#(well not YET...but hey. when Joyce gets to the bottom of this one she might need to borrow a certain someone's spiked bat)

[cherrydreamer]

(A little thing based on the angst fuel that is the lock on the outside of Billy's door.)

--

Joyce Byers is pretty used to trusting her instincts. Used to knowing that, when something feels off, then it probably is, no matter what anyone else tries to tell her.

And this? This definitely feels off. Wrong. Unsettling.

On the surface, there's nothing odd about it at all; it's just Neil Hargrove and his son walking into Melvalds. And while Joyce has never particularly warmed to Max's brother- all too aware of what he did to Steve Harrington on that night- she's not really had anything to do with Mr. Hargrove, nothing beyond the first, stilted greeting when they moved into the neighbourhood, or the handful of times she's seen him in passing as she's been ferrying Will to and fro.

So there's absolutely no reason she should be feeling so uncomfortable at the mere sight of him.

But she is.

Because there's something about the way Neil Hargrove has his fingers gripped tightly around Billy's shoulder that just isn't sitting right with her. A feeling that grows even stronger when Neil marches over to Joyce and says,

"My son has a question,"

Billy looks awkward. Uncomfortable. He squirms in his father's grip, looking small and unsure in a way that Joyce has never seen before, "Dad, I don't need to-"

"Ask her." There's a hidden warning in Neil's voice, a steely firmness that has Joyce on edge.

And Billy must sense it too. He seems to shrink even more, curling in on himself, as he asks, "Do you, um, do you sell locks? Like, uh, like door locks?"

And it's not the strangest question Joyce has ever been asked in her years of working retail, nowhere near, so she does her best to shake off that prickly feeling of unease, the one creeping right up the back of her neck, and puts on her best customer service smile, "Why sure, honey, we have a couple of different types. What exactly is it for?"

"I-uh-" Billy stammers, and Neil speaks quickly.

"Bathroom," he explains, "Billy's got himself a little DIY project, don't you, son?"

Billy nods. But he's not looking at Joyce. His eyes seem far away, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

"Sure," Joyce says, the prickle starting to feel more like an itch she desperately needs to scratch, "We should have something suitable. Normally I'd send you right on over to Hank's Hardware but he's closed at the moment, some family emergency, probably won't be back for another week or so."

"Nothing more important than family," Neil's cold smile doesn't reach his eyes, and Joyce can see his fingers moving a little closer to Billy's neck, "Nothing at all. And this isn't a project that can wait. In fact, I'd say it's been a long time coming."

Joyce just nods, not quite sure what to say in response. Instead she points them over to the hardware aisle, forcing out a cheery, "Just let me know if you need any more help," that she doesn't mean, before retreating back to the safety of her register, taking a few gulps of coffee in an attempt to drown out the sour clench of nausea that's starting to take root in her stomach.

--

They reappear about ten minutes later. Billy silently places a shiny latch bolt down on the counter, and Joyce's Midwestern politeness takes over, forcing her to make small talk despite the fact that she'd much rather be whizzing through this whole interaction as quickly as possible; hell, she'd much rather be hiding in the backroom and letting someone else take over the whole thing, but that's not an option.

So small talk it is.

"Ooh, good choice," she forces another bright smile, "I got the same one for the bathroom at home. Had it for years and it's not broken yet."

Billy lets out a non-committal mumble, already pulling out his wallet before Joyce has even read out the total, seemingly as eager to get this all over with as she is, but then Neil seizes on the opportunity, leaning into her space and grinning that cruel, shark-like smile again, tapping at the bolt with his finger.

"So it's strong?" he asks, "Sturdy? Not some shitty foreign import that's going to break the first time it's used?"

"No, uh, no, it's…it's good," Joyce's fingers hover over the buttons of her register, "It lasts. I've got two teenage boys so, believe me, I know how important a good lock can be."

Neil chuckles at that, and it's a mean sound that turns Joyce's stomach. He taps the lock again, his already cold grin becoming chilling, "Oh yes, well, I think Billy's certainly going to know the importance of this one, aren't you, son?"

And if Joyce thought something felt off before? Well, that was nothing compared to the feeling she gets the moment she notices the flash of fear in Billy's eyes, and the way his fingers shake, fumbling with his change as he tries to tip it into his wallet.

---

Joyce is still thinking about it long after they've left, unable to shake the image of Neil's hand gripping Billy's shoulder, steering him out of the store, while Billy's fingers clenched, white knuckled, around the bolt in his hand. She keeps thinking about the way that Billy had looked, the expression on his face. Scared, but resigned. Broken.

Something's not right there, she thinks, Really not right.

Joyce Byers has got a pretty damn good record of getting to the bottom of all kinds of things that weren't right. And it's looking like she's just found herself another one to investigate.

[yikesharringrove]

first off, i love you’re writing. like, i’ve probably read most of your fics on tumblr. second, i just came out as trans to my friends like a week ago, and now i’m wondering how joyce would react to one of the boys coming out as trans to her (i’m partial to FTM steve, but whatever you would want to write i’m sure would be great)

“Hey, Sweetheart, will you please come help me with these?”

Steve smiled at Joyce, coming to help her with the last of the dishes.

He had noticed that Joyce never referred to him by name. Always just called him sweetheart or honey or dear.

It was nice, not having to hear, that name.

He hadn’t come out officially, yet. But things were happening, he had cut his hair short and even started taping his chest.

“You know, Jonathan somehow just had another growth spurt. I don’t know how that boy has gotten so tall.” She had given Steve a rag to dry the dishes with. “He’s getting rid of a few bags of clothes. You know, if you can think of anyone who would want to look through it all.”

She was speaking way too casually.

“Umm, thank you, Mrs. Byers. I might know someone.” She smiled warmly at him.

“You can take the bags, if you’d like to, drop them off to them. Or, him. Take the bags to him.”

“Um, I think, I think he would really appreciate it.”

“Well, be sure to tell him that’s he’s welcome to anything in there. And that we all love him. You know, just in case he hasn’t been feeling enough love these days.”

Steve’s hands were shaking so badly he had to put the dish he had been drying down.

“I know that you know were talking about me, but I just, I need to say it.” She turned to face him fully, giving him her entire attention. Steve tried not to shrink under it.

“My name is Steve. I mean, that’s what I picked.” He looked down, scuffing his shoes on the floor. “Billy helped me.”

“Well, Steve, I really appreciate you telling me. I’m proud of you.” His bottom lip trembled.

She pulled him into a tight hug before any tears could spill.

“Sorry, uh, I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before.” She held him tighter.

“You deserve to hear it. I’m so proud of you, Steve.” She let him go, holding him at arm’s length. “You let me know if you need anything, okay? Even if it’s just a hug.”

He nodded, wiping at his face.

“I might take you up on that pretty often.” He gave her a watery smile, went back to drying the dishes.

“Please do.”

They both turned when there was a soft knock on the doorway.

Billy was standing there, looking sheepish.

“Could I, um, could I talk to, to,” Billy was always a mess when he had to use the wrong name to refer to Steve, tried to avoid it as much as he could.

“Sure, you can steal Steve away.” Billy visibly relaxed, blowing out a big breath.

“You told her?”

“She already knew.” Joyce snapped a dish towel playfully at Steve. “Offered me Jonathan’s old clothes before I could even say I’m a boy.”

“Call it mother’s intuition.”

[hartigays]

11 from the list plz Ps I love ur work

11. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

it’s been a slow day at family video - slow enough to make steve’s head practically throb from boredom.

he’s been tossing a superball at the ground over and over for the past hour, letting it rebound into his hand, not a customer in sight. robin is somewhere in the back, under the guise of needing to go through the returns, though it’s more likely that she’s taking a nap.

when the bell above the door jingles, steve doesn’t even look up at first. there’s not really any point - if the customer needs help finding something, they’ll ask. it isn’t until he hears a soft, flirtatious giggle that he looks up, his stomach dropping at the scene unfolding before him.

because it’s not just any annoying couple - it’s billy hargrove and some girl from high school that steve can’t for the life of him remember the name of, browsing through movies with sickeningly cute smiles on their faces.

steve’s billy. the one he’s been holding and kissing and fucking and loving for the last six months. the one he thought loved him back, because billy said so and steve was apparently dumb enough to believe him. so, like, what the fuck?

billy leans in close, whispering something in the girl’s ear that makes her giggle and blush again, and steve’s insides feel like they’re on fire. neither of them even notice that steve is there, watching them with an expression that can only be described as livid.

it isn’t until steve clears his throat that either of them look up. steve can see all the color drain from billy’s face at once. and yeah, steve gets it. he wasn’t even supposed to be working today, but keith had to be a little bitch about his sinus infection, so here steve is. covering for him and bearing witness to the worst possible situation he could’ve ever been presented with.

it’s pretty obvious that billy knew steve wasn’t supposed to be working today, based on the expression on his face. and, man, ain’t life a bitch?

steve can’t find it in himself to feel bad for billy. not when the fucker has seemingly been running around behind his back this whole time, lying about his feelings for steve. lying about the life he supposedly wants with him. so steve sets his jaw, plastering on a faux smile.

“welcome to family video,” steve says through gritted teeth, “let us know if you need help finding anything.”

the girl just nods eagerly, thanking him and continuing down the aisle, browsing the titles on the shelves before her.

billy doesn’t move at first, frozen in place, staring at steve with wide eyes. like a deer caught in the headlights, or a kid with its hand caught in the cookie jar. steve just stares right back, before ultimately deciding he doesn’t want to give billy the time of day.

not right now. not after this.

steve turns on his heel, making his way into the back. he has to curl his hands into fists to keep them from shaking, trying not to let angry tears spill over.

“hey, you okay?” robin asks when he walks into the room in the back, where they keep all their unshelved returns and new arrivals.

“no,” steve says honestly, leaning against the doorframe and rubbing his temples. “billy just came in. with a girl.”

“like, a girl girl?” robin asks. “not like, a cousin-girl? or like, a girl who maybe likes other girls-girl?”

“if that’s how he acts with his cousins or other lesbians, i’m a little concerned.”

robin gives him a sympathetic look. “well, maybe there’s an explanation. you should probably talk to him before deciding to launch yourself off the deep end.”

