She was awoken promptly at 8 am by the bells of the church ringing. Mae's mom would be there with pastor Kate and all the good people of Possum Springs. The Church of the First Coalescence. What the hell was that anyway? Probably some play on "Coal" from hundreds of years ago. Probably.

She got up and started getting ready. While in the shower she pondered what would happen if she showed up at the church. Probably nothing. They'd likely welcome her with open arms. She found it increasingly hard to hate people who were so nice, but she was still going to try.

She laced up her boots and looked at herself in the mirror. Yup, that was Beatrice Santello in the mirror. Going to work on her one day off. Such was this gator's life. She noticed another scale loose near the base of her neck. Age stops for no one.

Before leaving for the Pickaxe, she made a hasty breakfast for her dad and herself before disturbing his rest with a knock on his door. The snoring stopped.

"Going in? It's Sunday," he said drowsily.

"Yeah, I know. Nothing better to do."

"I'll clean up the place while you're gone. After the Smelter's game."

"Thanks Dad. Not sure when I'll close up."

"Love you Bea."

"Love you too Dad."

It was a short walk to the Pickaxe, and all was as she'd left it the night before. She once thought people were breaking in and stealing stuff when she'd first started working with her Dad here, but now that she did all the inventory, it was clear nothing like that was happening. Dad just didn't do a very good job of inventory. Maybe there had been some shoplifting, but no actual robbery. She walked in, turned on the lights and sat behind the counter.

Two hours later and no one had come in. Expected really, but what else was there to do? Staying with Dad was too depressing. She had her laptop with her at least.

Then she realized she'd left her 'little something' on the nightstand. Her dad would find it. He probably wouldn't say anything, but it would be embarrassing anyway. Not till after the Smelters game, but still. She'd have to go home before then.

A movement outside caught her eye. Angus and Gregg and Casey.

"Oh no", she thought. Gregg had spotted her. "Too late now."

They came inside.

"BEATRICE!" Gregg said too loudly. She winced.

"Hey Bea," said Casey and Angus together.

"What do you want? Need to borrow my car or a ride somewhere?"

"Not this time, Bea," Angus said. "We need you."

Bea cringed. She'd anticipated this might happen.

"Me? For what?"

"The band, Bea. Since Mae's been gone, we've got no bass player," Gregg explained.

"Yeah. And it really sucks without it."

"I was under the impression you didn't like Mae's bass playing actually."

Gregg and Casey looked at Angus.

"Well, she's not good," he said, giving his Honesty Hands-Out gesture.

"You never said that," Casey pointed out, confused.

"She sucks, guys," Angus protested, "but we all suck, so it's better to have a sucky bass than have no bass."

"Why do you care anyway? You don't play out," Bea asked, though she already knew what they meant. She was already digging through her program list to see if she could find the sequencer music program she'd used a couple years ago when Angus had asked if she could help out when Casey had been incarcerated for a week.

Casey made a grandiose gesture. "We play for the ART!"

"Yeah Bea! For the ART!" Gregg repeated.

Bea frowned at Angus, one eyebrow raised.

"Please Bea?"

"Oh, you know I will. Do you have some recordings or anything I can use to model it by?"

"Just happen to have a tape here," Angus said. He handed Bea a cassette tape. Ancient technology, Bea thought, but she also happened to have an ancient technology tape player. Hell, she had a real phonograph player!

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"Does this have Mae in it too, so I know what to program?"

"Some. From earlier this year. We've got some new songs on there too, without her. You can make up whatever you want for those."

"Guys, I'm not a musician. I'll just program 8th note roots, okay?"

"Sure!" Gregg and Angus agreed simultaneously.

"Er..." Casey said dubiously. "Just straight 8th notes?"

Bea ignored him. "Alright, when do you practice next?"

"Um..." Gregg stammered.

"Well..." Angus started.

"Tonight." Casey said.

"Tonight? What? You expect me to drop everything and just work on this? I'm not even a musician!"

"Think of the Art!" Angus tried, but she wasn't having it.

"I can help," Casey suggested hopefully. "The bass usually follows the kick drum. I don't know notes, but I sure as hell know it will suck if you just program straight 8th notes all the way!"

Angus looked at her with his pleading eyes. Which she could never see behind his glasses, but she could feel them.

"Okay. I'll do it. But only because I've got absolutely nothing else to do."

"Cool!"

Angus took her hand and shook it. "Welcome to the band, Bea!"

The others did likewise, and it took a bit of effort to keep from cracking a smile, but she managed.

"So, what's the name of the band?"

The three looked back at her with blank faces.

"We... don't really have a name."

"Oh, come on - we have to at least have a name."

Gregg scratched his head. "Maybe if we combine our initials in some way?"

Bea sarcastically pointed out that their initials were ABCG.

"Ay Bee Cee Gees?"

"Bacgammon?"

"Garbage?"

"Gregg, there's no C in Garbage. Besides, I think it's taken."

