Nyx
Amadeo Stagg drove his truck to the front of the school, and leaned out the window to talk to the speakerphone. "It's Amadeo."
"And that would mean what to me, sweetie?" Nyx asked, filing her nails and deadly bored on security duty.
"Former student, but the prof wanted me t' do some building work, ma'am, he drawled in a sweet as molasses Southern accent.
"Ooh, you're from the South!"
"Yes, ma'am. C'n I come on in?"
"Let me check, sweetie." Nyx swung across to press the button to the speakerphone in Xavier's office. "We got a visitor, Xavvy."
"That would be Amadeo, thank you, Nyx. Let him in."
"You do know it's kinda futile doing renovations when the world is gonna end in a few months?" She pointed out sweetly.
"He's going to be doing a lot more then renovations. He's a gifted architect and one of the designers of the bottom half of the School."
"Budding genius, then?"
"Of a type. Send him to my office, please, Nyx."
"As ya want it." She let go and swiveled back to the gatespeaker. "You can come in, sweetie." She opened the gate."
"Thank you kindly, ma'am." Amadeo tipped his hat at
the videocamera and slowly rolled his flatbed truck up
the driveway. "Big wheels keep on turning
Carry me home to see my kin
Singing songs about the Southland
I miss Alabamy once again
And I think its a sin, yes
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Well I heard mister Young sing about her
Well, I heard ole Neil put her down
Well, I hope Neil Young will remember
A Southern man don't need him around anyhow
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you..." His husky bass
carried the song as it came on the radio. He pulled up
at the front of the mansion, side of his truck
proclaiming 'A. Stagg, Builder and Renovater' and the
leaping hart highlighted against a rising moon. His
logo. And hadn't he worked his ass off to get here.
Oh, lordy yes. He hummed the song under his breath,
which then somehow turned into 'Swing low, sweet
chariot'. Which made him chuckle. Y'all can take the
boy out of the South, but y'all can't take the South
out of the boy. Yes, ma'am.
"Amadeo...so good to see you." Xavier nodded from behind his desk, and didn't that bring back memories.
"Yes, suh. You said y'all had a job for me?" He sat himself in the chair across from the professor.
"This is what I want..." Xavier explained. Amadeo listened, face thoughtful.
"Y'all know this is gonna cost ya mite of that cash you've squirreled away?"
"Yes. Cost is irrevlaent."
"Well, I'm really glad to hear that, lordy I am. I have a business to run." Xavier's expression let him know the redneck from Alabahma act wasn't working. Amadeo smiled. "Never could fool yuh, suh."
"No, you never could. Can you do it?"
"What, build this? Yes suh, I surely can." Amadeo gathered the plans up in his large hands. "I'll go take a mosy along outside. Git meself a feel for the place."
"And I need you to go to the attic and look at what you can do to make it a better bedroom."
"Y'all got somewhen stashed away up there? Y'ain't crowded or nuthin', are y'all?"
"He preffered it away from people."
"Okay, let me just go have me a bit of a looksee..." Amadeo ambled out of the room and wandered around the mansion, ignoring the whispers. Occasionally, he'd get his tape out of his toolbelt and measure a doorway. comparing it against the plans he held in his hand. "Lordy lordy lord, look after y'all chillens." He shook his head slightly. "Know we don't." He tapped a pencil thoughtfully against his upper teeth. "In Birmingham they love the governor ohh ooohh ohhh......
Now we all did what we could do..."
He headed up to the attic. No one was in there, and he took his measurements, marked a few places and scribbled notes on the wall, then left.
"Now Watergate does not bother me
Does your conscience bother you?
Tell the truth..."
Outside and ignoring the students. He remembered being one of them. And then the professor found him something better to do with his hands. Building. He'd had a knack for designing too. Got his degree in two years, his teachers loved his work so.
"Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
Here I come Alabama..."
Except he couldn't. Pa was a preacher, and preachers sons don't become goddamn FAG-ggots or ho-mo-sexshuals, NO SUH! So he didn't exist anymore. Fine with him. He didn't want to exist to them. Davyd...Davyd was different. Only one had bothered to keep in contact. They'd always had a bond. And then had come that slightly faltering conversation...and Davyd had moved to New York. To become an actor, but also to be himself. Had a boyfriend now too. And working on that play.
"Now Muscle Shoals has got the Swampers
And they've been known to pick a song or two
Lord they get me off so much
They pick me up when I'm feeling blue
Now how about you?"
And didn't Amadeo want to grind it in their faces that Davyd had made it? Oh, lord-Y yes. But Davyd wouldn't. Poor kid. At least Amadeo had always been an ornery piece of work, but all Davyd had ever wanted was to be loved. Amadeo sighed.
"Ahhh, Ahhhhh ah, Alabama
Ahhh, Ahhhhh, ah, Alabama
Ahhh, Ahhhhh, ah, Alabama
Ahhh, Ahhhhh, ah, Alabama
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
Sweet home Alabama
Oh sweet home baby
Where the skies are so blue
And the governor's true
Sweet Home Alabama
Lordy Lord, I'm coming home to you
Yea, yea Montgomery's got the answer..."
Amadeo finished his work and went to one of his other sites to oversee it for a bit. Stone hadn't been working well lately...
OOC: 'Sweet home Alabama' by Skynyrd Lynyrd