“what is there to talk about?” steve groans, burying his face in his hands. “he came here to pick out a video. with another girl. who he was flirting with. she was giggling, robin. like i’m gonna fuck you later giggling.”

“maybe they’re friends and she’s just a flirty type of person,” robin suggests. “you and plenty of girls have flirted with each other, but it didn’t always mean you guys wanted to go out or fuck each other, right?”

steve doesn’t get the chance to answer, because someone from the front rings the bell at the front counter. given that there are only two customers in the whole store, who came together, there’s only one guess as to who it might be.

he gives robin a pleading look. “can you take care of it? please?”

“of course,” robin says easily. she pats his arm before walking out of the room, disappearing out onto the main floor.

steve slides down the wall he’s leaning against, sinking onto the ground with a pitiful groan. like, steve can’t totally blame billy for running around behind his back. because girls? billy can take them out in public, can flirt with them and hold their hands and kiss them without anyone batting an eye.

he can’t do those things with steve. they’ve had to sneak around the entire time they’ve been dating, only robin and heather knowing the full extent of their relationship. steve thinks joyce and hopper might suspect, maybe even max, though they haven’t asked. but the bottom line is, steve and billy have had to hide.

billy doesn’t have to hide if he’s with a girl. steve thinks that’s maybe what hurts the most, knowing that he genuinely can’t blame billy for wanting to be with someone who doesn’t have to be his dirty little secret.

it’s just - steve loves him. he really does. and billy was the one who was worried in the first place that steve would want someone else after a while, not wanting to have to hide and lie and keep secrets, running around with the only gay guy in town. steve never would’ve thought that billy would be the one to get fed up and move on, leaving their relationship and everything they’ve shared together in a cloud of dust.

“the camaro wasn’t outside,” is the first thing robin says when she returns to the back room.

steve looks up at her, his brows furrowing in confusion. “maybe he left?”

“no, billy was still here. but the camaro wasn’t outside. doesn’t he usually drive when you guys hang out?” robin asks.

“uh, yeah. maybe he’s having car trouble and she drove?” steve suggests, his nose wrinkling.

because okay, yeah, billy would rather pull out his own teeth than ever let anyone else drive if given the option. so it’s a little weird. but it doesn’t mean that there’s not still something funky going on with billy and this girl, whoever she is.

robin shrugs. “dunno. just thought that was weird. just another reason for you to talk to him, instead of wallowing.”

steve doesn’t know how to answer that, so he doesn’t. he doesn’t have an answer for her when he locks up later that evening, or when he pulls up to his house, or when he flops onto the couch to pout into his takeout.

because steve doesn’t know if he wants to know what’s going on. what if he’s right? what if billy really is running off with someone else? with some nameless girl? or what if it’s something worse?

realistically, steve doesn’t know what could possibly be worse than billy abandoning him for someone else. but it’s the fact that there could be something. something that could break his heart even more than billy finding someone else to love.

there’s a knock on his front door and it pulls steve from his thoughts, putting a momentary pause on his stewing. there’s only one person that could be knocking on his door at this hour, and steve isn’t sure he’s ready to face him yet. but then there’s another knock, this one more insistent, and steve grunts as he shoves himself off the couch. he tosses his cold takeout onto the coffee table, forgotten.

“can we talk?” billy asks, the moment steve swings open the door.

steve just stares at him for a long moment, trying to get a read on his expression. billy just looks jittery and nervous, chewing on his lip and wringing his hands. steve can’t get anything more from him than that. so he steps aside, letting billy brush past him into the house.

“she doesn’t mean anything,” billy blurts, just after steve shuts the door. “sherry, i mean. she’s just- i can explain.”

“do i even want to know?” steve asks, folding his arms across his chest. he tries not to look too broken-hearted, not wanting to give billy the satisfaction.

“neil, he... i was trying to come see you today,” billy starts, shoving a hand through his hair. “heather was at the pool and she said you took keith’s shift. neil asked where i was going, and i... i fuckin’ told him the truth. i didn’t think he’d get suspicious over me going to pick up a few movies.”

an uneasy feeling starts to blossom in steve’s gut, not liking where this is going. “what’d he say?”

“that i didn’t- i don’t need to be looking like some faggot going to see the video store boy every other day,” billy says, sighing. “i had to lie. tell him i was getting a video for me and a girl. for a date. and he- he told me to call her. to bring her over for lunch and prove it.”

“why not just call heather though? i’m sure she would’ve been more than happy to help out,” steve says, his brows coming together in confusion.

billy moves to sink down onto the stairs, looking pointedly at his feet. “she had a church thing with her family or some shit. sherry was just- we were okay friends before we graduated. i figured she wouldn’t ask too many questions if i suddenly asked her out.

“steve, i swear to god,” billy continues, pressing his eyes with the heels of his palms, “i was just gonna do the fuckin’ lunch and be done with it. but he insisted on a movie. took us to get it and sat on the fuckin’ couch. watched it with us, too. at one point i thought he was gonna make us strip and walk us through how to fuck.”

steve makes a face. because, okay, he wouldn’t put any of that past neil. the guy is a fucking tool, and a creep. if steve has his way, neil would be rotting in jail cell by now.

but it’s not his life. he can’t make those decisions for billy.

steve sinks down onto the stairs next to billy, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “i thought... i thought maybe you didn’t want me anymore. didn’t want to be with me.”

“steve,” billy starts, then pauses. he doesn’t look at steve, but he takes one of his hands, squeezing it tightly. “i want to spend the rest of my life with you. i want out of here, away from him, with you. i just- i don’t know how to do that yet.”

putting an arm around billy, steve pulls him tightly against him, letting billy bury his face into his shoulder.

“we’ll figure it out,” steve promises, resting his chin on top of billy’s head. “together. ‘m sorry i thought you were- y’know. running off with someone else.”

billy just sits up a little, before pulling steve in for a gentle kiss. it’s nothing heated or frenzied, just a soft press of lips that has steve tingling all the way down to his toes.

“just promise me we never have to watch teen wolf again,” billy says when they break apart, his lips quirking up into a small smile.

steve can’t help but laugh, standing and pulling billy up from the stairs, tugging him towards the living room. ready to put on his rocky box set and help his boyfriend forget about this hell day, just for a little while.

“you got it, sweetheart.”

[barbarasbae]

Just a Taste-Suspicion

Part Five of Just a Taste 

Vampire!Billy Hargrove x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: smut, 18+

There wasn’t supposed to be smut in this chapter but then it felt too short so here we are. oops. The next chapter will probably be fairly short compared to the rest of them 

Also, I got my face fixed! My teeth no longer hurt and thankfully that means I’m a lot more motivated to do things (like writing. and unfortunately homework) 

The first time Chief Hopper gave any inclination he might be onto Billy was right before the Mind Flayer started to take control over Will. “There’s been some weird things happening lately away from the lab. Few dead cows, some girls showing up in the emergency room to get  stitches in their necks for animal bites. It’s died down recently, but what if it has to do with this.” He brought up at Joyce’s kitchen table, everyone involved in the incident last year coming together again to try and figure out what was going on. The kids looked at Y/n, knowing she had asked them about vampires a week earlier. She didn’t say anything. “Those are all weird, but it doesn’t necessarily have to deal with what’s happening with Will.” Nancy said, knowing the upside down tended to act more like a sickness than a monster (except for a few small animals that had been here or there). And it was dropped, Y/n not wanting to admit those most likely were vampires in favor of focusing on Will and helping him. Y/n didn’t actually see Billy for a few days, that is until they were supposed to go see a movie a town over and instead Y/n had to deal with upside down crap. She stayed with Steve and kids, heading to the restroom for just a minute. She heard yelling as she started washing her hands, the kids screaming about something. She flew out of the bathroom, grabbing the bat and came into the kitchen to find Billy on top of Steve, his eyes wild. Max acted much faster than Y/n could bring herself too and pushed the needle into his neck, the group watching him fall on the floor. “What the hell is happening?!” She yelled. “Y/n?” She heard Billy groan on the floor, the boy passing out a few seconds later. “He almost killed Steve!”

“I’m not supposed to be here.” Max admitted. Y/n whipped around to face her. The kids convinced her to let them go try to help, her helping them shove Steve in the back seat, Y/n staying behind with Billy, not knowing what would happen when he woke up. She tried to clean joyce’s kitchen while she waited, wiping up blood and keeping the walkie talkie as loud as she could. “Y/n?” Billy stood in the doorway. “What the hell did you do?!”

“What?”

“Why did you almost kill Steve?”

“I didn’t mean too. He-everyone’s hearts were so loud I couldn’t think.” She decided to not comment. He helped her, the lights suddenly growing unbearably bright. “What’s going on?”

“I have no idea.” They decided it was in their best interest to just leave the house, them sitting on the porch. “You need to apologize to Steve.” She told him, hugging her knees to his chest. He didn’t speak. Even though the lights dimmed back down, they stayed outside, the idea of the kids getting hurt tearing her up. So they waited. Billy put his jacket on her, her kicking a rock. “Do you still wanna go see that movie?” She shrugged and got up. “I’ll be back in a second.” She brought back a washcloth, wiping under his nose, then reaching for his hands. “Do you need a band-aid?” She asked. “I bet Joyce has some Transformers one.” A small smile painted on her face as she teased him. “Come ‘ere.” He said softly, digging in his jacket pockets. “Forgive me?” He asked, handing her a small box. “Depends.” 

She opened the black velvet box, finding a silver cross staring back at her. She looked up, a shit-eating grin on his face. She shoved his shoulder, laughing. “You’re an ass, Billy.” Was said with a smile. “I forgive you.” She said quietly. “If, and this is a big if, you apologize to Steve in the kids.”

“Okay okay.” Even with his promise, her fear lingered in the air, Billy almost killing Steve really scaring her. 

About twenty minutes later, the blue camaro pulled into the driveway, the entire house lit up. Steve cautiously walked in, the kids trailing behind. Billy took Steve aside and apologized, getting his keys back. “Maxine.” She left with him, Y/n getting Steve a new band-aid. 

A few weeks later, just after Christmas,  they were yet again sitting around Joyce’s table, discussing the thing with the cows again. “What if there’s vampires?” Dustin piped up, Dungeons and Dragons book in hand. “There are.” She said softly, thinking maybe they’d be able to help Billy. “Who?! How do you know?” She kept her mouth shut, the threat of Billy killing her still lingering in her mind even if she was starting to trust him a little more. She shrugged. “Come on, kid. Animals are dying. People could die.” Yeah, me. 

