Evermore, Nevermore Forget Me Not

Late Night

Setting: Elvira's apartment, not long after they left the Hofstadters'...

"Cowgirl's finally asleep," Georgie says quietly as he comes into the living area from Hyla's bedroom, "but what's with all the nerd crap in 'er room?"

"She's actually pretty darn smart fur a five year old," Elvira sighs out, "Yer brother's already gotter so smart with his science stuff, that she's at a fifth grade level..."

"Why does it seem like there's a 'but' comin on?" He asks as he takes the beer she's holding out to him

"None of the preschools will taker," Elvira tells him quietly, "cause she can't talk-"

"That's a load of bull," Georgie comments in aggravation

"It's discrimination," she adds in

"What was she like?" He asks changing topics

"What ya mean?" She asks confused, "she ain't changed none, other than not bein able ta speak-"

"I mean when she was born?" He clarifies, "the years I missed-"

"Oh," she sighs, "hang on-"

     Elvira puts her can of sprite down and goes into her own room for a moment, then comes back out with a photo album and hands it to him...

"This is all I've got," she tells him quietly, "it's from when she was three, to now-any earlier photos of her got burned up in the fire along with the rest of our stuff..."

     Georgie sets down his beer as he takes the album and looks through it at the pictures of Elvira and his little cowgirl; she's smiling in almost every photo, but he notices that Elvira isn't in a lot of them...

"Y'all ain't in too many," He points out

"Well somebody's gotta take the picture cowboy," she says laughing slightly, " my old boss or 'is family took the ones ya see with me in 'em."

"Ya still 'aven't told me what is that y'all use ta do," he tells her as he closes the album

"Worked in a bar at first," she admits, "then became a risin singer fur awhile-till the fire," she adds in, "after the fire, I gave it up and now work at the Cheesecake Factory."

"..." he goes quiet for a bit

"What's on yer mind cowboy?" She asks eyeing him

"..." he turns his head and looks at her, "What's yer opinion on luck?"

"..." she just stares at him, "I think it's a load of crap-ain't nobody get nothin they want just 'cause they got any type of luck," she adds in, "if y'all want somethin, ya gotta work yer ass off fur it and y'all only cause yerself set backs if ya try takin sort cuts or the easy path over the one that's harder...what's all this talk bout luck though?"

"Nothin," he chuckles as he recalls his aunt's words

"Right," she states not believing him, but lets it go, "What bout you?" She asks him, changing topics again, "tell me bout buildin yer empire."

"Well," he starts with a sigh as he rubs the back of his neck, "when my dad died," he starts again, "I worked a number of jobs ta help my mom out with things, " he tells her, "I was a rodeo clown a couple of time durin summer time..."

"Yea, I can see ya doin that cowboy," she says as she bursts out laughing, "what else?"

"Worked with a construction company fur a while," he says thinking, "and as a mechanic in an auto body repair shop-then I went ta college fur half a semester and eventually opened up my first store."