She worked at Eat and danced all day; when there were customers and when there weren't, when dad was drunk and when he was angry, when she was happy and when she was sad. Dancing was everything to her: her dreams, her life, and now - her heaven. She danced till the lino on the restaurant floor wore out and the soles of her shoes split apart and the records cracked in the jukebox. When the restaurant was empty she made it her laboratory of dance where she performed experiments of rhythm and movement. It was life, a dancing life of dreams. She dreamed of love, danger, excitement!
It was beside the dusty highway that it all began one morning so long ago.
From somewhere Shera got a message from the future...
-Everything I touch turns to gold-
-Everything I touch turns to gooold-
-And when I kiss your lips-
-Your lovin' fingertipz-
-Everything I touch turns to gold-
-How does it feel-
-How does it feel?-
It came to her at the exact moment the jukebox skipped and blended Everything I Touch Turns To Gold with Blue Monday - which was a lot of the time Shera's favourite piece of pop music by her favourite group. New Order emerged from the ashes of Joy Division, playing the music that was the missing link between Kraftwerk and everything electronically great that came afterwards. They overcame the loss of their lead singer by in a way replacing him with space and time, and so she overcame the loss of her life by replacing it with the same thing... the time and space you find beautifully between electronic beeps. As she virtually heard the jukebox sing its happy song of loss it was as if the new lead singer was Shera Stargazer, and for private reasons there is something fabulous and irresistable about that. To see and hear the ghost of Joy Division shimmer through the illusion of Final Fantasy VII into entertainment immortality was a moment that made her realise that pop music, or call it what you will, creates some of the most magical moments in life. And those moments can be so magical all you want to do sometimes is dance to them - hold them in place. Everything has to end, even the most fortuitous technogical screwup in the world...
-Clap clap clap clap clap!-
She spun around from her lonely dance with the jukebox to face the dark sarcastic clapper, leering at her from behind his carapace of red pleather. He clapped with a metal claw and a human hand, his delicate feminine features belying a man who had a fucking metal claw where he should have had a hand.
"How long have you been there?"
"Long enough to see that you've got a good act," he growled, his voice barely a whisper.
"Well I bet you came in here for something besides the show." She put the pool cues away beside the jukebox and went back behind the counter to stand on the duckboard and peer out over the restaurant. Every now and again an order would come whistling over and she'd throw herself into the cupboard dug out until it had passed. At nights she passed a candle flame over the seams of her clothing and watched the lice pop.
"Why yes, I came here for..." he began to reach into his pants with his hydraulic claw as a car pulled up outside. He stopped for a second and sat down at the counter, nesting his fingers together in front of his face. "Like I said, I came in here for a piece of Huge Pie and a cup of COFFEE."
A minute later he was sipping black COFFEE and staring straight ahead with dark, twinkling eyes.
"You're not from around here," she said, studying him.
He took a long draft of oily COFFEE. "Why do you ask?"
Before she could answer the bell at the door jangled and a new character entered, cheery and windswept and blond and bestubbled and smoking. He swept the goggles off his face and swayed on his feet, taking in the restaurant before he spoke.
"Afternoon fair lady, kind sir! Any idea where Costa Del Sol went?"
Shera found herself charmed.
"It went thataway, partner!" she said, pointing her finger like it was a gun. "P-tchew!" A click of her thumb and she was mowing down all the people that mocked her dancing, bullets bursting through their pelvises and faces and shoulders and tearing great big holes in their ragdoll bodies. "P-tchew! P-tchew! P-tchew! P-tchewp-tchewp-tchewp-tchewp-tchew!"
"Um..." quieter this time. "Straight down this here road piece?"
"What? Oh yeah, whatever," she was about to be silent when inspiration struck her. "For a piece!" she said, triumphantly. "Just past Corel!"
The man laughed at this and folded his arms on the counter, leaning forward across them.
"I have five mighty hungers and pangs with me on this here trip," he confessed, his gaze lingering. "Appetites you can't imagine."
"Ew," she stepped back. "Well I'll sell you anything in the place, mister."
The blond man looked across the shelves behind her. Meanwhile the dark, silent man was fidgeting in his seat, his metal fingers toying with his cup. She could hear him muttering under his breath.
"Pick me! Pick me!"
"I'll settle for ten Shinra bars!" the blond said, and bit down on his cigarette as he drew through his teeth, watching Shera collect up each piece of confectionary. Across from him the stranger put the cup between his trembling lips and drained the last drops, shuddering.
Za Paper bag rustled as Shera handed it to him.
"That'll be a hundred gil."
The man took out his wallet and made a show of opening it in front of her.
"Can you cash a thousand?"
Shera looked up. The other man settled his cup back on the counter a little too abruptly.
"I've never even seen one," she said, rapt.
The blond grinned and gave a look of surprise as he leafed through the notes.
"A five hundred?"
Shera took a step back and shook her head.
The blond shrugged. "I'll have a thousand Shinra bars then, I guess," he leant over in his chair, putting the wallet back before he went about rummaging through his pockets, a look of intense concentration on his face. Suddenly!
"Well licky here!" A shopsoiled note held out at the end of trembling fingers. "Here's a single!"
He stood up and pushed himself away from the counter.
"Goodbye, fair Cetra. I must hasten on to the land of rape and honey!"
"Wait a minute," the stranger said, grabbing the blond's shoulder as he turned to leave. The claw went searching back into his pants again. There was a commotion outside, a police car pulled up and the stranger froze.
"Is he here for you, friend?" the blond asked, smiling. The stranger said nothing, letting his hand fall from the other man's shoulder and settling back into his seat.
"That's Tseng! He's always hanging out there to look out for materia thieves!" Shera said.