���Billy Hargrove.”

“What about him?”

“He’s a vampire.”

“How do you know?” Mike asked, very skeptical. She pulled her turtle neck down, revealing two perfect little puncture wounds. “He bit me.” She admitted. nervous about what might come next."Holy shit!” Dustin practically shrieked, jumping up.  “Language!” Steve barked, the kid sitting back down, grumbling. She was already regretting opening her mouth. “

“Do you think you can lure him?” 

“Where?”

She used Joyce’s phone to call the Hargrove house, Max actually talking once someone picked up. “Hi mom. I’m at Will’s house. My friend Y/n is gonna bring me home in about 20 minutes. Okay. Love you too.” 

Y/n and Max headed that way, Y/n walking Max to the door when they got there. Mrs. Hargrove opened the door. “Oh, Hi! Thank you so much for driving Maxine home.”

“Any time.” She smiled, seeing movement in the room closest to the door. “Is Billy here? I was hoping to talk to him for a minute.”

“Billy, sweetie, someone’s here to talk to you.” He came out of his room, smiling to see her on the porch. “Thanks Susan.”

He grabbed his jacket, stepping out onto the porch and pulling the door shut. “Hey.” 

“Hi. You wanna go to the quarry with me tomorrow night?”

“For what?” She shrugged. “Fun. I thought we could burgers from the diner or something and camp out. Do...stuff.” He laughed a little at the innuendo in her tone. “Sure.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll be back in an hour!” He yelled into the house, tugging boots on. “Where are you going?”

“Why wait tomorrow to do...stuff?” He winked, opening his car door. He drove to a dead spot about ten minutes from her house, pushing his seat back as far as he could. He patted his lap, her laughing and climbing over. She kissed his cheek, Billy sliding his hands under her sweater. “Take your coat off princess.” He said into the soft skin of her shoulder, nipping. She shrugged it off, it getting tossed in the backseat, her meeting his lips in a kiss, tongue poking his bottom lip. He gripped her waist, warm hands soothing in the cold winter. He reached behind her and turned his car off, her whining disapprovingly as the cold instantaneously began to seep into the car. “It’s too cold.” She protested, hands going for his buttons. “We’ll just have to fix that.” He said mischievously, popping the button of her jeans open. He trailed kisses down her neck, her humming approvingly as a finger found her clit. “Billy...” She moaned softly, fingers slipping inside her, her rolling her hips against his hand. She let out a broken moan, his fingers finding that special spongy spot and curling against them. “Ah, there we go.” He murmured approvingly, her gripping his shoulders and thrusting against the heel of his palm. “I’m-I wanna cum.” She whined in his ear, teeth catching on his earlobe. “So demanding, baby.” She reached between them and popped his buttons open. “Sorry...miss you.” She said, having not seen him since that night in November. “I missed you too. Drank an entire fucking cow dry the other day.” He complained, her hand slipping into his boxers. “Am I just food to you?”

“No. You’re delicious food.” She rolled her eyes, smiling. He pulled his hand out of her pants, telling her help him get her jeans off, which was a challenge in the small front seat. She pumped her hand over him a couple times, him lifting his hips to meet her movement. She accidentally touched the car door with her bare thigh, hissing. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No. Cold car door.” He sighed and turned his car back on, her still pumping her hand over him. She tucked her face in his neck. “Thank you.” She cooed, kissing his jaw. “Shit...” He moaned, hips jerking. She sat up more, gripping his shoulder to help keep balance, other hand going to line him up. He swatted her out of the way, doing it himself. She sunk down on him slowly, letting out a little huff, biting her lip. He wrapped his arm around her, his other hand gripping her thigh, no space between the two. Billy pumped up into her, her breath fanning across his neck, her pressing kisses to the column of his throat. “Faster.” She pleaded, kissing along his jaw up to his ear. She slipped a hand between the two of them, rubbing circles into her clit, his mouth finding purchase on the crook of her neck, sucking. She whimpered, feeling teeth poking against her skin, Billy replacing them with his tongue. She felt his groan vibrate against her throat, tipping her over the edge. “Frick.” She grunted coming. Billy stopped when she did, pulling back. “Frick?” He raised an eyebrow, laugh about to slip out. “Shut up!” She protested, starting to laugh as well. “I’m about to cum in you, and you say ‘Frick’? What, are you seven?” 

“Oh my god shut up!” She giggled, him pulling her back so that their bodies were once again fully touching. She moaned in his ear, feeling his thrusts getting faster, more desperate. She tugged on his curls on the back of his head, Billy thrusting sloppily, coming. He threw his head back, chest heaving, his buttons mostly undone. She leaned in, kissing under his ear before leaning in close. “Frick.”

“Get out of my car!” He groaned, her almost crying from laughter. 

[riftmeanewverse]

high school jopper from discord w/ @losingmagnetism

Sharing cigarettes with the one and only Jim Hopper under the bleachers at Hawkins High was the best activity. It was where she could be herself without being judged. Joyce was reckless-- but who would stop them? Not that they should've been doing that, but it was all fun and games until someone got hurt, or at least reprimanded at by the teachers. Of course, Joyce befriended Karen but they were practically opposites, just like Lonnie Byers. But Joyce Horowitz was her own person and she didn't care who thought differently.

It was between fifth and sixth period--- the normal time, the normal hide out. It was Winter, and yet they still hung out, no matter what. But it was colder than usual, which made Joyce shudder. She'd rushed out late this morning, which was unusual and forgot her coat. Lighting up a cigarette, she stood there, trying to keep warm.

Jim, known to all by his last name, Hopper, was no stranger to playing a little hooky. He charmed the teachers who would let him get away with it and managed to squeak by those who wouldn't. Even so, he kept his grades up well enough that his parents didn't notice anything was amiss. Not that he had to skip class to hang out under the bleachers, but if he happened to do so, well, no sweating the small stuff.

Today, he thought, maybe he could convince Joyce to stay a little longer than usual... Seeing her standing there without a coat, however, chased that thought from his mind for the moment.

"Hey, where's your coat? It's freezing out here!"

Joyce almost jumped at the voice, but she knew who it was. It was normal for her to be jumpy, a lot of the football players enjoyed teasing. She let out a harsh drag before looking back at Hopper. “I uh—- We ran late this morning and I left it at home. However, I-I’m fine.” Joyce tried to convince him with a small smile but her bottom lip quivered; covering it up as she took another drag. Winter made everything worse. Getting to school, focusing on the Holidays ahead, semester changes and anything and everything else.

She looked at Jim and passed him the cigarette after letting out yet another drag away. At least she had company in this cold.

“W-Where’s Chrissy Carpenter, huh? I thought she enjoyed following you around.”

He huffed out a breath of disbelief, not quite a laugh, though if she hadn't been shivering he might have. She was always so stubborn, wanting to do everything by herself, as if accepting a little help was admitting some kind of weakness on her part. Yeah, well, bodies didn't work on stubbornness. Taking the offered cigarette and wordlessly placing it between his lips, he shouldered out of his own coat and draped it over her. There was no one out here to see.

"Not jealous, are you?" he asked with a smirk, taking a drag on the cigarette and blowing it out slowly. Joyce Horowitz, jealous of some girl he was with? The idea was laughable, and yet... he almost hoped it was true. 

Joyce was prone to being stubborn. Sometimes it got her in trouble and never did her any favours. However, when Hopper draped his coat over her shoulder, she was about to insist not to- but she quietly thanked him. He was sweet, most of the times and she was grateful to at least have someone around who she could tease. Pulling the coat closer, she grinned a bit, looking up at the taller figure in admiration. She almost didn’t realize the jealously leaving her lips.

“I—- No , pfft. Me, jealous? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hopper.” Okay, she was. Very much so. But she didn’t press on. It wasn’t her right too especially if they were together like people rumoured. For all she knew, they weren’t until he said something. Even then she wasn’t nosy until she forced a hand.

“I’m sure if she saw me with your coat she’d be jealous.” Joyce shrugged and ran a hand through her bangs to now avoid eye contact.

He laughed, inwardly a little pleased that she was so bad at lying. They'd been friends for years now and people always asked why they didn't just date if they were so close already. But Joyce was practically his best friend. He didn't want to ruin that. Besides, she'd think it was weird, wouldn't she?

He took another puff on the cigarette and then handed it back to her, the smoke flowing out of his mouth as he said, "Good, let her be. She's no fun, anyway. Not like you."

He bit his lip a little, looking off into the distance pointedly so as not to look at her face and see how she reacted to that little slip of the tongue. Best just to let it slide without acknowledging it...

to be continued :P

[toomanyfeelings5]

the definitive ranking of pulp! the classics covers and summaries, from worst to best

(Note: Pride and Prejudice was not included in this list, as there were only poster and greeting card options for the work, and not an actual book or summary. Had a book and summary been provided, it would have ranked lowest for unoriginality. It’s literally just 1995 Colin Firth staring moodily at you. The caption is “Lock Up Your Daughters...Darcy’s in Town!” which is just unfortunate, frankly, and honestly laughable.) 

16. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte 

You take a novel that’s positively overflowing with drama and give it THIS cover? THIS summary? Absolutely uninspired. 

Here’s looking at you Cathy...

Childhood sweethearts turned star-crossed lovers, fuelled by bitter jealousy and dark revenge. She’s pretty and posh, he’s a moody brooding bastard. Heartbreak, alcoholism and plenty of illegitimate kids – it’s a perfect Northern drama.

Where is the feeling? The screaming violins playing as we read? The moors? The time skips? A hint of the positively bonkers plot that only a Bronte could compose?

15. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde 

 Oh, the heterosexuality of it all. On an Oscar Wilde novel, no less. 

Hey girl...I’d sell my soul for you!” 

Dorian Gray might be as pretty as a picture, but he's paid a devilishly high price for it. He'll stay drop-dead gorgeous, but there's something nasty festering in the attic...

Pretty as a picture and still lusting after ladies? Please. Pulp! Classics, you can do better. 

14. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald 

Again, we must speak the ancient chant: Oh, the heterosexuality of it all. 

When it came to loving...He knew which Daisy to pick! 

