Disclaimer: Mash-up. I merged my favorite book as a kid with my favorite book as an adult. The basic story is from Elizabeth Cadell's "The Lark Shall Sing," (also known as "The Singing Heart") while the characters and setting are from Charlaine Harris' Southern Vampire Mysteries.
AN: There are many changes to original as the Cadell book is set in 1950s England and did not include potty mouth, white trash, Hollywood, VWs, cell phones, etc.
Chapter Seven: Pam
Amelia Stackhouse stood by the north-facing entrance of the I-49 rest area just south of Natchitoches. She was scoping for a ride. Yes. It had come to this.
Everything had been going along perfectly. Until it got royally fucked up.
Ame had managed to get herself expelled by giving herself a Do-It-Yourself nipple piercing (she had wanted one anyway). She hadn't just left it at that, she'd actually gone and flashed her tits at Miss Octavia Fant—or MOF— when the old witch (not in a good way) called Ame into her office to let her have it for her loud cussing. That whole getting expelled thing was way fucking easier than she thought it was going to be. She had a whole list of Goodbye Fuckoffs to gift MOF with. Stands as testament to the woman's total and complete lack of imagination that something as mild as a baby barbell on her boob was all it took.
Ame was trying to take care of Felicia too, since it wouldn't be the same for Fel with Ame gone. And Felicia was nearly as tired of MOF's bullshit as Ame was. So they were considering just going to MOF's office, Ame was going to tell the old snatch that she wanted to talk to her and apologize about screaming obscenities, and then once MOF let them in the office, Ame and Fel were going to just start making out and dry-humping on the leather couch. A part of her was slightly sorry they didn't do it anyway. It would have been an all-round high-impact exercise.
Not only was Ame absofucking positive it would have gotten them both expelled, she was also absofucking certain it would have secured their reputations beyond the campus boundary. It would have established them far and wide throughout New Orleans. Ame was also 90% certain MOF would have responded by getting an exorcist in there to ward away their demons. Now, most people might see that as a bad thing, but Ame was actually itching to meet a demonologist. She had a ton of questions. Then, of course, there was the fact that Fel was just hot as hell and Ame wouldn't mind a little goodbye nookie.
That was Part 1: Operation Expel. Then came Part 2: Operation Escape.
Clancy, the Carmichaels' alcoholic chauffeur, had agreed to take the long way around Louisiana to make sure Amelia got home to Bon Temps. Since the Carmichaels' estate is located in the Baton Rouge suburbs, it was a bit much for a one-day round trip but they got an early start and they told Clancy that if he didn't feel up to making the trek back down, Felicia and he could always just crash at the Stackhouse Farm. Felicia's parents weren't even around that weekend. It would just be a matter of making up some bullshit to feed "Nazi" MacDougal.
The problem was that Clancy—that effing asshole—decided to have a few drinks when they stopped outside Alexandria for dinner. Unlike every other drunken Irish man—who perform tasks better when inebriated, Amelia was absofucking positive she had read a study somewhere—Clancy starts weaving on I-49, hitting the rumble strips a dozen fucking times. He even slurred his effing words. What self-respecting Irish drunk slurs?
Then it happened. Amelia knew it was going to happen. Then it did. The sirens. The red flashing lights.
Fuck. Me.
The only saving grace was that Fucktard Clancy managed to keep going —at her and Felicia's urging—until the Natchitoches rest area. So, there they were: Ame and Fel in the back of the BMW 750Li while a drunken Clancy engages in a slow speed cop chase on I-49 for a good 20 minutes. Ame crouched low in the seat so the cops wouldn't know that there were two girls in the back seat. Finally, Fel gave Clancy the okay to pull off in the Natchitoches rest area, which he did. After a quick hug and kiss goodbye to Fel, with her bag in hand, Amelia proceeded to roll out of the car and crawl away, hidden from police view by rows of parked cars.
That had been nearly 40 minutes ago. From her vantage point she could still see the BMW so she knew they hadn't left yet. She wasn't sure what the cops would do. Have Nazi MacDougal come to get Felicia? Put Clancy in the slammer? Amelia had to just shake it off. She was sorry her friend took a hit, but really it wasn't a total loss. One of the cops seemed cute—at least from what she could tell from the rear windshield—Felicia probably had them eating out of her hand by now.
Not wanting to be too fucking obvious, Amelia thought using her thumb along the interstate was a sure-fire way to get the cops back on her. As she was still wearing her pleated schoolgirl uniform and carrying a duffel bag, her look practically screamed "emo runaway"! She was even regretting the blue-black hair, which definitely screamed "PAIN. AGONY. NOTICE ME." Yeah, she was wishing she blended in. She missed her blonde hair right then.
Anyway, she and Felicia had done this before. Since they technically weren't old enough to drive—although God knows they both could—sometimes they made new friends just to help them get from Point A to Point B. Despite the seemingly risky nature of the transportation technique, they'd actually had good experiences. Amelia attributed it to her strong witch's intuitive sense. She just knew who would be trouble and who would not. She also carried mace everywhere and knew she could drive—even a standard—if she needed to.
