Just Keep Smilin'

Anew Every Morning, Part 1

EPISODE ONE: Anew Every Morning

Part 1: The Nightmare Begins

Luke swung open the rusted doors to a seedy bar in inner-city Atlanta. It was dusk, and the establishment only looked more questionable in the evening light. The air was warm and humid, typical weather for mid-July Georgia. Brown eyes scanned the venue, looking for his best, or only friend. They had planned to drink away their sorrows tonight, given the fact that they were on verge of losing everything after they had been forced to close their mismanaged business the week before.

Surely enough, Nick was there, sitting next to a gorgeous brunette and making a pathetic attempt to impress her. She didn't seem too intrigued. The petite woman was dressed to the nines with a spiffy new blouse and black stilettos, while toting a designer purse. She was definitely out of place here. Or, at least she gave off that impression when compared to the bar's usual patrons.

Luke approached the two, interrupting Nick's sad excuse of a conversation.

| Hey, man. |

| Hello, miss. |

| He's an asshole. |

| ... |

"Forgive him, he's just a... jerk." Luke prided himself on refraining from profanity around women. Most of the time, at least. He chuckled, leaning over and placing a hand on Nick's shoulder. The other man looked up at him, irritated. The lady giggled, amused by their interaction.

"Hey, Mr. Casanova, give a guy a chance," Nick spat, rolling his eyes. Luke could make out the alcohol on his breath, if the empty mug within reach wasn't enough of an indicator that he was already rather buzzed.

"I figure she's already given you far too many chances to impress her. C'mon, leave her alone. Clearly, she ain't buyin' it anytime soon," he teased. The belle had already risen from her seat, freeing up the space for Luke.

Nick pouted. "Asshole." When he noticed the woman making her way towards the exit, he called out after her, "Hey! At least gimme yer name!"

She looked back at the two dorks with a sympathetic smile, shaking her head. "It's Carley. Carley Vigil, bless both of your hearts."

The quintessential southern dismissal. Her accent was distinctly not-southern, but she'd done her best to adapt to the lingo of the South, no question. Most Yankees would mistake that for a genuine wish of good luck, but every respectable southern belle knew just how to frame her language so as to always maintain a prim and proper image.

Of course, it was no secret to southern men that "bless your heart" actually meant something along the lines of "I think you're a complete and utter idiot," depending on the context.

"Hey, Nick, I'm sorry I blew your chances with her..." The sarcasm in Nick's tone couldn't be any more obvious.

| Sorry, man. |

| Like you had any. |

| Fuck off. |

| ... |

Luke laughed at his friend's attitude. "Like you ever had any," he joked. "A girl like that's probably way out of your league. She might be in mine, though-"

"-Just gimme another beer, asshole. And you're payin'. You know I don't got a damn cent left after you convinced me to blow our life savings with you on whatever that bullshit was," Nick grumbled.