Black Velvet (52) (Patreon)

(Tobias is back in the next chapter, I swear!  Also, yes! I’ve made some changes, because Charlie-Anne deserves her own background events that aren’t tied to her unrequited ex-crush on Oliver and Nic and Joseph have their own plot lines in a separate book.)

—

If I had an arch-nemesis, it would be Blake Ragsdale himself, and the annoying sidekick would be his modern and meaningless tribal tattoo, one he likes to show by cutting off the sleeves of his poor, sacrificial t-shirts.

I'm the designated driver at another one of his parties when I decide, with permanence, that I cannot stand him. He's griping about girls and their supposed love for him, and I'm up against the wall wondering how he's ever even come into contact with one who isn't under the effects of hallucinogenics.

He, as my unwitting arch-nemesis, has no idea that I've thought about stomping on his toes twice already and continues on about some sex story he probably withdrew from a 90's porn. My gaze flickers to the television behind him every now and again to keep myself awake.

"Then you know,"  Blake raises his brows, severely gelled hair having a hard time functioning against the movement of his forehead — or any expressive movements, for that matter.  "She was like, trying to tell people we were a thing. Like we were dating or something.  Totally weird. Because I'm single."

Thankfully, I haven't been trapped into one of his drunken fabrications alone.  No, Annalise and Charlie-Anne have somehow become just as unlucky, probably because Blake intends to woo the newly single Annalise.

"Oh yeah.  Weirdest thing I've heard all day,"  Annalise sighs loud enough to get my attention, and my gaze shifts to hers. She's Seth Halabay's ex, has lost the shield of his reputation, and desperate men are flocking.  "and that's sayin' a lot."

Annalise rolls her eyes, taking another swig of her beer.  I understand her fast recovery from Seth's shadow.  She gleams of old money and small-town power, but she winks like we're sharing a private joke. It's a welcome change from the threatening tone she had the night I called her, attempting to check on Charlie-Anne.

"I know!"  Blake's nodding along to his own words,  like sarcasm, is another language that is completely lost on him,  "So clingy, thought she was going to turn out to be an ax murderer or something."

"Well, Baxter,"

"Blake."

"Right, Bart, my bad. So. This gal,"  Annalise hums, clearly unimpressed by Blake's signature tales of manliness hour.  "Talked to you, right?  Like — communicated with you?"

Charlie-Anne leans closer, and I've started to notice that she's more attentive when Annalise speaks than anyone else.

"Blake.  Some girls just talk a lot. But not you, totally not like you," Blake beams because he feels this is the highest form of compliment,  "but she, she was like, I wanna be a nurse this and I love dogs that — love my grandma, she has cancer — blah. Mood killer."

"Oh, Jesus," Charlie-Anne mutters.  "Jesus, Blake.  What the fuck."

"She talked to ya',"  Annalise raises a plucked brow,  "like... She exists?  She talked to you and still fucked you — after talkin' to you ?"

"Yeah?"  Blake seems a bit confused at that, turns when Nic runs up with another two bottles of something foggy and cold,  "What do you mean?"

"I'm just trying to figure out the likelihood of someone being attracted to ya', is all,"  Annalise makes a face of disgust,  "this is becoming a bizarre day for me."

"Oh, come on, Anna. Maybe she lost her dildo,"  Charlie-Anne snorts, surprisingly confident, and Blake looks like he's doing long-division in his head. "and this was her next best option?"

Annalise tips her drink towards Charlie-Anne,

"Ahh, biodegradable over rubber, an environmental girl,"  Annalise sighs again, but this time in mock sadness,  "I guess everyone makes mistakes."

"But few make one quite so big."  Charlie-Anne nods sympathetically, and Annalise suddenly smiles.

"Can we go?" She asks, and Nic looks oddly surprised from the side of gel-boy.  I smile a bit at the redhead when her tennis shoe sticks to the uncarpeted floor, her tiny, excited trip making her cheeks flush heavier.  "We can talk about things like — I dunno, if alternate realties exist where Blake isn't still fappin' it to his misogynistic imagination?"