So –
So far she had not yet approached anyone. She had, however, dismissed a good five potentials. This long-haired Native American guy just looked uber creepy, like he was on a mission to? To do what? Like bring death to people. he made her shiver. She couldn't explain it any more than that.
Then there was this nasty couple that were obviously drug addicts. They looked snivelly, like rats. She palmed her silver necklace when they passed, almost as if to ward them away.
Then there were these two ginormous twin toothless foreigners. They actually were never potentials. Amelia just couldn't stop staring at them. It's the 21st century. Who walks around with no teeth? Much less with an equally toothless identical twin?
Then there was this big round bald man with black beady little eyes who was traveling with this young girl dressed in a pink tutu and green and white striped tights. She called him 'uncle' and despite appearances, Amelia felt they would have been okay. She could see the natural affection between the two and they just seemed 'safe'. Relatively speaking, of course.
Looking at the rest area door she saw a gorgeous blond woman wearing red Prada and Jimmy Choos emerge holding a Slurpee cup. Wearing a red hairband and matching red DKNY sunglasses, she seemed to be heading towards a silver Mercedes, which was parked by itself in a handicap space. Actually it was angled diagonally across two handicap spaces.
Pausing a few yards from Amelia, the woman turned back and looked over at the girl.
"Well?"
"Can I get a ride?"
The woman pressed her lips together and pondered the request. Finally, she expressed what was on her mind.
"And what's in it for me?"
"I'll keep you company," Ame replied. "I'm pretty good at telling stories."
"More."
"I can drive if you get tired."
The woman pulled off her sunglasses and squinted at Amelia.
"Hmm….how old are you?"
"Thirteen."
"More."
"I'm a witch. If you need any spells cast, I could do that for you."
Suddenly the blond woman smiled and looked radiant. Like Alice in Wonderland Amelia thought. Realizing how ridiculous that was, Amelia fought the urge to giggle.
"Oh, now THAT sounds interesting. Where are you headed?"
"Bon Temps. It's 40 minutes outside of Shreveport. But really anywhere near Shreveport would be great. I can figure something out for the final stretch. There's a bus I can take from Shreveport."
"Hmm. One more thing and we have a deal."
Amelia kept quiet but looked at the woman expectantly. What the fuck could she possibly want? Vague warnings about "predatory Lesbians" rose to the surface of her mind, but then she just shoved them way back into the far recesses—along with all the other drivel she'd ever heard from Miss Octavia Fant. Amelia waited expectantly.
"I want your clothes."
"You what?"
"I want your clothes. Sure, I could shop around for the schoolgirl look, but I prefer to go for authenticity. We seem seem to be right around the same size."
The blonde woman had a good four inches on Amelia. And definitely more contours. The girl's pleated schoolgirl skirt would fall just under the woman's ass crack. Not to mention the fact that Amelia hadn't quite 'blossomed' yet, so the blouse would be pretty snug on the woman. Somehow, Amelia didn't think either of these things would faze her new acquaintance. The woman was looking at her waiting. Suddenly it occurred to Amelia that maybe the woman expected her to be stripping right then and there?
"WHAT? Now?" Amelia balked.
"No, no," the woman smiled then. She was so…so…what? 'Ferocious' seemed like a good wouldn't have been surprised to see fangs appear in the woman's mouth. "We can go somewhere and you can change into something else," the woman finished.
Hmmm. While her duffel was mostly filled with books—some school and some craft, just in case she needed them—Amelia did pack her makeup and a change of clothes. But the woman didn't know that. Amelia might be able to use this to negotiate herself a full ride to Bon Temps.
"Okay. One thing, though. I don't have a change of clothes. I do have clothes at the house in Bon Temps. If you drop me off over there, I can give you this outfit. Hell, there might be more stuff in my closet you could have." With this, Amelia held her breath. She really really wanted this to work out.
"Fine. I'm going to Shreveport anyway. Get in. How about I drive for now and you can take over later?"
"Sure. That's fine." Amelia tried to sound matter-of-fact, but was this woman really going to let her drive her $100,000 Mercedes? What. The. Fuck.
Amelia and the woman had just settled into the car, snapping seat belts into place, when the woman's cell phone rang. Not pausing, the woman proceeded to pull out of the parking spot with the phone balanced on her shoulder.
"Pam Ravenscroft."
Try as she might, Amelia couldn't hear the other part of the conversation, so she just sat back in the passenger seat and watched the view as the Louisiana countryside once more flew past. She giggled. 'Pam' drove much faster than Clancy. She glanced over at the speedometer and her eyes widened when she saw they were going over 90 mph. As long as they didn't get pulled over by the cops, she would be home really really soon. Even if they did get pulled over, Amelia had faith in her newfound friend that it wouldn't really delay them too much.
Suddenly 'Pam' was talking.
