Santana's hands gripped the leather wheel of her grandfathers old mustang.
"ha ha, you're right John this summers hits have be...". Santana snapped off the radio with a frustrated sigh and inclined further into the car seat. The night was becoming more intense as the drive continued, with little left to see, Santana stared forward. She appreciated any light she could get. At that moment, she wished she'd appreciated a lot of other things.
Like a warm bed!
Or a freshly baked, homemade meal!
Only shortly after she became restless, her hands were fidgeting and the silence was insufferable. She searched in the glove compartment keeping a wary eye on the road. Pulling out a scratched CD and shoving it into the player. The radio made a crackling noise and the music began.
"oh you have to be shitting me!"
Maybellene, why can't you be true?
Oh Maybellene, why can't you be true?
You done started doin' the things you used to do...
XxXxXxXxX
The ancient tracks, skipped, crackled, rewound. All of which added to the torture of the car 'ride'.
Why did the universe have to hate her?
As if the gods had spoken, under a tired gaze Santana spotted a gas station and slowly pulled towards it. She struggled out of the car and slammed the door, earning an alarmed glare from the guy behind the counter.
"that woke the bastard up!" She snarled, grouchy from the long trip.
She walked inside and headed straight for the booze, grabbing a bottle of whiskey. She scavenged around for a few more minutes getting way too much junk food. And a bottle of water. What? she didn't wanna look like a complete ass!
Santana approached, what looked to be a young teenager (she gathered from all the acne) behind the counter. She placed down her items and looked elsewhere avoiding the, not-so-subtle leering from the guy.
"..uhh hey"
"look stubles, i'm not interested and i am not some whore you can pick off the side of the road and ... look at..., so please if you'd kindly let me buy my shit and get out. and god forbid don't bag my stuff, I'd like to not spend the rest of my night scrubbing your prepubescent man grease off my Cheetos" Santana cut off with a growl.
She stared the boy down.
"i ..i was just going to tell you .. y ..your credit card d..declined" he stuttered under her gaze, which only grew more intense.
She huffed, her cheeks slightly heated from anger and embarrassment . Looking down at her items she snatched her card back, grabbed the Cheetos,the bottle of water and slammed down a crinkled 5 dollar bill. Turning on her heel and storming out. The boy said something, but it was incoherent as Santana mumbled and cursed in Spanish.
She was back on the road, and still mumbling under her breath. She wasn't quite sure but something tugged at her. like she had forgotten something!