Sorry old sport, but Gatsby has a bigger house than you, prettier friends than you and a Rolls Royce to cart them all round in. To a backdrop of popping champagne corks and orchestral jazz, our hero bids to buyout his old adversary, perennial jock, Tom Buchanan and reclaim Daisy, his favourite bit of High Society totty.

Nick Carraway gets not one mention, which is odd given that he’s the narrator, the protagonist, and Gatsby’s most ardent love interest. Also strange is the cover’s insistence that Jordan Baker, known lesbian, would swoon over Gatsby. Doubly strange is how tiny the women are in comparison to Gatsby’s massive frame. What is, again, bamboozling, is how the slogan on the cover seems to imply that Gatsby knows how to pick a woman. He doesn’t know how to choose anyone, let alone love them. All Gatsby truly knows is the desperate pursuit of a fruitless dream. 

13. Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare 

Romeo looks like he could be Juliet’s father. Juliet looks like an Upper East Side Widow, not at all like the tween girl she really is.

Too wild to live...too young to die!

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou…. Oh wait, he’s hanging around in the garden again. Will young Romeo and his Juliet ever be able to express their raging hormones? Or will their feuding families make this romance blossom into a poisoned flower? Either way, both their houses are totally plagued!

“Wherefore” means “why,” not “where,” though I do have to award points to the summary for placing the blame squarely on the feud and not on these doomed young lovers. Though again, young isn’t the operative word I’d use to describe this version of Romeo and Juliet. 

12. Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe 

This is what one would expect upon seeing a pulp cover of a classic novel. Not much originality or flair is present, but at least some sense of the story is conveyed. 

Solitude was driving him nuts!

Cannibals! Captives! Coconuts!

One man’s love of the sea leaves him stranded on a desert island with nothing but a few goats, a bible and a parrot for company.

Will he ever escape? Will his new pal Friday learn to efficiently press a goatskin jerkin? Or will solitude send him totally barmy?

WILL Friday learn to efficiently press a goatskin jerkin? One must read to find out, I suppose...

11. Tess of the D'urbervilles 

Marilyn Monroe?????

She’s...no angel.

The original Wessex girl!

Tess is just a humble milkmaid when the local landowner has his wicked way. Her new beau, the smarmy Angel Clare, is none too pleased when he finds out she’s already been deflowered. What is a girl to do? Bloody revenge of course, and an ending to touch the hardest of hearts.

At least the summary blames the terrible men in Tess’s life rather than Tess herself, unlike the tagline on the cover. And while Marilyn Monroe seductively lounging about with a drink doesn’t recall the faintest essence of Hardy’s novel, one would like to imagine Tess relaxing in whatever clothes she pleased, a straw dangling out of her drink, a smile on her face as she answers to no one and spends her quiet evening in solitude. 

10. Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome

An innocuous cover; the men’s faces hint at the comedic nature of this novel, and yet...something nags the brain upon looking at this.

To say nothing of the dog...

Incompetence, embarrassment and general disaster - no it’s not PMQs, it’s a trip down the Thames! Three hapless fellows and a world weary dog decide they need a holiday from their exhausting hypochondria. Hilarious mayhem ensues.

To say nothing of the dog indeed: Why does the dog on the cover have a human face?

9. The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka 

All one can say upon viewing this cover is: Jeff Goldblum, is that you?

Change really BUGGED him! 

Poor old Gregor. One day he's depressed about his dreary travelling salesman gig, the next, he's roaching around the apartment and disgusting his family. All that's left is creeping the walls and eating garbage. How's his sis ever going to find a sugar daddy with her grotty bro in tow?

Gregor isn’t grotty, he’s our six-legged hero in this tragic tale. 

And yet in the end, the question that haunts us all echoes in our minds in an unceasing echo: is that Jeff Goldblum? 

8.  Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland 

Alice as a hippie is eye-catching, but not particularly creative. 

This cupcake was off her head!

What HAS happened to little Alice? Taking 'shrooms, hanging out with hookah smoking ne'er-do-wells and being dragged to court. That's gonna be one hell of a hangover!

As much as I’m intrigued by Alice wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and a peace sign necklace, the summary and the cover consist of one joke and one joke only. 

7. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 

I just like how Dr. Jekyll in this cover looks equally as fucked up as Mr. Hyde. 

No more Mr. Nice Guy... There’s a sinister man about London town with something of the night about him. Mr Hyde is mad, bad and has a penchant for bumping off MPs and other kindly innocents. Will his friend Dr Jekyll be able to stop him? Or is there something more to their relationship than meets the eye…? Only the intrepid Utterson can get to the bottom of this mystery, but what will he find in Dr Jekyll’s lab?

Points to this summary for including Mr. Utterson, and for insinuating that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde may be clandestine lovers. 

6. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens 

Ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise, don’t we love it when a greedy rich man gets bludgeoned by a mace into being more generous and kindly towards others?

This cat was a drag....’til a midnight wake-up call...

Christmas?! What a load of Humbug. Mistletoe and Wine just don't do it for Scrooge; he's a workaholic miser with an attitude problem. If he doesn't change his ways, he'll end up with no friends and Tiny Tim won't last the year. Let's hope some spooky night-time visitors can put the jingle back in his bells!

Ring-a-ling-a-ling, Mr. Scrooge. The mace is raised and the bells are ringing.

5.  Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad 

The tag-line made me, as the youths say, laugh out loud. 

Whoops! Apocalypse....

The horror! The horror!

Kurtz might be the apple of every brutish imperialist’s eye, but his God complex is getting wildly out of hand in the depths of the jungle. What on earth will Marlow find when he finally gets downriver? Devil worship? Savages? Heads on sticks? Or just another nutty white man with his knickers in a twist?

Surprisingly anti-racist summary made this jump to the higher echelons of this esteemed list, though of course that doesn’t excuse this novel’s abhorrent and embarrassing fake-deep racism. It also must be noted that the tag-line should have been “Whoops! White supremacy!” and the text of the novel should have entirely consisted of Chinua Achebe’s essay on the work. 

4. The Hounds of Baskerville by Arthur Conan Doyle

The cover alone is a winner. A rabid chihuahua out for blood? Inspired. 

Murder...Mystery...Walkies!

A desolate moor, a diabolical dog in need of a muzzle and some inbred locals; Sherlock Holmes is really up against it. With the help of his trusty sidekick Dr. Watson, Holmes pieces together a mystery that has captured the imagination of readers across the decades. All whilst practising a serious coffee and cocaine habit.

The tag-line is fun and catchy, but sadly this summary must be admonished for insisting that Dr. Watson is merely a “trusty sidekick” to Sherlock Holmes. Heterosexuality strikes again, reducing the impact of the striking cover design. 

3. Dubliners by James Joyce 

Finally! Some style, some panache, some flair to accompany these short stories about being sad and horny in Ireland. 

Stuck in the Liffey with you...

Booze, Sex and Hot Floury Potatoes… Those Dubliners are at it again!

Liars, thieves, whores and priests… James Joyce sure knew how to throw a party! This relentlessly downbeat collection explores the very worst aspects of human nature, and doesn’t leave out the juicy bits. It might not be in the best possible taste, but who doesn’t want to get down and dirty in Dublin?

The summary and cover work in tandem to wholeheartedly convince me that Dubliners is an action-packed, slick collection of stories detailing the wild escapades of a motley cast of ragamuffins, and I gotta hand it to the folks over at Pulp! Classics for injecting some bonafide vintage cool into Joyce’s work.

2. Othello by William Shakespeare 

I have so many thoughts on this. Mr. T. as Othello is fascinating, as is the tagline, “Some kind of Bard...aaaaasss.” Is this a commentary on blaxploitation media? One can’t help but recall Mr. T.’s reasoning behind his mohawk, his gold chains, to honor his ancestors and assert his living, unshakable humanity in a racist society. Is this is a genuine effort on the part of Pulp! Classics to imply that a blaxploitation-influenced adaptation of Othello could reveal deeper truths to the play that we have had yet to glimpse? 

Some kind of Bard... aaaasss

He’s a bardass brother with the love of a fine woman. That is until some cloven hoofed honky starts talking crazy about variously hued sheep tupping the hell outta each other! You gotta pity the fool who gets shafted by the green eyed monster. Let’s hope Othello can work out who to trust before it’s too late…

The fast-paced alliterative language of the summary harkens to Shakespeare’s own wit-fueled dialogue and penchant for creative language. The summary also calls Iago a devil, which is apt, and implicitly criticizes his racism, hinting at the play’s greater tragedies to come. The cover and summary also work in tandem to emphasize Othello’s jealousy and destruction: the “green-eyed monster” is mentioned, and the cover itself is a putrid green. An excellent example of what a vintage cover and summary can achieve. 

1. Frankenstein by Mary Shelly 

You all knew this was coming. 

This kid was born on the wrong side of the lab...

Frankenstein’s monster is on the rampage; terrorising the locals, unleashing murderous hell… and reading novels in his spare time. Can his petrified creator stop this reign of horror before his girlfriend gets the chop?

A James Dean-inspired creature, thereby making them a queer icon? Masterful. The creature being “born on the wrong side of the lab?” A stroke of genius; that they’re called a kid puts the poignancy of the monster’s plight into even greater relief, while simultaneously emphasizing their tragic charm. The clear distinction between Frankenstein and the creature? Reader, I exhaled in a cathartic release of tension. The loving detail that the creature reads novels in their spare time, like any other leather-jacket wearing, motorcycle-riding ruffian with a heart of gold? Beautiful. 

Truly, the obvious queer energy of this cover and summary highlights an overlooked dimension of Shelly’s great work while also paying homage to what draws us to this Modern Prometheus time after time. Do we care about the petrified creator in this summary? Not at all. He’s not on the cover, appearing both rebellious and gentle. We are here for the creature, in their leather jacket, on their motorcycle, novel sticking out of a back pocket on their jeans, ready to whisk us away to a place where even monsters like us can find solace, and be at peace, and commune with each other. We need only take their outstretched hand, and be willing to leave the mundane world for something better, for the chance to no longer be alone. 