"—Eric, really, stop being such a pussy. You took a gamble and the show got picked up. You know the production values of these shows. So what? You live in Louisiana six months out of the year. You'll find some local cheerleader and it'll be fine. I'm on my way back from visiting my 'friend' in Alexandria. Don't be such a snob. Most actors would kill for a chance at a series. Regular paycheck. No scrambling. The other six months you can do that real acting shit you like to do with the other IKEA know, that pseudo-intellectual military crap that's really just an excuse to fuel wet dreams with a gratuitous overkill of shower scenes."
'Pam' paused here, while 'Eric' must have given her a piece of his mind.
"You know something? You used to be more down to earth. I don't know what's gotten into you and frankly you're trying my patience. Call me back when you've grown a pair." With that parting line, 'Pam' snapped shut her cell and placed it in the side console. She glanced at her travel companion. "So, what is your name?"
"Amelia. Amelia Stackhouse."
"Well, Amelia, I am Pam Ravenscroft. How exactly did you find yourself stranded at a rest stop outside of Natchitoches?"
"I was in a car with my friend and her driver and the driver got drunk when we stopped for a bite, so we got pulled over in the rest area. I need to be somewhere, so I couldn't stay with them."
"Uh-huh. Aren't you a bit young for urgent business meetings?"
"Well, it's not business related. It's family related."
"Uh-huh. And?"
"Well, it's complicated," Amelia squinted her face. She remained silent.
Pam, in the meantime, was not having it. "Listen Amelia, you promised me stories and I will hold you to our agreement. If you do not comply, I will pull over and you will get out of this car. Am I clear?"
Amelia looked over at Pam with widened eyes and suddenly wondered if her psycho-meter was off. She nodded.
"Good. So spill. At the rate I'm driving, we'll be in Shreveport in less than an hour."
So Amelia proceeded to tell Pam about Sookie's email, the house, her brothers and sisters, her collection of witchcraft books, Hoyt's dog, Hunter's tree house, the fact that she hates boarding school, Bill-the-Douchebag, Aunt Linda's growing family, JB's unrequited love for Tara, the tenants who got hauled off by the Feds. Everything. To her credit, Pam Ravenscroft was an excellent listener, with a precision for details that could only be the result of years spent as a Hollywood manager, which is exactly what Pam was.
"Okay. Amelia, I get it. But when your parents died, where'd the money go? You had money to keep the house and then—what? poof!—it was gone?"
"Yeah, I'm not 100% clear on that. I think—think—we were living off Daddy's money—life insurance—until last year. Some money was in a trust and the way it was set up or something, we lost out on a good chunk of it. Aunt Linda got some of it, but I don't think even she got that much. But she felt guilty about the whole thing—or maybe Sookie just bullied her—and so she took Hoyt and Hunter. But now she's got Hadley and I'd bet money that she gets Felipe to propose in the next six months."
Pam let that sink in and considered her next words. "Here's a question for you: What are you going to propose to Sookie as an alternative?"
Amelia's eyes widened. She gaped at Pam. That was a good fucking question. "I –I don't know. I've been so focused on just getting home today, I haven't really given much thought to that."
"Well, you're going to have to think about that. Now, you're bright, but you're still only—what did you say? Thirteen?"
Amelia nodded. "Yeah."
"Even if you, Hoyt and Hunter want to stay in Bon Temps, you're going to need an adult living with you. Did you try calling your older siblings? What—Jason and Tara?"
"I—uh—kind of destroyed my cell phone earlier today. I didn't have a number for Jase anyway—he was overseas somewhere—and I don't have Tara's number memorized. I know Hoyt's number. He would have Tara's number."
"Would you like to borrow my phone to try to reach Hoyt?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
"Of course," Pam nodded.
Amelia called Hoyt but it went straight to voicemail. Odd. Usually he has pretty good coverage in San Antonio, though it was no thanks to those bloodsuckers, ATT. "Hey, Hoyt, I got an email from Sookie this morning and, well, she's talking about selling the house. I'd really like to talk to Tara about this, but I broke my phone and I don't have Tara's number anymore. When you get this, could you please give me a call on this number? It's not my phone, but I'm with a friend and it's her phone. Okay, talk later." With that, Amelia snapped the phone shut and sat back in quiet contemplation.
Pam looked at Amelia out of the corner of her eye. Quirking a brow, she half-smiled to herself. She felt like she was looking in mirror. Not, of course, the disgusting blue-black Cleopatra hair. But what was underneath.
This girl is just like me, 20 years ago.
Notwithstanding his current bout with 'pussyness', Eric Northman was her best friend.
And he was so going to love hearing this story. Of course, she'd have to wait until the girl was no longer seated next to her. That would just be rude. Well, they were closing in on the Shreveport exit, so it wouldn't be much longer now.
AN: That Pam. Just to give you an idea of the changes wrought to make this story work, in the Cadell original 'Pam' was an Italian Fuller Brush salesman named Pietro. Modesty aside, how's that for the most fuckawesome character reinterpretation in FanFiction history?
AN: Please read and provide feedback. All ideas go into the vault. Feel free to ask questions about the Cadell book, too! I know some folks actually tracked it down and read it...