Blake squints again, and I imagine the division has just gotten harder.

"Ah. Yes,"  Charlie-Anne looks back at me again,  "yep.  I'm coming.  Non-slip shoes — you know? The worst. I'll be,"   she points towards Anna and looks towards me, "I'll be there. Oliver. With,"

Charlie-Anne turns back suddenly, running up to me, where she cups her mouth and whispers,

"I can't believe I might become friends with Annalise Egbe."

And at that, I'm left with Blake and Nic, the house loud with drunken antics and terrible music.  Nic is unbothered as ever, typically straying very far from Jameson politics — and straight into whatever kind of pleasure or happiness he can pull from the tired town.

Tonight, the pleasure is strobe lights.

"I'm surprised you came to my party, man.  It's so hard to get a hold of the town slut nowadays." Blake grins and shoulders Nic a bit too roughly.  Nic doesn't react too much to the nickname, just a stray flinch and set of his jaw, because, as I've said, he strays from the politics of it all.

"Team misses you, bro."  Blake's voice turns kinder with that, but he's crossing his arms as a group of girls pass him, probably in hopes of flexing less obviously.

Nic nods, and I remember his words,

Free alcohol.

"Yeah, I've been hanging out with Toby and Joseph on my break, but I'm heading out in a couple of days, so,"  Nic shrugs,  "I figured I'd swing by and liven things up.  It's what I do."

"Ah dude, Toby?  Still?"  Blake is unimpressed, leaning back against one of the shelving fixtures. "Like, still?"

"Yeah, Toby.  Still."  Nic pops the cap from his drink and side-eyes him, "Dude, don't sour the mood. Let's have fun tonight."

"Nah, I want you to tell me why you're hanging around Toby, man." Blake shudders, "I'm way better company."

"...You're jealous of him, I get it,"  My brother's voice is forced into playfulness, the tired set of his eyes still not entirely gone,  "... Like I said; let's just have fun tonight."

"Jealous?  Me?  Of that crazy dog?" Blake barks out a laugh, and I wrinkle my nose, disgust evident,  "Nah. Glad you left that sucker at home," he shakes his head.  "He needs a rabies shot."

"Blake, shut the fuck up."  Nic chides, suddenly annoyed.  "You're strangling my buzz.  Don't you have better things to talk about?"

Blake doesn't respond but makes a woofing sound, and I bristle,

"We get your stupid joke."  Nic snatches his bottle of vodka.  "Quit being a meathead, or I'm leaving, you fuck.  Handle your alcohol better."

"Relax.  It's just a joke.  Has the dog been mounting you or some shit?"  Blake's nose wrinkles into an unfriendly snarl,  "shit, man."

"Why don't you find a different topic?  Like, trying to convince us that you've lost your virginity?"  My eyes narrow as I say it, and Blake's snap to mine, turning downright venomous.

"Well, it's the talk of the town — what else am I supposed to talk about?"  He scoffs,  "It's the best shit we've had all year.  Town golden-boy snaps, fucks up his dad — what's better than that?"

"Legit, anything you dick.  Tell me about your hair gel. How'd you get it so — uh?" Nic motions towards his hair, distaste a little too obvious, "Stiff."

"Ah fuck off, dude. What do you want me to say?  Sorry,"  Blake pouts for a moment before his ego reinflates.  "... You've gotta be pissed too, though.  Heard he's leaving an empty spot on the team. How're you gonna forgive that?"

My eyes snap up, and Nic rolls his.  Nothing changes about him, not his stance or expression —

"That's another shit rumor," Nic says nonchalantly. His sentence is damning in a way that he isn't aware of. Our hope is embarrassing. He twists the cap of his drink,  "And I'll forgive him. Like I forgive you when you're drunk off your ass and being a prick — like now."

My stomach rolls, and Blake's eyes twinkle a bit dangerously as he sips from his drink, laugh growing into something mean.

"Is that it?"

"That's it."

