Big Yellow Taxi
Chapter 1
** I got the idea for this story while I was listening to the Joni Mitchell song. It's going to take place in an AU with no ZA. It involves characters in it from my other story Under Your Spell. You can read this one without reading that one first, but that one is complete if you would like to read it.
I had to use a little creative license when it came to Rowan's background. If you read my other story you know she is from the Twin Oaks sustainable living commnity in Virginia, which is an actual place. And we all know Daryl is from Georgia. Having them live a 5 to 6 hour drive apart was not going to work at all, so for the purposes of this story everything else about her background will remain be the same, but her community is going to be located in Georgia.
As always I hope you enjoy the story and don't forget to leave me a review. **
Daryl tried rolling over and burying his face into the cushion of the filthy couch he was sleeping on. He heard his brother's heavy tread, practically shaking the whole trailer as the man crossed the room to approach him. The next thing Daryl felt was the flimsy blanket had he been sleeping under being unceremoniously yanked away from his body as Merle pelted him in the head with an empty beer can. A swallow of stale beer was left in the can and Daryl wrinkled up his nose at the foul smell of the liquid as it splashed the couch cushions he was lying on.
"Get your fuckin' ass up!," Merle hissed at him. Then for good measure the man lifted his leg and brought his biker boot down on top of Daryl's ass. Not really kicking him but just stomping down on him a few times to make sure Daryl got the hint. Merle had shit to do today and sitting around some whore's dumpy little trailer and waiting until his brother felt like waking up was not on the agenda. Also he wanted to get the hell out of dodge before the whore in question got out of the shower.
Daryl swung his arm around blindly, hoping to connect with some part of his brother's body. But Merle was already well out of smacking range. Sighing an almost silent huff of resgination, Daryl sat up and started stuffing his feet into his boots. He watched Merle as the man quietly poked through the small decorative metal canisters the woman he had slept with kept on top of her fridge. As if it wasn't bad enough that Merle had probably given that woman the clap, now he was going to steal from her as well. Daryl knew that meant she had been whatever Merle classified as a lousy lay. His brother didn't rob women he intended to try and sleep with again.
"Hell yes," Merle announced, waving a substantial looking wad of money around for Daryl to see before he stuffed the cash into his pocket. The sound of the running shower stopped. Merle cocked his head to the side for a moment, then he started gesturing to Daryl that it was time to leave. The two men hurried outside the trailer and down the rickety wooden steps. Once Merle saw there was only one bike parked outside, he started cussing under his breath.
"Told ya not to leave yer bike," Daryl reminded the man. Merle never listened. Not when he was sober. And definitely not when he was drunk. Daryl glanced nervously behind him, in the direction of the trailer they had just stepped out of. "Come'on," he said. Walking over, he swung his leg over and climbed onto his bike. Then he sat there waiting for Merle to climb on behind him.
"I ain't ridin' bitch on my own damn bike Merle," Daryl said, cutting off any discussion or argument before the words could even get out of his brother's mouth. Merle grumbled a few swear words under his breath. But in the end he climbed onto the bike behind his brother, just like Daryl knew he would. As far as Daryl was concerned, if Merle didn't like riding bitch then he should stop getting piss face drunk and leaving his bike behind.
Daryl tore out of the driveway, grateful that he remembered where they were and how they got there despite the large quantity of whiskey he had consumed the night before. The bar was only about ten minutes away, and Daryl guessed the woman his brother had picked up the night before probably frequented the place since she lived so close. That meant Daryl was going to have to put the place down on his mental check list of places they probably couldn't ever go back to.
Merle climbed off Daryl's bike and pulled the stolen money from the pocket of his jeans. He had not taken the time to count it back in that woman's trailer, so he counted to himself as he thumbed through the wad.
"Over three hundred bucks," he announced, looking rather pleased with himself, "that fuckin' butterface didn't look like she had three hundred fucking bucks did she?" Daryl didn't figure the question meritted a response. And the woman's face hadn't been that bad. Her teeth were another story. Watching his brother kiss that woman's mouth had turned Daryl's stomach. And getting out of the dim bar lighting and under the brighter lights inside her trailer had not improved her appearance.
The sun was shining bright in the sky. It was warm out, but not overwhelmingly hot. Not yet anway. Daryl was thinking he might like to go home. Take a quick shower to wash the wet dog stink of that woman's couch off himself. Then he might head out to the lake and do some fishing. Maybe even do a little rabbit hunting on the way back depending on how many fish he caught.
But Merle was digging through the saddlebags on the side of his bike. As soon as Daryl saw him whip out his cell phone he knew his simple plans for the day were about to get thrown out the window. He muttered to himself that he should have known better. Merle had a large wad of cash in his pocket. So of course he was going to want to buy drugs. A lot of drugs. Then Daryl was going to have to spend the next few days making sure Merle sold the drugs instead of doing them all himself.
A few phone calls later and Daryl was swinging his leg over his bike again. He fired up the engine and followed Merle out of the parking lot. As they drove their surroundings changed. Trash littering the front yards of trailer lots changed into maincured lawns in front of cute little houses with matching mailboxes out front. It wasn't until they pulled up into the small parking lot that Daryl recognized where they were, the Chester Street farmer's market.
"Watch my bike," Merle ordered as he swung himself off the bike and headed towards the bustle of activity inside the large market. Daryl smiled a little to himself. This was not the type of place where someone was going to tamper with either of their bikes. The blonde mom hauling her children from her minivan looked more concerned that Daryl or his brother might tamper with her.
