Chapter 25

Love at First Strum

South Hillwood Mall

-LILA-

You never know where you're going to be when you fall in love for the first time. Actual love, not like-like. I've been in like-like a few times, first with Arnold shortly after my arrival in Hlllwood, then with his oh-so charmingly eccentric cousin Arnie, then with Sid, sweet hot-mess Sid. But love, love was something else entirely.

The first time I experienced true love, I was in the South Hillwood Mall. It was the moment that I first saw her in the window of Sound Investments, the resident music store. I knew it was hopeless the first time I laid eyes on her curvy body, her long slender neck, her taut strings…

I'm talking about a peach Fender Telecaster electric guitar, silly, what did you think I was talking about?

Anyway, her design said "yes", but her price tag said "no". Still, every time I pass the store, my eyes could help but linger on her beauty. Oh, to hold her in my arms… but alas, she was out of my league. Financially speaking. And asking my parents probably wouldn't work, especially since they just got me my first cel. But looking was always free.

Such was the case today, as Rhonda accompanied me to my appointment at Choice Cuts. I was actually kind of surprised that someone of her social status got her hair cut at a mall salon instead of somewhere more exclusive, but apparently she'd been getting her hair done here since sixth grade and didn't see any reason to stop. For some reason, today I hesitated as we passed by the music store, my eyes once again locking on to the instrument.

"Lila?" Rhonda asked, giving my hand a slight tug.

"Just a second." In all this time, all I'd done was look. I'd never actually gone into the store. But today… today, I was feeling bold. "I just want to go into the music store for a few minutes, all right?"

"But-"

"We've got plenty of time before my appointment. Please?" Puppy-dog eyes, activate!

"*sigh* It's not about you, Rhonda, it's not about you," she muttered to herself. "Sorry… if it's something you really want to do, I'm not going to stand in your way."

"Thanks," I said, flagging down the manager, Jim judging by his name tag. "Excuse me," I asked, "can I please see the Telecaster in the window?"

"You have a good eye," the clerk (his nametag introduced him as Jim) replied, fetching the instrument from the window. "This baby delivers some pretty intense sound."

I took the instrument in my hands, feeling its weight as I slung the strap over my shoulder. My left hand cradled her (Cheryl. Her name was Cheryl.) neck, my fingers dancing over the fret. My right set of fingers got a feeling for the strings.

Jim plugged the guitar into the store's amp. "Go on," he said. "Try it out."

I gave Cheryl an experimental strum. The chord echoed through the music store. The acoustics in there weren't exactly terrific, but to my ears it sounded like a choir of angels had taken up permanent residence in my immediate vicinity.

"I didn't know you played, Lila," Rhonda remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"A little bit," I admitted. "I learned on an old acoustic back on the farm. My mama taught me, back when… well…"

"…oh," Rhonda replied, looking guilty for touching a nerve.

"It's… it's okay." I assured. "It was a long time ago. I'm… well, now, I'm just happy remembering the time I got to have with her. Though, I must admit… this does make me feel like I'm closer to her." I played a few more chords, then launched into the opening riff from "When Doves Cry." Oh, yes. That was the stuff. "Mama was a big Prince fan," I acknowledged.

"A little, huh?" commented Rhonda, a smirk decorating her lips.

"Okay, maybe more than a little. Unfortunately, I've never actually had an instrument of my own. And well, at these prices, that won't be changing any time soon." I apologetically handed the guitar back to Jim. "I'm really ever-so-sorry to have wasted your time. I just wanted to have a chance to try this baby out."

"Well… you know… if you really want the guitar, we might be able to work out an installment plan…"

"Seriously? I can have this?"

"Well… it's not store policy, but if I take a few creative liberties with the paperwork, it can be arranged."

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"I'd do it for any true music lover. You think I work here for the $9.95 an hour? I work here because I love music, and I saw the same love in your eyes the moment you held that guitar for the first time. It was love at first strum. I know the look on sight. That guitar was yours. Ownership was merely a formality."

"Well, gosh, I'm ever-so grateful for-"

"JIM!" An angry, red-faced, heavy-set man, hairless other than bushy mustache and heavy eyebrows that seemed locked in a perpetual scowl, was bearing down on us. "Are you pulling that 'joy of music' crap again? We're to make a profit, not spread *la-di-da voice* sunshine and rainbows across the land! No handouts!"