The blond smiled again and left, waving as he went through the door. Shera watched him climb onto his motorbike, pull his goggles down over his eyes and roar away. Inside the restaurant the jukebox clicked on in the corner and music filled the room. Before she knew what she was doing Shera was dancing over to the stove and refilling the stranger's COFFEE mug. He looked up, watching her.
"You're really hooked on this dancing stuff, aren't you?" She smiled and said nothing. "Hey, ever thought of being a professional?"
The COFFEE pot hissed as she put it back on the stove and was quiet.
"I... I guess I'd give just about anything in the world to be one."
For the first time she saw the stranger smile. He cocked his head and looked away.
"I can help you," he said, disinterested.
"You can help me?"
"Sure!" he leaned forward. "Look, my sister's the number one attraction in the Costa Del Sol, in a groovy beach nightclub! Let me show you," he reached under his cape into his back pocket and brought out a small photograph, holding it out at the end of his talons. Shera was surprised they were cold to the touch. "There she is - my sister, Tifa Lockheart."
"This is your sister?" Shera asked, studying the girl in the picture.
"Yesssss."
"Come on," she said, skeptical. "You're a bigger porov nut than he was."
"Oh no I'm not," he produced another picture of the same girl, same long hair, same outfit, everything. "Same girl!" he said, matter of factly, leaning back in his seat. He glanced out of the windows. "Listen, I'm on my way to the Costa 'D' right now. Why don't you come with me and I'll bet my sister can make you into a star," he clicked his metallic fingers, "just like that. And I'll do all that for you in exchange for a little companionship." She looked at him oddly. "Being my relief driver. I want to drive straight through!"
Shera stood for a minute, taking everything in.
"Oh boy, have you got a line a mile long."
"No, I'm serious!"
"I'm sure you are," she sighed. "I may have stars in my eyes, but I don't believe everything I hear."
Suddenly there was a shout from the back room behind the restaurant. A gruff voice, raspy and slurred.
"'era! Come in here!"
Shera lingered for a moment at the counter.
"Excuse me," she said, finally, before going through the door into the kitchens. Beside the encrusted, browning fryers was her father, slumped on a stool and nursing a bottle of greens beer, his face shiny with grease and oil. One dark hand pawed at the yellowing apron that was plastered to his shirt.
"Girl I told you an hour ago," he paused, straining for breath, "to et them dirty pots and pans washed." He took another swig from his bottle.
"Daddy, I've got a customer out front."
"Urrgh," he made a low, gutteral moan and pulled himself up by one of the stoves, staggering onto his feet and barging past her, "you get them dirty dishes, I'll take care of the front."
"No, please," she spoke quickly, grabbing him by one shoulder and suddenly letting go as he turned around to face her.
"What did you say?"
"Mister Rufus hired me to take care of the front, and you to take care of the kitchen. Do you want to get us fired again?"
Her father's face twisted in rage, stained teeth showing through his cracked lips. His rasping voice became louder and more harsh with rage.
"Don't you get smart with me!"
"I'm not getting smart! It's just that you've been drinking. You're going out there and making a fool of yourself anyway."
Her father looked at her for a moment, uncomprehending.
"So that's what bothers you. I've been drinkin'. I slopped up a few stinkin' beers I ain't good enough to be your father no more, uh?" he became more agitated.
"Daddy, please!" Shera asked, pleading.
"What'ya mean, 'daddy please'?" he mocked. "You afraid I'm going to hit on some of your lousy studs out there, is that it?"
"That's enough!"
"You no good tramp, you're just like your mother! She liked boys doing that too!"
Shera straightened up. She spoke slowly. "You're right, I am like her and I'm glad. At least she had enough guts to get away from you!" Her father struck her across her face and sent her sprawling into the fryers. When she emerged at the front of the restaurant a minute later she was holding one hand to her cheek and choking back tears. The stranger looked up.
"What's wrong?"
Shera thought for a moment before she went over and spoke to him a low voice.
"Do you still want someone to go to Costa del Sol with?"
She swallowed and nodded.
"Help yourself to another cup of COFFEE while I get some things packed," and with that she disappeared into the back of the restaurant, appearing several minutes later with a small carrying case. It was then the stranger stood up and took her shoulders in his hands.
"Look, I guess I'd better make my confession to you. There is another reason I asked you along."
Shera looked over her shoulder.
"I know," she said, quickly, "we can fight about that later."
He laughed.
"No. Understand, I'll treat you any way you want to be treated - fair enough?"
"You were serious, weren't you?"
"Sure! Sure, I was serious. But there is one minor complication - I ain't got enough bread for gas all the way into Costa D. Will you be able to help in that department too?"
She went back to the till and rummaged through the notes there before following the stranger out to his convertible. As the door was closing she heard the voice of her father coming from the kitchens, harsh and insistent. The door swung to and there was only the sound of the wind. Down the road the police car's siren started up and the vehicle peeled out into the road in a cloud of dust, chasing a swerving car away into the distance. The stranger laughed and started the engine.
"Baby, I think you're gonna be good for me. The old luck is changing already."
The radio came to life and they were moving.
-Oh oh oh wheels-
-Oh wheels-
-Oh wheels of love are turning-
-Rolling with my baby-
-Cross the Costa del Sol line-
-Oh oh oh wheels-
-Oh wheels-
-Oh wheels of love are turning-
-Some day going to make him mine-
For once in her life there was music and yet she didn't dance. She couldn't tell how long ago Eat had disappeared into the hills behind them. There was nothing now but the late afternoon sun, the song on the radio, and the breeze that feels fresh before the storm.
-THE END! Of Chapter 1: Never Return Alive-
-Plz R&R-