Thursday, July 3, 1969 - 10:45am.
"God, I wish I was dead," Peggy Wilson mutters as she pulls her red '67 El Camino into the lot out back of the cafe, but the girl slouched in the shotgun seat with her bare feet up on the dash doesn't even look at her.
"Again, sis?" she asks, blowing on the newly-applied purple polish glistening on her toes. "Don't that get kinda old?"
"Don't vex me," Peggy warns, scowling at her as she cuts the ignition. "I'm having a really shitty day." Then she sees what her younger sister has chosen to wear that day – a short black jean skirt and a white off-the-shoulder crop top - and her scowl deepens.
"Lacy Ann Wilson, you can't work in the cafe dressed like that! It's not decent."
Now Lacy glances up, her green eyes narrowed behind a veil of disheveled blonde hair.
"Says who, you? An' you ain't Ma, so quit triple-namin' me."
Peggy gives Lacy a glare meant to fry her graveyard dead, then sighs and wonders if maybe, despite having the same color hair and eyes, one of them might be adopted.
While Peggy herself is short and curvy, with pixie-cut hair and a larger bust, Lacy is tall and slender with long, tanned legs and small upthrust breasts.
And much longer hair, which Peggy hates most of all.
As if reading her mind, Lacy pulls a hairbrush from her purse and – ignoring the other girl completely – begins dragging it through her messy locks.
Peggy's temper flares. "Damnit, Lacy, put down that brush and look at me! This ain't about Ma, 'cause Lord knows she lets you run wild anyway, but maybe you oughtta heed me more than you do. I am six years older'n you."
"Makes you twenty-one, not God." Lacy attacks her hair with a few more strokes, drops the brush back into her purse, and opens the passenger door. "Listen, Peg, thanks for droppin' me off, really, but I best get on inside 'fore Ma has a hissy."
She starts to slide out of the pickup, but Peggy's voice stops her.
Lacy blows out an exasperated breath. "Now what?"
"Shouldn't you have worn a bra for once in your life? That top is almost see-through!"
Lacy looks down at herself and flashes Peggy a wicked grin. "It is, ain't it? You reckon maybe I'll make enough tips today to finally buy that new Guess Who album?"
Then she's gone, slamming her door and jogging barefooted toward her mother's cafe.