[timehealsfanfictionbka]

Time Heals..... Chapter Five

“Mama, I can’t find my bathing suit,” Erica called out. Robyn huffed as she dropped the clothes she was folding into the open suitcase splayed on her bed and left into the girls’ bedroom. It looked as if a tornado had blew through the room, Robyn sighed, “What did y’all do to this room? I had all your clothes already picked out.”

“Erica did it,” Erin replied, “she didn’t look for her stuff like you told us the other day.”

“Tattletale,” Erica exclaimed as she tossed a pillow at her sister. Erin laughed and ran to hide behind Robyn.

“Erica, what did you do with your bathing suit last?” Robyn asked.

“I had put it with my clothes that needed to be washed and- Wait, I know where it is.”

Erica took off out the room and Robyn turned to her other daughter, “Erin, where is your suitcase?”

“In the living room where you told me to put it.”

“Did you go over the checklist to make sure you have everything?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Ok, did you eat your lunch?”

“Not yet.”

“Go ahead and eat and I’ll send your sister in once she finished packing.”

“Yes Mommy.”

Erin kissed Robyn’s cheek and left out of the room just as Erica walked back in.

“Did you find it?”

“Yes, it was in the dryer.”

Robyn chuckled a bit and playfully rubbed Erica’s hair, “next time you’ll listen when I tell you to gather all your clothes.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Finish packing then go eat lunch with your sister. We have to go to the store before Mama J comes to take us to the airport.”

“Ok, Mommy.”

Robyn went back to her bedroom to finish packing her own suitcase.

“Mama, are you serious right now?” Chris whined.

“Look, I would take her if I could but my car won’t start,” Joyce replied, “I can ask somebody else but there’s no guarantee they’ll be able to do it. You already told me you weren’t busy today.”

Chris huffed, “what time do I need to be there?”

“1 pm at the latest, her flight leaves at 4.”

“Ok.”

“Thank you, Sweetie.”

“Mom, you owe me.”

“She’s your best friend, get over it. Besides I’ll make your favorite sweet potato pie for compensation.”

Chris chuckled, “Ok Mama, call me when the mechanics get to your car so I can hear what they’re telling you.”

“Will do. Please let Robyn know I’m sorry.”

“I will, Mama.”

They hung up. Chris grabbed his car keys and left.

Robyn had just set the last suitcase at the bottom of the porch steps when she saw Chris’s SUV pull up. She frowned in confusion as he parked and climbed out and no one else followed, “Uh hey.”

“Hey, you ready?”

“For what?”

“Mama’s car isn’t starting so she asked me to take you to the airport.”

“Oh ok. I just gotta get the girls then we’ll be ready to go.”

“No problem, I’ll start putting these in the trunk for you.”

“Thanks.”

Robyn left back into the house, ‘Erin! Erica! It’s time to go!”

A few moments later, she heard two sets of feet coming down the stairs, “Do you have everything?”

“Yes Ma’am, “ they answer simultaneously.

“Alright, time to go.”

She ushered them out the front door and was pleasantly surprised when they ran over to hug Chris. She watched as he kneeled down to their height and gave them each a big hug.

“You girls look beautiful. You ready to go?” Chris asked with a smile.

“Uh huh. Mr. Chris, have you ever been to Barbados?” Erica asked.

“Your mom took me a long time ago.”

“Was it fun?”

“It was awesome. I’m pretty sure you girls are gonna love it especially if you like the beach.”

“We like the beach.”

“Then you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

“You wanna go with us?”

Chris chuckled, “Thank you for the offer but no thank you.”

“Well, you’re gonna miss all the fun.”

“You can tell me all about it when you get back.”

“Ok.”

Chris had started to speak when he noticed Robyn walking over. He stood up to his normal height and opened the back passenger door for the girls to climb into the car. Robyn handed both the girls their backpacks before closing the door. Chris leaned against the side of the car and Robyn gave him a raised brow, “No hello?”

“That would require me to like you.”

Chris glared at her and Robyn laughed, “You love messing with me, don’t you?”

“It is funny seeing that little furrow in your brow.”

Chris grabbed her into a hug and gently rocked her side to side before letting go, “How you been?”

“I’m good. Just working as usual. How are you?”

“I’m good. You’ve been dodging me and I don’t like it.”

“I am not dodging you. I’m just busy. You seem to have won the girls over.”

“Huh? Oh, we talked that day you left the girls with my mother to make cupcakes. They’re really great kids.”

“Thank you.”

“Definitely act like you.”

“I’ve heard that enough too.”

“How long you staying in Barbados?”

“About two weeks. My mom is probably going to want to talk to you now that we’re friends again.”

“That’s fine with me, I miss my second mommy.”

“I’m sure she misses you too. How’s the wife?”

“She’s good, the luncheon seemed to work because she’s been getting close to a couple people.”

“That’s great.”

“Why didn’t you come to the luncheon?”

“The rehearsal for the girls ran late so I couldn’t make it. Mama J said it was nice.”

“Yea. So you ready to go?”

“Yup.”

Chris held open the passenger door and Robyn climbed into the car. Chris closed the door and went to get in on the driver’s side of the car.

                                               ~~~~~~

“So….how’s it been?”

Robyn turned her head and chuckled as Leandra and Melissa came to sit next to her on the porch, “the only reason y’all are here is to be nosy.”

“That’s not true, “Leandra replied, “we missed our best friend.”

“You just want the tea, Leandra.”

“We can be here for both reasons,” Melissa interjected, “I’m still mad you told Big Mouth before you told me.”

“I didn’t even mean to tell her, it just kind of slipped out.”

“That’s a hell of a slip. So y’all fucking was the reason y’all stopped being friends?”

“We had sex the day before his wedding then he still got married as if nothing happened. You can’t tell me if that happened to you, things would just go back to normal.”

“No, I can’t say that. And y’all have never talked about it?”

“No. If we bring it up then we might have to address his wife about it, I don’t know.”

“You’d probably only have to address her if she finds out.”

“And how do you suppose she isn’t gonna find out? The only reason why no one has found out is because we both are just acting like it didn’t happen. I don’t know how else to handle this without it becoming a huge deal.”

“Robyn, you can’t be naive enough to think it’s not gonna come up at some point.”

“I’d rather wait until it comes up before I bring it up.”

“But who’s to say it’ll come up at a good time.”

“I don’t know but I really don’t wanna deal with it.”

A silence fell over the group of ladies before Leandra cleared her throat, “well since no one else is gonna say it, I will. Robyn, are you in love with Chris?”

Robyn frowned, “Am I what?”

“Are you in love with Chris? Do you have feelings for him still?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?’

“Very sure. I moved on 8 years ago and have no interest in looking back. We’re just friends.”

“Just friends who’ve had sex with each other.”

“Yes.”

“Robyn, this is gonna be messy.”

“Not as long as I can help it.”

Melissa and Leandra gave each other a look before lying down next to Robyn on the lounge chairs.

                                   ~~~~~~

“Hi, Mama Fenty!” Chris exclaimed as her face appeared on his phone screen. Monica smiled and waved. Chris was sitting in his living room when his phone rang and Robyn quickly handed the phone to her mother.

“How are you, Christopher?” Monica asked.

“I’m great. I missed you, Mama.”

“I missed you too, Sweetie. Where’s that wife of yours?”

“She’s around. Give me a minute to get her.

Chris set his phone down and went into the kitchen where Tiana was cleaning up, “Babe, come here real quick. I got somebody who wants to say hi to you.”

Tiana set down the dishcloth and took Chris’s extended hand to follow him into the living room. They sat down on the couch and Chris picked up his phone, “here she is, Mama Fenty.”

“Hi Ms. Monica,” Tiana said shyly.

“Hi Tiana, how are you?” Monica replied.

“I’m great. How are you?”

“I’m good. How’s Texas treating you?”

“It’s ok.”

“Totally different world than Paris, huh?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Well, I just wanted to say hi, you can get back to what you were doing.”

“Ok, I was just cleaning up but have a nice day.”

“You too.”

Tiana kissed Chris’s cheek and left back into the kitchen. Chris smiled at Monica, “so how is everybody?”

“They’re good. I wish I would’ve known when you were coming back, we would’ve come to the party.”

“I’m surprised my mother didn’t tell you.”

“It actually never came up in conversation. We still thought you were active duty so we didn’t really bother to ask. What happened?”

“I got injured. Shattered my kneecap.”

“Oh my god. Are you ok?”

“I’m good. My knee is pretty much metal but other than that I’m great.”

“Oh ok. So when you coming to visit?”

“Now you know, all I need is an invitation.”

Monica chuckled, “You could’ve come with Anna this time.”

“Nah besides the short notice wasn’t gonna work for me.”

“That’s understandable. You gotta promise to come visit, I’m sure everybody would like to see you and we don’t get back to the states too often.”

“I’d love that. I’d have to find out about my job’s rules with taking leave and let you know when we can make it.”

“Well if not this year, definitely next year for crop over. Our family reunion will be then next year.”

“Oh, then I definitely have to be there.”

“Good. You wanna speak to Robyn?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Alright, give me a second.”

Chris’s view was the high ceilings for a moment before Robyn’s face filled the screen, “Hey Bajan Girl.”

Robyn giggled, “I haven’t heard that nickname in a while. How are you?”

“Good. I miss you, Best Friend.”

“Boy please, it’s been like 3 days.”

“Feels like forever,” Chris said with an exaggerated pout.

Robyn laughed and ran her fingers through her hair, “Christopher, stop being silly. What’s up?”

“Nothing. You didn’t even say hi before you gave the phone to Mama Fenty.”

“Well, I called because she wanted to talk to you.”

“Still could’ve said hello.”

Robyn rolled her eyes and Chris laughed, “You are annoying, you know that.”

“Yea but you love me.”

“Whatever.��

“Didn’t deny it.”

“Shut up.”

“Where’s my little friends?”

“At the beach with my brothers.”

“They like it there?”

“They love it.”

“Did your husband ever get to Barbados?”

“We were supposed to go after we got married but we never really made it. The girls were just born, he was sick and the timing just wasn’t right.”

“When’s the last time you were there?”

“The girls were about 18 months, I left to get myself together once Michael passed. My mom figured I needed to be around family and help with the girls after something like that.”

“That’s understandable. I wish we would’ve stayed in touch, I missed a lot.”

“You know, things happen but we’ve gotten it together somewhat.”

“Are we ever gonna talk about everything?”