"I, er, I wasn't giving her a hand-out, I was just going to offer her a reasonable installment plan…"

"And let me guess, you were just gong to let her walk out of here with the instrument on the promise that she'd *sarcastic voice* eventually bring the first payment. We're running a business here, not a magical musical fairyland! If she can't put the money down right now, she doesn't get the guitar. Case closed." He turned toward me, glaring. "Well? Can you?"

"Well, not right now…"

"Case. Closed." The manager reiterated.

"Hey, if money's the problem," began Rhonda, reaching for her purse. I held her arm back.

"It's fine. I'll scrape up the money on my own. I'm not looking for a handout."

"It's not a-"

"We both know it is. When have you ever asked for a repayment on any of the so-called 'loans' you float people? I know you mean well, but I'm going to get Cheryl on my own, okay?"

"But- wait, Cheryl?"

"Yes. Cheryl. I named my guitar. That's normal, right? BB King did it." I grabbed her hand. "Now, come on, let's go to the salon. And don't you dare even think about sneaking back here later to buy me the guitar, because I will find out. Got that?"

"*sigh* Got it. Now let go. You're hurting me."

"Oh." I had no idea just how hard I had been squeezing her hand. I don't know my own strength sometimes..

Choice Cuts

I could tell that Rhonda was still trying to figure out a loophole that would allow her to get me that guitar, because of course she was. Spending her money on her friends was clearly her way to assuage the internal guilt she felt at being born in a state of privilege. It didn't take a Dr. Bliss to determine that. It was sweet, but also kind of annoying at times with her belief that she could fix things by throwing money at them. In truth, I only agreed to let Rhonda in on this trip if she swore she wouldn't use her own money to pay for it. She agreed because the prospect of being locked out of a makeover was even more upsetting to her than the prospect of letting someone pay their own way.

Choice Cuts was like something out of a music video from the 80s, all neon and pastels and angular decorations. All around, cosmeticians were going to work on customers of all genders.

"Rhonda, dear!" a man with a hint of a British accent hailed. "A bit early for you, isn't it?"

"It's not for me this time, Clive," she replied. "My friend Lila here is in the market for a new look."

"…hi," I said, giving a little wave.

"Oh, aren't you just the most precious thing," he gushed. "I swear, if there was a girl like you around when I was your age, things might have been very different for me."

"Don't be too flattered, he says that to all the girls," Rhonda whispered.

"I kind of figured," I replied. "Anyway, it's like she said. I'm looking for a new look that reflects the kind of person I'm becoming."

"Well, that's wonderful. I believe Moira just became free. Oh, Moira…"

"Wait, Moira?" Rhonda interjected. "But isn't that-"

Responding to Clive's call was a woman with a fashion sense that could only be described as… eclectic. Her attire was a neon-green miniskirt, shredded fishnet stockings, black go-go boots, a ragged Union Jack tank top, and criss-crossed white belts. Her face sported eyebrow, nostril, and lip piercings, plus no less than four earrings per ear. Her head was crowned by a lilac-tinted buzzcut crested by a shocking pink mohawk.

"Oh, is this me new client?" the stylist asked. "Cheers. Me name's Moira… but everyone calls me Quirk."

"It's okay, Lila, we can wait for the next-"

"She's perfect," I said. "Let's do this."

-RHONDA-

The next half hour, for me, was spent in the waiting room pretending to thumb through magazines while inwardly dreading the depredations that Quirk would be visiting on Lila's precious, precious locks. Poor girl. She was truly unprepared for the horrors that were about to be unleashed. I could only hope that her coif would recover by the time school started. I should never have let that poor girl go in alone.

"Rhonda?"

She was done. All right, girl… you can do this You've seen some truly horrible things. You can face this.

I looked up.

"…oh… my word. You look… amazing."

Lila's hair had been shorn down to a spiky pixie cut, with burgundy highlights added to her natural auburn. The intense reds made her green eyes pop all the more.

I knew I was right to trust her.

No you didn't, my conscience shot back. Shut up, I told it. I can be a hypocrite if I want to.

"So, you like it?" she asked.

"I do, but the important thing isn't if I like, it, it's if you like it. Do you like it?"

"I love it," she said, her grin almost on the verge of manic. "At first, I wasn't going to get the highlights, but then I thought, I've gone this far, why not go all the way? So… yeah. This is the new me, and I think I like it." She gave her hair a fluff.

"Okay. Next step is getting you some clothing to complete the new look."

