Title: Fastest Girl In Town
Author: Sirena0944
Rating: T (for now…may change to M at a later date)
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Eliot/Parker
Summary: It's the ultimate road trip, Bonnie and Clyde style. He's mad at the world and she loves the freedom. AU
Prompt: Stuck driving for hours
Disclaimer: Miranda Lambert owns the title. Otherwise I just borrow the characters to play with.
Eliot long since decided he'd had more than enough bullshit to last him the rest of his life. He came home from his tour in the army, intent never to return after the hell he'd been through, barely escaping a desolate prison in the Middle East while wishing for death the entire time he was there, not to mention his general disdain for the United States Government. To add salt to the wound, he also caught his wife in bed with another man when he walked in the door of the cramped studio apartment that he paid for but never actually spent time in. They barely knew each other anyway before making the stupid (drunken, more than likely) decision to marry on the spur of the moment before he deported so long ago he didn't even remember anymore, so the abrupt ending of the joke of a relationship was hardly any loss. Hilarious actually since he never considered himself the settling down type at his age, nor did he have the time to dedicate to anyone. Eliot figured that he wasn't intended to have with anyone what his parents had. You win some, you lose some.
What the neighbors thought of the spectacle they made was the least of his concerns as he packed up a few meager belongings, her screaming after him, throwing whatever she could find toward him, as he tossed the bags in his convertible sports car, tires squealing against the pavement. The other man? He was lying unconscious in a heap in the apartment after Eliot's temper flared, dead maybe but he had no desire to find out, and he surprised himself to not care. Eliot had no destination in mind, he just needed out of there fast. Wandering the streets of Los Angeles aimlessly, he pulled in to a local bar. He needed a stiff drink, and something he didn't have to cook himself, in that order. A cheap motel could wait till later and if he found a willing girl for the night, that'd be nice too but not on his list of priorities at the moment.
The noise of the bar was welcoming. Sitting in a corner booth alone, Eliot didn't even try to flirt with the waitress as he ordered a bottle of beer with whiskey to chase it. He wasn't that desperate and she wasn't that pretty. Lost in his self-deprecation, staring into space, he jumped slightly as an attractive bouncy blonde who didn't even look legal sat down across from him, appearing out of nowhere. Glaring at her, he growled, "Something wrong with you."
He was hoping she'd be offended by the insult and leave him be. No such luck if that maniacal grin was anything to go by. He watched her suspiciously as he nursed his beer.
It was a blur to him how he ended up in a sleazy motel on the outskirts of town with said blonde. What was her name? Parker or something strange like that? Didn't matter when the room was spinning and his eyes were starting to roll back in his head. A woman having a tongue that talented should be a crime, and he wasn't convinced it was beginner's luck either, his hand shooting out quickly to brace the wall before his knees buckled on him. Maybe he was just drunk, but the Eliot Spencer he knew wasn't raised to be the reckless type. Maybe he should be embracing wild abandon.
Drifting into consciousness, squeezing his eyes shut with a hand over his face, he was fully aware of his head throbbing in pain as bright morning light peeked in through the curtains. His skin stung where she had clawed at his back and chest the previous night. Through the daze and misery, Eliot didn't remember much other than that she was the best roll in the hay he'd had since…even better than head cheerleader Hillary Travis back home in Oklahoma, under the bleachers after the football games in high school when everyone else was at the tailgate parties, among other places.
He didn't want to get up with every muscle in his body aching, but nature was protesting as he untangled his legs from Parker's sleeping form, the sheet twisted around her waist. Splashing cold water on his face, the realization started to surface that he was in a shitload of…well, shit. Eliot didn't have a home to back to or much money in his pocket to speak of. Staying in the motel was going to get expensive, especially in L.A. where everything was obscenely priced. The gravity chose not to hit until he glanced toward the TV that had been left on during the night. The sound was low but he wasn't listening to it. His ex-wife's apartment was taped off with law enforcement hoarded around. Half expecting to see his face splashed on the screen, he didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until the caption came on about a murder/suicide. Seriously? Stupid bitch…got what she deserved. Though he didn't see what was worth killing herself over since they weren't that close that she'd actually miss him any after him walking out. Hell, half the time he volunteered to do it himself since she drove him insane the rare times they were together. Either way, he wasn't staying for the party.
Choosing to momentarily ignore the hangover as best he could, Eliot found his boxers and jeans near the door, pulling them on quickly. His shirt was close by, underneath Parker's sundress and panties that he threw onto the bed beside her. Reaching over to smack her ass, "Get dressed. Gotta leave now!"
Really, he had no idea why he was intent on taking her with him. Where the fuck was he going anyway? That was the pressing issue more than anything. He could just as easily leave her without a word before she ever woke up, but chose not to. They could grab breakfast and coffee on the opposite side of town later, which is where he wanted to be as soon as possible. Hard part was going to be getting through the crazy Los Angeles traffic, which was bad at any hour. Even worse when added to his current condition. God help them.