Robyn sighed, “Depends on what everything entails.”

“We can’t avoid that topic forever.”

“No, but I don’t really think it’s relevant to our friendship right now. We’ve both moved on, why go digging up what’s gone and buried?”

“I guess.”

“Look, if it starts to affect now we’ll talk about it, but I’d rather leave it where it is.”

“It’s not a flat-out no so I can deal with that.”

Robyn giggled, “How’s the wife?”

“She’s good. Mama Fenty spoke to her.”

“I know. I was sitting beside her.”

“Oh ok. So when are we gonna hang out?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“I’m not the one who has children though.”

“Just give a date, I’ll let you know whether I can go or not then I’ll give you an alternative date.”

“Ok. So what you wanna do?”

“I don’t know. Nothing too serious though.”

“We could go bowling like we used to.”

“Would you wanna go out in Houston or in Dallas?”

“I mean I could come to Dallas since it’d be easier for you to get home to your girls unless you wanna leave them at my mother’s house.”

“You love volunteering your mother to babysit.”

Chris laughed, “She’d jump for joy if you let her babysit. Hell, I ain’t got no kids for her to babysit and my nephew is too old to be babysat.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s gonna want to babysit, maybe she has something to do.”

Chris scoffed and Robyn laughed, “you are such an ass.”

“I’m just trying to hang out with my best friend.”

“I guess but you have to ask Mama J first.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. What you up to?”

“Nothing. Just relaxing. Mel and Lele were here earlier but they left already.”

“Cool. How are they?”

“Good. Messy but that’s normal.”

Chris laughed, “true.”

Tiana frowned a bit as she listened to Chris and Robyn’s conversation. They had been married for years but she had never heard that level of comfort in his voice. It’s like their eight years apart just vanished into nothing. She was happy he got his friend back but she couldn’t deny that she felt a little uncomfortable with their closeness.

“So…do you need me to get y’all from the airport or is Mama J picking you up?”

“I told her to just bring my car to the airport and I’ll drive home from there. I’m not trying to have anyone go out of their way.”

“Is that really easier?”

“Yea because she’ll have to drive all the way to Dallas then back to Houston when I can just go straight home from the airport. She said she has some kind of meeting over by my house so she’ll pick up and drop my car off  the day before my flight comes in.”

“Oh ok.”

“Thanks for the offer though.”

“No problem.”

“So what you up to for the day?”

“Nothing really. What about you?”

“Just relaxing. Once we get back to Dallas, it’s gonna be non-stop.”

“Got a lot of plans?”

“I gotta get the girls ready to start school again, they’re growing overnight and it’s ridiculous.”

Chris chuckled, “I mean you weren’t exactly short when we were growing up.”

“That doesn’t make it any better. I gotta buy new shoes, clothes, it’s just a lot.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Did you ever talk to your wife about the kids situation?”

“No change on the decision but it is what it is.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool.”

“Well, I’m supposed to be helping Mama Fenty cook before everybody else gets home so I gotta go.”

“Save me a plate.”

Robyn chuckled, “I’ll try my best but no guarantee.”

“Ok Bajan Girl, I’ll talk to you later. Be safe.”

“Will do. Later.”

They hung up.

[ourgreatconcavity]

My One-Act Play

Written for my Playwriting class during my senior year of college, fall semester.

                                                          Have it Your Way

                                               (Lights rise on a  deserted café. MICKEY is sitting at a table alone, taking occasional sips of his coffee. He is dressed in khakis and a  sweater with a dress shirt underneath. His demeanor is calm. LOUIS then enters the café, and sees MICKEY sitting. LOUIS, wearing jeans and a sweater with a hat, rushes over to the table and  takes the chair across from MICKEY.)

                                                                       LOUIS

Hey, Mickey.

                                                                         MICKEY

Morning, Louis.

                                                                         LOUIS

I flew out to see you as fast as I could.

                                                                         MICKEY

I see that.

                                                                       LOUIS

How have you been? Sometimes I still don't believe that Dad is gone.

                                                                         MICKEY

                                                           (A beat.)

I’ve been better. 

                                                                         LOUIS

You should try keeping busy, keeps your mind off things. 

                                                                         MICKEY

Yeah... 

(MICKEY looks immensely uncomfortable, while LOUIS  looks somber, staring into nothingness.)  

                                                                         LOUIS

I haven’t seen you in forever.

                                                                       MICKEY

Yeah, it’s been a while.

                                                                          LOUIS

What have you been up to?

                                                                         MICKEY

                                                           (Agitated.)

I don’t know. Nothing?

                                                                         LOUIS

Come on, you have to be up to something. You can’t be doing nothing for twenty years, and don’t say you’re doing nothing now; I can see your shoulders going up and down; you’re breathing, for one. Blinking, too, for another.

                                                                         MICKEY

I mean, I've been depressed lately, but there isn't much to talk about. It's been hard.

                                                 (There is a real struggle for conversation. MICKEY is constantly touching his face and running his fingers through his hair, anxious.  LOUIS fidgets in his seat and keeps itching the back of his head. MICKEY looks at LOUIS and his outfit, eyeing him up and down.)

                                                                         MICKEY

People are becoming more top-heavy it seems. Large sizes on top, and like, chicken legs or poles on the bottom. It’s like those huts built over water in the east; those skinny poles holding up so much weight, the tide teasing its power and destruction. 

                                                                         LOUIS

Bro, have you looked in the mirror? Better yet, have you looked down? Everything on you is slim-fit when really, you need Slim-Fast.

                                                                         MICKEY

I make it work. I do just enough exercise to fit in these outfits. I have it all worked out measurement wise. Like, if I have a medium fry at McDonald’s, I’ll have to do one hundred and fifty crunches to work out the fat. 

                                                                         LOUIS

I’m guessing you’re the type of guy who only eats the top half of a Big Mac, too. 

                                                                         MICKEY

...You’re not wrong. 

                                                                         LOUIS

Do you eat all the scraps of lettuce that fall out too? 

                                                                         MICKEY

Alright, now you’re going too far. I’m not going to tell you if you’re right or wrong; I’ll leave it ambiguous. Let’s just say I count every little sliver.

                                                                         LOUIS

Lettuce is the most nutritionally devoid vegetable besides celery. It’s like the Styrofoam you get in a package, just fluffs it up but has no singular, meaningful purpose. It's just texture… set decoration. Yet everyone always gets it on their sandwich! You know one time, when I was a kid, I saw a giant head of lettuce in the fridge. I told Mom to make me a sandwich with just lettuce, like literally, white bread and lettuce. I cried after a few bites because I thought my taste buds died. 

                                                                         MICKEY

Well, um… that's good to hear?

                                                                                     (A beat.)

                                                                       LOUIS

So, how's Diane doing with the loss? I know her and Dad were close, conjoined at the hip almost. She blocked my number awhile ago; haven't been able to get in contact.

                                                                         MICKEY

Did you say something?

                                                                         LOUIS

Yeah, about the family.

                                                                         MICKEY

Have you ever tried a Big Mac with tomato? You remember the jingle, right? Imagine the jingle with three extra syllables in the Big Mac melody; it would not fit. You might as well use an actual leaf of lettuce if you’re going to do that. And then if you use a leaf of lettuce, you’ll have to add those syllables into the melody, and then you get like an extra bar of music, and then McDonald's would have to pay the studio musicians more because of that extra bar, and then if they did have that extra bar, then everyone remembers the jingle with that extra bar, and it’s a whole calamity, like an alternate timeline. The question itself of a Big Mac with tomato makes no sense. 

                                                                         LOUIS

Extra, extra, extra. So much extra, you really are. Well, since we're on the topic of extra, what about extra sauce?

                                                                         MICKEY

The sauce is already on there, no need to add that to the jingle. Besides, the ‘correct amount of sauce’ is at the cook's discretion. For the very brief yet painful three months I worked there, each Big Mac I made had a specific number of fluid ounces of Mac Sauce.

                                                                         LOUIS

What's the magic number?

                                                                         MICKEY

Ain't important. You don't need to know.

                                                                         LOUIS

                                               (Feigned frustration.)

Well that's some bullshit. 

                                                                                   (A beat.)

                                                                         LOUIS

I haven't been able to get a hold of Mom yet. I don't know if she has gotten the will yet or --

                                                                       MICKEY

                                                           (Slams fist on the table, screaming.)

Don't change the subject!

                                                                         LOUIS

                                                           (Exasperated.)

Oh, um… I just wanted to know---

                                                                         MICKEY

The bun... give me your opinion on the bun.

                                                                       LOUIS

But what about the famil-

                                                                         MICKEY

                                                           (Slams fist on table.)

No! Now tell me…

                                                           (A beat.) What do you think about the bun…?

                                                                       LOUIS

                                                           (Confused.)

I don't know… I think it's fine?

                                                                       MICKEY

Well, which bun are you talking about? For their 'Artisan Sandwiches' they use different buns than for their Quarter Pounders, and the buns for their Quarter Pounders are different than the buns they use for their Big Macs.

                                                                         LOUIS

                                                           (A beat.)

Big Mac. I think it works well for the sandwich?

                                                                          MICKEY

Well, it’s just a sesame seed bun. Notice the alliteration there: sesame seed. It’s like Mr. McDonald himself named that bun sesame seed so he could have some alliteration in his jingle. A true literary great. Even Joyce wouldn’t have that thought. 

                                                                       LOUIS

I’m sure Joyce would be a Burger King guy; he’s the type to have it his way. Pynchon, too. Faulkner would be Subway, Steinbeck: In-n-Out Burger, or maybe a winery in Silas. 

                                                                         MICKEY

What about Kafka? 

                                                                         LOUIS                                                                        

Hmmm. He’s a burger guy, but I don’t know where in particular. I feel no matter where he goes, the place would close due to an insect infestation. Or it would be a madhouse in there, like the DMV. 

                                                                         MICKEY                                

Who else?

                                                                         LOUIS

Maybe Cormac McCarthy... I could see him ordering a burger here, asking for it prepared like ‘the evening redness in the burger’, and he would probably get mad because the cashier taking his order only reads postmodern literature, and has no idea what Southern Gothic is, like he probably thinks it’s like a category at Party City for Halloween costumes. And when Mr. McCarthy gets his burger, the same as it's cooked for everyone else, McCarthy would complain fiercely in poetic anger, and the employee would tell McCarthy to hit the road, which is ironic because that’s a book by McCarthy, and also a popular phrase, AND also funny because the cashier wouldn’t know he’s making a literary reference to a book he knows nothing about.