*Cue fashion montage to Madonna's "Vogue" as our heroines visit such stores as "Bumbercraston and Plover", "The Void", "Sociologie", "Eternally 19", "Andie's", "Sore Subject", "Voyages", "Pineapple Nation", and others that are totally not parodies of real-world stores. Cue typical "Lila emerges in various silly outfits, Rhonda giving each a "thumbs down", or shaking her head, or visibly gagging at one particularly bad one. Until at last they find the perfect-*

"Rhonda?" Lila snapped her fingers in my face. "You kind of blanked out for a second there. Were you having a Hollywood fashion montage fantasy?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Sorry. Any ideas? You clearly have a good idea of what you're looking for."

"Really? You're not going to give any input?"

"Nope. Much as it pains me, I'm going to let you do all the driving on this one. You obviously know what you're doing."

"Hmmm… you sure we can't raid your closet?"

"Uh, how do I put this delicately, Lila… While I would be happy to share my wardrobe, you have certain… differences in anatomy that would make it impossible. By which I mean your tits and ass outclass mine by an order of magnitude." Lila's blush at the wording signified that she still had a bit of a way to go before fully breaking out of her shell.

In the end, we decided on a black T-shirt with a phoenix logo, a denim skirt, and black boots. We also hit the piercing kiosk (Ruth was working it and she's cool, so there were no issues with the whole alien bleeding thing) and got Lila a second piercing per ear; not quite as outrageous as Quirk, but a step forward.

"Well?" I asked. "How do you feel?"

"Pretty great," she said. "I'm not sure exactly how my daddy's going to react, but I did this for me, not for him. Of course, it would've been nice if I could get the guitar too…"

"Yeah," I agreed. "And hell, I'd have an excuse to start my bass lessons back up again. We could jam."

"That would be cool," she agreed back. "Maybe we could even start a band or something…"

"Yeah, that would be great. Maybe we could even get good enough to play the cheese festival when it comes…"

"Well, I suppose maybe I'll be able to save up enough for the downpayment by the end of the summer," she mused. "Of course I'd still have to keep up the payments after that…" She looked at me sideways. "You're still going planning to come back here and buy it, aren't you."

"No, I swear. Actually, I kinda just had this same argument with Nadine when I got her a new game system, so, yeah, I get where you're coming from, okay? I promise I won't buy you the guitar!"

"Good."

Well… technically, if I get the whole gang to chip in to buy it for her birthday on the 27th, then, technically, I'm not the one who bought it, am I? Technically. Yes, that should be more than enough rationalization.

"Hmm… I just realized, what are we going to do about Decibelle's hair? It would look kind of weird if she just suddenly showed up with a new haircut…"

"Oh, that shouldn't be a problem. I own a ton of wigs. One of them should do the job."

"That's going to be weird."

"I can pretty much guarantee it's not your hair everyone's going to be looking at. Well… I think we're all set, so we have the rest of the day to kill… any ideas, seeing as you're still the one driving?"

"Hmm…" She rubbed her chin. "Well, I was thinking my wrist needs a little something…"

"Oh, like a bracelet?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a thorny vine tattoo."

"…yeah, I think that one would really make your daddy freak out."

"Hmm, yes, I suppose that's true. Perhaps I should hold off until I'm out of the house… yeah, maybe a bracelet would be best. Ooh, there's a bead kiosk!"

"I think that green-and-blue one has your name on it."

"Oh, yes, that's perfect! And maybe this necklace to go with it…."

Well, this was a good day. It was really nice to be back in my element, and get my mind off my troubles. I knew this lull wouldn't last forever, and that soon I'd probably be mired in unwanted family drama, but for right now, life was good.

A.N.: Short chapter, but an important one, as we get a look at the all-new, all-punk-rock Lila! I really wanted to take her in a new direction that wasn't either "mean girl" (it's been done to death, and beyond), "boring girl to contrast to Helga", or "confidant to Helga but otherwise pretty much the same," which seem to be the three basic modes for Lila in ficdom. I wanted to give her a passion that doesn't revolve around a guy, and music seemed like the perfect one for her. And having her love of music be her mom's legacy to her felt natural.

Sstockbridge1986: In the words of a very wise man, "Well, that's, like, your opinion, man." I really don't view ships as sacred, because if you pick the wrong one things could get messy. EXCEPT FOR LUMITY THAT SHIT IS CANON AND I WILL FIGHT YOU IRL IF YOU SAY OTHERWISE. *coughs* Sorry. I've been really into The Owl House lately.

PeguinLord: Thank you, I'm glad you like it.

Jose: Yeah, that's Clayton's PI's car.

Veganmama: Well here it is, hope you like it!

See you next chapter!