"Love telling you I told you so," Blake shrugs,  and Nic's eyebrows twist in genuine discomfort — or confusion, I'm not sure which.  "We'll see."

"Anyway, heard Annalise Egbe is finally single,"  Blake coos and sidesteps us with a smarmy lean into Nic's ear. "Friends with Joseph, right?  Tell him to give her my number."

—

"You don't like butter on your pancakes?" Charlie-Anne pouts a bit at Nic's refusal, scraping the pale yellow offering from his dish and back onto her pancakes. "... Are they even good without it?"

"I don't eat animal by-products." Nic shrugs and smirks when her brows raise curiously,  "but thanks for, quite literally, trying to butter me up."

I gag.

"Oh, be quiet.  There's egg and milk in pancakes, isn't there?" She's shoving a forkful of them into her mouth, unbothered by the fact that there's syrup that's stuck to her chin, or maybe, she's just too mesmerized by Nic's unwillingness to slather his pancakes in animal fat.

Annalise, Joseph's invite of the day, with her primped hair and ironed dress top, isn't paying much mind at all, which is probably for the best.  I squint — wondering if maybe I'm seeing a lot more of her lately.

"Randy makes my pancakes with water and oil," Nic lifts a piece of one, strawberries soaking it red, "try it — it's good."

Joseph is sipping blankly from his coffee, in as much of a daze as he usually is come morning. He's not too impressed with Randy's coffee — and why he chooses to be present at all, I don't know.

"Try it!"

I glance out the window, past Joseph's larger frame. There's nothing but an empty road ahead of us, power lines sturdy against the wind. The bows Tobias' previously tied are long gone, Halloween jack-o-lanterns wilting from old age.

"Hm.  They're good!" Charlie-Anne chirps, "but I think it's just the strawberries." she laughs at that and tries to pass me a piece. I decline, stirring absently at my hot chocolate. I think to myself that it's good to have so much company and so many distractions.

My chest still feels heavy.

"No way." Nic protests, arms crossing playfully, "it's not the strawberries, trust me; it's the freedom from guilt that tastes so good — imagine eating something and thinking, wow? No animals suffered for this—"

"Oh my God, Nicolai. Just let the woman eat her pancakes."  Joseph grumbles, blinking tiredly. "Vegan vigilante."

"Take it back.  That's the lamest superhero name ever."

"Who said you were a superhero?  Oh, look at me — let's make everyone sad while they try to eat breakfast — Charlie-Anne," Annalise points towards her plate, "just eat your fuckin' pancakes. I'm gonna eat them if you don't."

Nic swats at her hand, and Charlie-Anne giggles.

"Enough nonsense."

"Enough nonsense."

"Are you two children?" Joseph frowns.

Annalise checks her watch,

"Nope, I'm an adult with an adult job, and I'm headin' out to work. Let me out." She taps her menu against Nic's face and receives a grunt in response,  "Move."

"Bring Joseph tonight," my brother whines, sliding from the booth gracelessly, "when are you two going to be normal friends that spend all their free time with me again?"

"You jackass," Joseph pulls a few dollar bills from his pocket and deposits them on the table for Annalise, "I'm enjoying my break from you draggin' me every which way for alcohol poisoning. Go back to school already and let me save money."

Nic pouts, but it's over the top in its disingenuousness. Annalise pauses, glancing back at the rest of us.

"Bye, Anna," Charlie-Anne says shyly, using water from her cup to wipe the syrup from her face, "you should totally come next time — I mean, next time we get pancakes."

"Yeah," I pipe up because I'm not sure how to wingman this friendship, "if you miss pancakes — while Nic is gone, we can be your pancake friends."

Nic snorts, and I kick him from under the table. It feels a bit more satisfying than it should.

"... Yeah," Annalise shrugs a bit, lifting her purse higher onto her shoulder. "ring me when you guys wanna go."

Charlie-Anne tries to play it cool — but when he turns, she grins widely behind her milkshake toppings.

Annalise turns next the exit and waves again.

--

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