                                                                         MICKEY

I think you're talking out of your ass.

                                                                         LOUIS                                                                          

What about a McDonald’s McCarthy Mac’n’Milkshake? 

                                                                         MICKEY        

That’s wrong on two levels.

                                                                         LOUIS            

Care to elaborate?

                                                                         MICKEY

I know for a fact McCarthy would not order a Mac and a shake – it would be a Mac and a Sprite, no ice. Second, McDonald's cannot call their shakes ‘milkshakes’ - they don’t have any actual milk in it. Haven’t you seen the commercials or the posters? No suspicion on why they don’t use MILK in the typical phrase that comes to mind, MILKSHAKE? 

                                                                         LOUIS

I guess you’re right. You’re a whiz when it comes to McDonald’s.

                                                                       MICKEY

They always bitched at me because I ate all the food that fell on the ground. They were really against that, like, reallllllly against it.

                                                                         LOUIS

Yeah, I bet. Listen, have you been in contact with any of the family at all?

                                                                         MICKEY

There was one time I almost bit my manager’s hand off. It was bad. It was the end of the night, and we were closing. We had some extra food, and I had been craving some nuggets, like really intense cravings, pregnancy style, like -- I wanted to mix sauce with sauce and apply it to the meat. Well, my manager takes all the nuggets, and all the sauces, and locks himself in the office, and it wasn’t even his office, it was the actual store managers office, and starts chompin’ away. Some people eat in their offices; well he was masticating heavily and aggressively in that office. I barge in and break the lock, hungry and angry, and I see a nugget in his hand, a golden fried literal nugget of recently introduced one hundred percent all white meat chicken. I go for the bite, and end up getting some arm, seasoned lightly with hair. I can even taste the dried tattoo ink. He’s screaming, and in that second, I knew I was fired. All my hard work gone for one leftover ten piece. 

                                                                         LOUIS

Mickey, we need to talk about--

                                                                         MICKEY

Ask me how it was.

                                                                         LOUIS

                                                           (Sighs loudly.)

 Did it at least taste good? 

                                                                         MICKEY

I’m not a cannibal, the arm was terrible. 

                                                                         LOUIS

No, the nugget. 

                                                                         MICKEY

Oh, it was okay. Could have used more seasoning. It looked good enough, but when I ate it, it was just alright. 

                                                                         LOUIS

What a shame.

                                                                         MICKEY

I didn’t even get any sauce! No honey mustard, no buffalo, no sweet and sour!

                                                                         LOUIS

Did they ever charge you for extra sauce? 

                                                                          MICKEY

No, that was one of the benefits. They let you have two sauces instead of one. It really adds up when you order a twenty piece during your break every shift. Those fifty cents for the sauce came in handy for the bus fare. Now all it’s good for is lottery tickets. I swear I’m winning one of these days. I can feel it!

                                                                                     (A beat.)

                                                                       LOUIS

So, now that you've dodged the bullet long enough, when are we gonna start talking about the burial plans for Dad? Or the will?

                                                                         MICKEY

When you were younger, which Kids Meal toy was your favorite? I always liked the Hot Wheels ones.

                                                                       LOUIS

Stop! We have to talk about the family. Dad left us in a serious hole.

                                                                         MICKEY

I was always pissed when they wouldn't offer me the Mighty Kids meal when we would go in. I mean, they could see that I was pretty grown--

                                                                         LOUIS

Will you shut the fuck up and listen? I'm tired of beating around the bush. This is a serious subject!

                                                                         MICKEY

Well yeah, the toys for the Mighty Kids meals were different than for the regular Kid's Meals--

                                                                         LOUIS

You're in denial.

                                                                         MICKEY

No, I'm not.

                                                                          LOUIS

Don't you care about Dad? Don't you care about anything regarding this family? It's easier for you to talk about McDonald's than about our family?

                                                                         MICKEY

Are you serious right now?

                                                                         LOUIS

Yes, I'm serious! Now, you can either tell me if you've talked to the family, or you can just leave.

  (MICKEY gets up from his chair and pushes it in. LOUIS looks at him in astonishment.)

                                                                       LOUIS

Are you serious? Seriously, Mickey?

 (MICKEY walks off the set, and LOUIS sits at the table, dumbfounded.)

                                                                       LOUIS

Fine, Mickey. Have it your way.

                                                                       Blackout.

[hopeishappinessff]

Chapter 20

Ambling up the stairs to my room, I flung the door open and waited for Destani, Tameka, and Nalay to enter before closing the barrier behind them. After filling our bellies at the café, the girls decided to end the evening at my house and in my full and sluggish state I didn’t bother to argue. Destani lay sprawled comfortably across the span of my bed, while Tameka stood at my ipod dock flipping through the available playlists. Nalay sat across from me on the floor against an oversized teddy bear in the corner and I sat perched on the floor near the door, with a pre-calculus book flipped open in my lap.

“Sy I don’t understand why you won’t just tell us what the nigga said.” Destani complained after nearly five full minutes of silence. With an exasperated sigh, I rested my head against the wall behind me and shut my eyes “Dez… he just wanted to talk, that’s all.” “Well I know that, but what about? Was it just like a casual conversation or was the nigga trynna spit game?” She asked. Rolling my eyes, I chose to completely ignore her plethora of questions and instead gazed down at the book in my lap.

“Dez leave that girl alone. Always trying to get in somebody’s business… how about you get some of your own and get out of hers.” Nalay exclaimed. “Shut up Nay… I was just wondering, damn. I mean it’s not every day that we get to see Sy talking to niggas, so I’m just trynna make sure my baby girl knew what she was doing.” Destani retorted. “I knew what I was doing Destani… if I didn’t I don’t think he would have asked me to go on a date with him.” I mumbled and regretfully so… Destani’s eyes immediately lit up and she swiftly perked up from her position on the bed.

“What?” She blurted, extending her arm out and pointing her finger theatrically in my direction, “Did you hear what she just said? The nigga asked her out on a date!” “Girl what,” Tameka chimed in, turning to join the conversation, “Where ya’ll going?” With a shrug of my shoulders, I refocused my attention on my book “Oh it’s a surprise? Damn girl, this nigga is trynna show out… taking you on surprise dates and shit!” Destani exclaimed. “Girl I’m jealous. Can we say fancy? Shit, can I go?” Tameka replied, turning her attention back to the dock.

Before anyone could utter another word, the bedroom door flew open and I was forced to lean against the opposite wall to avoid being smacked in the face. “Hey Sy… where Sy’Diyah at?” The familiar masculine voice asked. “Well she was sitting by the door, until you swung it open like a freak of nature.” Destani retorted briskly. The door slowly eased away from my arm and I raised my gaze to meet the beaming bright copper stare of Chris “Shit, my bad. Can you come here for a minute?” He asked. I sighed while placing my book on the floor then stood to my full height “What Chris?” “Just come out here please.” He nearly begged.

“Nigga don’t come in here demanding nobody.” Tameka fussed, turning to face him with a hand placed on her hip. “Meka was I talking to your ghetto booty ass? No, so stay over there.” He responded and I quickly slipped out of the doorway behind him, hoping to prevent an argument between the two. Pulling the door shut behind me, I turned to stare up at Chris who gazed at me with obvious desperation “I need you to do me a really big favor.”

“Like What?” I asked, crossing my arms loosely over my chest. “I need you to come with me to my mama’s house and help me get some stuff before Ms. Joyce gets home.” He explained in a rushed tone. “Wait, what? Doesn’t she get off at six?” “Yeah, that’s why I need you to help me… like now.” “Chris,” I sighed, “Why don’t you just wait until she gets home and ask her if you can get some of your things then? Wouldn’t that be a lot easier than sneaking in, hoping she doesn’t pop up while you’re in there?”

Roving over the suggestion for only a moment, he nodded seemingly in agreement “No. I think that’s a terrible idea and I think we should do it now.” With yet another sigh, I dropped my arms dejectedly at my sides “Do you want me to get the girls to help?” “Yeah… yeah it’ll be easier with more hands.” I turned and stepped back into my room, only to find Tameka standing only a few feet away from the door with her arms crossed tightly over her chest and a scowl on her face “Where that yellow ass nigga at? Popping off at me like he lost his got damn mind. Chris, I know you standing in this hallway!”

“Yeah my yellow ass is standing in this hallway! What you talking shit for Meka, huh? I bet you won’t say that shit to my face!” He shouted over my shoulder through the threshold of the door. Moving forward to usher Tameka further into the room, I used my foot to push the door shut in his face and turned back to face the girls. “If you two could settle down for just a moment, Chris actually needs a favor from all of us. He’s asking if we can help him move some of his belongings out of his mom’s house.” I explained quickly.

“Move some belongings where? To that trollips house? Oh hell no!?” Destani fussed, maneuvering around to sit at the edge of my bed. “No Destani,” I said with a roll of my eyes, "He'll explain when we get to his moms.” I moved toward my closet to retrieve a pair of shoes and smiled discreetly as I listened to the girls shifting around my room, preparing themselves to assist with Chris’s devious plan.

--

We trailed along behind Chris as if we were indeed on the set of a spy thriller. We were all alert and on the lookout for his mom, as the time was rapidly nearing six and she'd be arriving home soon. He led us down a darkened hall toward his bedroom and stopped once he approached the door. Slowly pushing it open, he stepped inside and we all followed. “Aww… I always did love your room Charlie.” Destani cooed as we moved into the large and tidy space. His room had always reflected his personality perfectly. Chris had always been one to express himself through the arts and the four walls of his bedroom displayed his talent like an eclectic museum. From a few of his favorite musician’s hand drawn in charcoal on canvas frames, to several varieties of graffiti style paintings… his style was one of a kind and innovative.

“Alight, if ya’ll could just grab like clothes and shit like that. I don’t really wanna take furniture or anything major because knowing my mama… she might file a lawsuit against my ass for stealing her shit.” He explained, moving toward his closet to retrieve two large duffle bags. “Chris, I’m so lost… where are we taking this stuff?” Destani asked. “Dez, I’m moving aiight. My mama found out about the baby and now…” Pausing to inhale a gust of air and releasing it exasperatedly… he shook his head, clenched his jaw, and tossed the bags down on the floor, “Now I’m moving.”