Given their current location, Daryl let some of his tension go. The man Merle met here only sold him weed. And unlike harder drugs, Merle wouldn't be able to smoke up an entire bag of the stuff in one night. So that meant they might actually have some money left when he got done. Maybe they could pay to have their power turned back on. They still had water, but Daryl was sick of taking ice cold showers.
He had been to this market a few times. But Daryl had always waited in the parking lot before. Crowded places full of uppity rich old ladies and weird hippies weren't really his thing. But today his stomach was grumbling, reminding him he hadn't had anything to eat for breakfast. And the night before he had drunk his dinner. In the row of vendors he could see, there was a small cart selling those big soft pretzels with the chunky salt on top. The smell of good coffee was drifting out from somewhere inside and Daryl was sure he could find whoever was selling it if he followed his nose.
Daryl pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open to see what was left inside after the previous night's excursions. He still had a ten left. And a few loose ones. He figured that was enough to at least buy him some coffee and a pretzel. He could hit up Merle's theiving ass later when he needed to gas up his bike. Daryl started off in the direction he had seen the minivan lady go, dragging her children along behind her. He knew where the pretzel cart was, so he headed there first.
As he walked, Daryl took in his surroundings. He hadn't had any idea how many different types of items were being sold in this market. Lots of people were selling fresh produce, but there were also baked goods and handmade jewelry. Signs for a local hog farm caught his eye. They were selling what looked to be some very high quality meats and Daryl suddenly found himself wishing he had more than thirteen bucks to his name. Nice thick pork chops cooked up on the grill sounded a lot better than a hot pretzel and coffee.
"Free sample?," the man selling the pork offered once he saw Daryl's eyes were focused on the meat he had cooking on the small grill off to the side of the booth. Daryl shrugged and stepped forward. The man pulled a chunk of sausage off the grill and wrapped it up in a small piece of butcher paper and few napkins, warning Daryl that the meat was hot and letting him know they were having a sale on their fresh ground pork sausage links.
Daryl blew on the small chunk of meat and headed towards the pretzel cart. Once he handed over two dollar bills he was presented with a large pretzel that was also going to need to cool off a little before he bit into it. He held the food in one hand, shading his eyes with the other as he tried to figure out where the smell of coffee was coming from. Without warning, the food was suddenly snatched from his grasp. Daryl spun, looking to pummel the food theif. The offender was a large tan colored puppy with a black nose. The animal was gobbling down the food as fast as possible, even eating the bit of paper that the sausage had been wrapped up in.
"I'm so sorry." The words came with a hand placed lightly on the bare skin of Daryl's upper arm. He almost jerked away from the contact until he realized the person touching him was an attractive young woman that was looking so embarrassed she almost seemed ready to cry. "Oh Lily," the woman sighed, grabbing what was left of the leash that had been hooked to the naughty puppy's collar. She wrapped the broken end of the leash around her hand a few times to keep the puppy from running off again.
"I'm so sorry," she repeated, touching Daryl's arm again and giving him an apologetic smile, "Let me buy you another pretzel." Since the woman was standing so close to him, Daryl took the time to look her over. She was tall for a girl, only about and inch or two shorter than him. But her slender build made her appear smaller. Her hair was long and dark, the front braided back to keep it from falling into her face. A few more braids hung down from the underside of her hair and Daryl smiled when he noticed she had turkey feathers twined into them. He had always liked the look of the feathers from that particular bird. They were more colorful than one would imagine they might be, Back at the crappy trailer he shared with hsi brother, he had a long stand of them hanging aross the window in his room.
The woman had a long patterned dress on, the sort that tied around her neck and left most of her back bare. Her shoulders and the bridge of her nose were pink from the sun. While there were no other visible markings on her body, the hand that was still resting on Daryl's arm was covered in an intricate pattern of tattoos. Daryl had a trained eye and he took notice of all these small details, but the woman's most obvious feature were the freckles that were scattered over her entire body, covering every inch of visible skin.
"Don't worry about it Rowan," the man behind the pretzel cart told the woman that was touching Daryl, "It's on me." The young man fished another pretzel with a long pair of silver tongs and stuffed it into a paper wrapper before handing the treat over to Daryl. The woman removed her hand from Daryl's arm and gave the man behind the pretzel cart a big friendly smile. Her teeth were small and white, but not perfectly even. The eyetooth in the corner stuck out a little, which somehow added to her appearance instead of taking away from it. The man behind the cart must have shared Daryl's opinion of her smile because he smiled back, looking at the woman in a way that made it obvious he would be happy to give away all the pretzels he was selling if it would buy him some alone time with her. Daryl was torn between being irritated with the man for interrupting the conversation he was hoping to have with this strange woman and being grateful that he had somehow been able to learn what her name was without having to ask. Rowan. If he remembered right it was the name of a type of tree.
She thanked the pretzel man. Then as quickly as she had appeared, the woman was gone. Pulling her puppy along with her, she disappeared into the crowded market. Daryl watched her go, wishing he had been able to think of some way to strike up a conversation with her. He had never been quick on his feet when it came to women. Especially women as pretty as that one had been. Daryl thought about chasing after her, but quickly changed his mind and went off in search of the coffee he had been looking for in the first place. A girl that sweet probably wouldn't be interested in a dirty biker like him anyway.
