Now, Cassie, her actual name was Cassandra. Cassie was just how we called her. She was white trash. Strong southern accent, back yard that was filled ...ith rusted metal in piles and dying brown grass all year long, Confederate flag was hung up with pride in the back of the garage, and she could tell you about any country music song or how to start up a tractor-trailer semi-truck.It was about ten after seven when I arrived. I didn't want to seem too eager for what we were wanting to do. I did as. “Fuck! Shannon?” Kristi patted down the cooler to listen for broken glass inside. She sighed relief.“Dude, calm down,” Shannon webbed her fingers through her hair and shook herself out over her shoulders, “Now give me the Charming Prince.”“Fine,” She unzipped the cooler and dragged out the bottle. Shannon grabbed the top and was about to dump it onto the ground, “Do we need the peacock strands?”“No, I have more in the toolbox,” She dug out a small plastic sewing kit from under a couple of glass. More

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