"Sea Garbage!" Angus blurted, followed by "WarlockKnife!".

Bea scowled. "Angus... really? 'WarlockKnife'? That's kinda blatant."

"Well... I dunno how to pick band names!"

Casey looked confused. "What's wrong with WarlockKnife?"

Bea looked back at him, disappointed. "WitchDagger? WarlockKnife?"

"Oh. yeah."

"Well never mind," Bea said, incongruously trying to cheer up the group. "It doesn't matter."

"Okay - it's settled then anyway," Angus said happily. "I gotta get back to the Outpost."

"And I left the Snack Falcon open."

Bea's eyes went wide. "Gregg! Tell me you're kidding. You didn't just leave the Falcon unmanned and unlocked!??"

The fox shrugged. "I do it all the time."

Bea made a mental note never to hire Gregg. Not that she needed the reminder.

Angus and Gregg left, leaving Casey and Bea alone.

The awkward silence was deafening. But Bea liked awkward silences.

"So, you wanna listen to the tape?"

"Can't. My tape player's back at my apartment," Bea said. She oddly enjoyed Casey's obvious discomfort. She didn't know him well, but everyone knows something about everyone in Possum Springs.

She let the silence linger, watching Casey's eyes dart around like a cornered animal. It was fun. Finally she relented.

"Oh, come on. Let's go to my place."

"What about the Pickaxe?"

"Supposed to be closed anyway."

"Oh. Okay then. Where do you live?"

"Just up the road in an apartment with my dad. Won't take long. Wait outside while I lock up," Bea suggested, shooing Casey out.

In a few minutes, she emerged. Casey stood up from where he was sitting against the building and Bea realized she hadn't had a cigarette in... well, longer than normal. She pulled one out and lit it.

"Got another?"

Bea eyed Casey sideways, but fished out another and handed it to him. He smiled at her and took the lit cigarette from her mouth and used it to light his own, handing her's back. She considered getting angry with the familiarity, but decided it wasn't worth the energy.

"You smoke?"

"Right now I do," he smiled, puffing but obviously not inhaling.

"Hmm. Well, you got your one loaner from me today. You want more, go buy your own."

"Got it," Casey said as they began the walk back to Bea's place.

"So, is it true what they say about your cousin?"

"I dunno. What have you heard?"

"I hear he died when his meth lab blew up. Is that true?"

"Bea, I don't know what happened to him. Maybe. I know he's dead is all. Not like we hung out together or anything."

"An explosion?"

"Yeah. In his mobile home. Might have been a meth lab. Or might have been a gas leak for all I know. Police aren't talking."

"Hmm... " Bea mused for awhile, puffing. "You do meth?"

Casey stopped. "A lot of questions, Bea. Yeah. I've done meth before. You want some?"

"You're an idiot."

"Well fuck you."

"No, thanks. No, I just wanted to know who I was talking to. Meth head?"

"I'm not a meth head! I've just... experimented."

"Uh huh. When was the last time?"

"Fuck you," Casey said, anger coming over his features. "I don't have to put up with this shit. I'm out."

"Wait," Bea said, grabbing his arm. "I'm sorry. Come on, I didn't mean anything."

Casey's face returned to normal. Mostly.

"I'm not a meth head. I just... hate this town. Lets me get away sorta, you know?"

"I understand," Bea lied. "Just, don't ever do it around me, okay?"

"Beatrice the Pure?"

"No. I just don't need the hassle. Come on, I'm on the third floor. Number 302. I take the stairs. It's faster."

"Okay. You say your dad's there?"

"Yeah. We share the place. Got a problem with that?" Bea asked as they started up the stairs.

"Oh hell no. I live with my mom and dad still."

"You got a job, Casey?"

"Not a real job. I work for my dad weekdays sometimes. But he doesn't pay me. Well, not much anyway. But free room and board I suppose."

"Yeah, I figured. Well, this is it. Don't worry about my dad. He's okay."

Bea opened the door and heard the TV on immediately.

"Hey dad."

"Hey Beebee. Who's your friend?"

"This is Casey. He's a drummer in Angus' band. They want me to play bass."

"Hi Mr. Santello," Casey said, introducing himself.

"Well, welcome Casey," he said, turning back to the TV.

"We'll be playing some music, dad."

"Okay. Close the door then."

Bea nodded to her door at the end of the small hall and Casey followed her in. She put her laptop bag on the floor as Casey sat on the bed - the only seat in the room. Bea closed the door and then stopped. For the first time in her life, she truly understood the word "mortified".

Slowly she turned around, hoping against hope. But it was still there on the table, right beside Casey. He was looking at her, apparently not yet having noticed, but her eyes gave it away. He followed her glances between him and the device on the table. His eyes grew wide as they locked onto it, and her heart sank as she saw the grin start.

She knew she should have got the non-anatomically correct version. At least then she could have pretended it was something else. Too late now. This was gonna be bad.