Georgia On My Mind

(Pt 1)

It's summer.

Dallas' wild blonde hair fans out the window of the band's van, watching signs pass by in green and white blurs. Ricky tunes his guitar, his bandmate Lonnie going over his vocals, the soothing tones giving Dallas a sense of calm he hasn't had since…

He won't think of her. It's been two years.

Instead he focuses on the landscapes, the beautiful women in love vans with hair blowing in the breeze just like him. They smile and giggle at him, but their smiles don't meet his eyes. Getting bored, he ducks his head in and grabs the joint lying in the ashtray and lights up.

He'd been gone from Tulsa since…he doesn't quite remember. Days sloshed into nights, hours either drip like molasses or zip past him depending on the drug of choice that was on the menu that night. He does know they're getting closer; the dry climate of Tulsa got nothing on this thicker, humid heat.

"Hey Ulysses! Check the map again, man." Dallas tells one of the bandmates. Ulysses straightens his glasses and unfurls the map.

"See…we drove past…uhh…" Ulysses pokes his head out, "I think we just missed our exit."

The band groans.

"Donald! Ulysses say you missed the exit!" Lonnie gripes.

"I know where the hell I'm going! You gon' trust Four Eyes or you gon' trust the nigga with 20/20?" Donald fires back. The men suck their teeth and curse.

"Fuck outta here, kid. You know Donald know the safe route." Ricky chimes in.

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing. We gon' get there in the same time. I been to ATL plenty o' times. Got family out there. We gon' get there. Trust." Donald says.

"We ain't got much of a choice. You our only ride!" Jim adds.

"Get us lost I'm putting my size 14-foot up yo' ass!" Lonnie warns, peeling off his sneaker. Dallas gags.

"I don't know what's gon' kill us first. Donald or them kickin' ass feet." Dallas says, pinching his nose.

This is going to be a long ride.

Night fell. They'd been driving for six days straight, each band member taking turns. When they touched down in Birmingham, Alabama was when Dallas had to park the van and rest.

"Alright, y'all." Dallas yawned.

"Think it's time we hit the hay. Found an inn 'cross the street. I'll see how much for a room. Won't be long." Dallas says, before sliding out of the driver's seat and making his way to the inn.

The inn was sleazy, to put it nicely. The type to not ask any questions, the type Dallas likes. He enters the front lobby and slams on the bell, exhaustion making his movements snappier than usual. An older white woman shuffles her way to the front where he's at.

"Yeah?" she asks.

"Need a couple rooms for me and my friends. We could do a three-room three-bedroom each kind of deal. We got the money for it." Dallas answers, slicking his hair back the best he could. Women like her are the type he'd feel ashamed to be shirtless and barefoot in front of as a first impression, but he's too tired and hungry to care at this point.

"Where your friends?" she asks. Her face sets Dallas on edge; she looks at him like he's trash, scum on the bottom of her cheap shoes.

"They're coming," he grits out. The woman looks at him, takes a puff at her glasses, wipes them, places them back on her face and, in a tone that would be used to discuss the weather, asks, "your friends wouldn't be them niggers hiding out in that van 'cross the street, now would it?"

"'Scuse me?" Dallas replies.

"C'mon, buddy. I saw you and them niggers a mile away. We don't serve them and we don't serve you, race traitor."

"Listen here you old, withered bitch…"

"Get your nigger-lovin' ass up off my property 'fore I'm call the 'thorities. They love grabbing some new ornaments to decorate our trees. Your money no good here, and if you knew what was good for you you'd haul ass up outta here and never come back." she says.

Before Dallas could respond, she spits in his face.

Time froze for a second, Dallas stuck between processing what had just taken place and the rage coiling in his gut. Every fiber in his body told him to smack this woman right where she stood, put all the strength he had in his body to knock that bitch to the ground. He stared her down, fighting his raising hand to strike her before lowering it.

"You better thank God Almighty my mother told me not to put my hands on a woman, 'cause I beat the piss outta you, cunt." Dallas tells her, his voice low enough for her and only her to hear it. He backs away, wiping the spit off his face and smearing it on her wall. He storms out of the inn, slams the door when he's in the van, and starts the car. The band wakes up, startled and demanding answers.

"We need to get the fuck outta here. Don't say shit. We're gonna keep drivin' till we in Georgia. You hear?" he barks, hating how his voice is shaking.

"Dal, what's—"

Dallas is already speeding down the road.

AN: So, this is pretty intense, wouldn't you agree? If you guys had been up to date, you'd know that Shirley moved to Atlanta (allegedly). Where am I going with this? Atlanta as in Atlanta, GEORGIA, where Ricky's band and Dallas are heading to...?

So, if you guys liked Shirley and wanted to know about her arrival, she's coming next chapter for a reunion with Dallas after 2 years. But it won't be the reunion you're expecting!

The last chapter was some form of fluff because in future chapters, shit is about to get dark. Not everyone is going to get a happy ending because it's real life (or, as real life as a fanfiction could possibly get.). So hold on tight, grab your popcorn and safety blanket, because shit is about to hit the fan. Get ready. :)

-Zighana, OUT.