The room immediately washed over with silence and I peered at Chris as he nibbled at the corner of his bottom lip. With her motherly instincts kicking into full gear, Nalay stepped into place beside Chris and leaned against him to embrace him in a comforting hug, “Aw Chris I’m sorry. Do you at least have a place to go?” “Yeah… I have an apartment now so um… that’s where we’re taking this stuff.” He replied. I quickly slipped out of the way as Destani, Tameka, and Nalay surrounded him with hugs and praises for getting on his feet that quickly. I watched with exhilaration as I contemplated how blessed I was to not only have Chris in my life, but to be able to witness his evolution and transformation over the span of time I’d known him. He’d morphed from an angry, resentful little boy to such a thriving and established young man.

I quickly snapped back to reality as the girls finally moved to load up some of his belongings. I scooped up one of the empty duffle bags on the floor and headed for his dresser infamous for housing his tanks and basketball shorts. “Damn nigga!” I whipped around at the sound of Destani’s loud voice. There she stood with her arm raised high, near his nightstand close to the head of the bed… with a dangling row of small, golden packages in her hand.

Her eyes danced from the small square objects she gripped in her hand down into the open drawer of his nightstand “Strawberry, coca-cola, glow in the dark, fire and ice, and let’s not forget…” She refocused her stare on the objects in her hand before turning her gaze to Chris with a mischievous smirk, “… magnum?” She turned suddenly to face Tameka who’d plopped onto his bed with mirth “You might wanna get up Meka… I’m pretty sure that’s where they conceived the baby.”

Tameka rushed forward and nearly catapulted off the surface of the bed, causing the room to erupt into laughter as Chris stood proudly staring at Destani with his own impish smirk. He sauntered toward her, tossing an arm loosely over her shoulder as he reached around and slipped the golden wrappers out of her grasp “Don’t act like you’ve never seen a condom before baby.” “I mean I have, but shit homeboy… all these options! And magnum… Babyboy, I ain’t know it was like that.” She played into his humor as she reached back into the drawer and fiddled with the plethora of wrappers inside.

“And for your information, if any conceiving really did go down… it was in my truck.” He murmured knowingly and we all continued to laugh. “Damn freak… aye, let me use some of these flavored and fire and ice ones for real though.” Tameka said, shifting toward the open drawer and lunging her hand inside. With a shake of his head, Chris squinted and stared at her with his head cocked to one side “Use them with who Meka?” She smacked her lips and rolled her eyes theatrically “Nigga don’t play. You know this milkshake brings all the boys to my yard. I have hoes okay!”

“Yeah and when they see that your yard ain’t been trimmed, I bet all the boys run away.” Chris’s expression remained somber as Destani, Nalay, and I cackled loudly and Tameka stared at him with her mouth hanging open. She scoffed and slapped him on the arm “Fuck you Chris.” “Oh yes love, we can certainly do that… I mean we got the condoms, the bed, and even a live audience. What else do we need?” He asked, seductively pushing up against her with forged lust in his eyes. Tameka stared at him blankly before bursting into a fit of laughter “Chris you a damn fool!” With a shake of his head and a smile, he reached for a half full bag resting near his feet.

We continued to stuff the bags and load up several of his belongings, and by about five forty-five… we were done. “Alright, so we can take all this down to my truck and then I’ll take it over there.” Chris said. “Why we can’t go?” Destani asked. “I mean ya’ll can. I just figured you’d be too tired.” He replied. “Nah, we straight. I’m trynna see yo new crib nigga!” Destani exclaimed. With a chuckle, he snatched a full duffle bag from the floor and tossed it over his shoulder “Cool. Let’s go.“

--

What I thought would be a peaceful and scenic journey to the apartment quickly morphed into a small festival in the confines of Chris’s truck. With Young Thug’s Lifestyle blasting through the speakers, Chris and Tameka had managed to start a boisterous dance and freestyle battle. By the time Chris pulled into the apartment complex, we were all trying to control our laughter at their antics.

“Nigga I won that… you know I won that!" Tameka argued as she climbed down out of the backseat and stood squinting up at Chris. “You know what… I’ll let you think that Meka, but everybody in this truck knows who won that shit.” He said with a sly smirk as he moved past her toward his trunk. “Okay Breezy, alright. How about this… you give me a damn time and a location and I got you. You don’t wanna see me in a legit battle.” She exclaimed. “Meka, baby let it go,” Destani said, placing a hand on Tameka’s shoulder, “I’m not even gonna lie… he schooled your ass and the bad part is, the nigga was driving.” “Shut up Dez… Chris,” Tameka turned to glare at Chris, “I got you.” He lifted his hands and motioned for her to ‘bring it’ and we all laughed.

Following him to the back of the truck, we each grabbed a handful of his belongings to carry up to his apartment. Misjudging her own strength, Destani ended up with one of the two heaviest duffle bags while Chris lugged the other. “Chris… nigga you better get this damn bag before I drop it!” She exclaimed, struggling down the hall toward the elevator. With a sigh, he slowed in his tracks and turned to relieve Destani of the bag. Pulling it up onto his vacant shoulder, he silently faced forward and moved with ease down the hall as if the bags were as light as feathers.

“Dez, why would you do him like that? Nobody even told your ass to grab that bag,” Nalay fussed,” Here, get some of this stuff. You’re not about to walk empty handed.” “Nah… I’m straight.” Destani said with a smile as she trekked along. “Destani…” Nalay retorted in a firm voice and with a defeated sigh, Destani turned to snatch a few items out of Nalay’s hands.

Within a few minutes, we’d finally made it up to the third floor of the building and we stood behind Chris as he unlocked the door of his apartment. Pushing the door open with his foot, he stepped aside and granted us access to the open door of the space. I smirked inwardly as I listened to the girls gasp with excitement as they all ventured inside. “Damn nigga… this shit is lit.” Tameka noted, being the first to step through the doorway. “I know right. This is dope as hell! I’m not gonna lie, I was expecting to walk into some little hole in the wall, but this bitch is bad!” Destani blurted candidly.

Chris rolled his eyes impishly and with a gratified smirk, he moved down the hall toward his bedroom. Already having a complete tour of the unit under my belt, I offered to show them around the place while Chris put his things away in his bedroom. The girls ooh’d and ahh’d as I introduced them to each room and once we crossed into the master suite, they quickly veered into the restroom to find Chris in the oversized closet.

“Bro, I might have to come over here just to use this fucking bathroom… this shit is like amazing!” Destani exclaimed and I couldn’t help but giggle. They wondered around the spacious area just as I had the first night he’d brought me over… like curious little kids. “Dez wait you turning it too far,” Chris voiced and within a few seconds, his tone quickly escalated, “Destani! Get the fuck outta the bathroom before you break this shit!” Rushing out into the bedroom, Destani made her way toward me with a deep scowl as she glanced back over her shoulder “Damn, somebody is on their period tonight.”

With a shake of my head, I couldn’t help but laugh at the expression she held “What did you do?” “I was just trynna turn the faucet on, but I ain’t know the water wasn’t on yet, so when it didn’t come on I continued to turn the little shit thinking maybe the handle was just reacting slow or something.” She explained. “Well maybe you just shouldn’t touch anything else.” I suggested with a smirk. “Not if king divo in there is gonna freak the hell out again.” She said, easing toward the door and out into the hall with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Nalay and Tameka eventually made their way back into the front room with Destani… leaving Chris and I alone in empty space. He stepped out of the restroom with his hands tucked away into his pockets and released a deep sigh “I swear I shoulda just left them at your house.” “What makes you think I wanted them at my house… alone… free to tamper with any and everything while I’m not there.” I asked with a tone full of humor. “I don’t know man… they just can’t be doing all that shit here. I mean, I just got the place… haven’t even done a walk through yet!” He fussed.

“Well don’t stress. I know it’s your first place, but don’t let little things get to you. You should be excited right now, not worrying about the small things.” I said softly. With a smirk, he moseyed toward me and pulled his hands from the confines of his pockets “You know, I think that’s why I keep you around.” “Why?” I asked, batting my lashes at him with my arms crossed as he eased his hands down to my hips. “Because you know just what to say to make a nigga feel better.” He whispered. He leaned forward to close the gap between us and within seconds his plump lips were devouring my own. I instinctively uncrossed my arms and snaked my hands up over his hardened chest toward his broad shoulders, kneading at his chiseled abdomen along the way. My ears suddenly perked at the sound of Tameka and Destani’s loud voices cascading down the hall and it felt as if my heart plummeted into my stomach at the thought of them witnessing us in such a compromising position.

Chris tugged seductively at my bottom lip with his teeth, pulling back slowly before letting go and swiping his tongue out over his lips. A few more delayed seconds and we were sure to have been caught in the act… Destani and Tameka both stood in the doorway laughing at their own conversation and staring directly at Chris, who now stood calmly with his hands tucked away into his pockets.

“We just thought we would come get your permission to answer the door because someone is knocking.” Destani said. “Oh… you can open it…,” He paused, staring through squinted orbs at Destani, “Meka, you can open it.” “Whatever nigga.” Destani muttered as she raised a middle finger toward him as Tameka cackled loudly. They turned to move back down hall, with Chris and I trailing closely behind. Tameka reached to open the door and we all crowded around to stare at the girl who stood on the other side. She held a plate of cookies wrapped neatly in saran wrap as she beamed at us brightly.

“Hi… I’m Daynah… wow do you all live here?” She asked as her eyes scanned over each of us. Her traveling orbs halted immediately once she reached Chris and she openly stared at him, roving her gaze over his lofty frame. Her grin seemed to double once her twinkling eyes reached his face “Well aren’t you a lucky guy? You get to live with all these girls… how fun.” “I’m Chris,” He said, stepping forward and sticking his hand out to greet her,” I’m actually the only one who lives here.”

“Oh… well that’s cool,” She stated with a grin that never faded as her eyes lingered on his large hand that gripped hers, “Oh, where are my manners… these are for you all.” She pushed the plate of cookies toward Chris with one hand, still clutching his hand with the other. “Uh, thanks.” He muttered. “Anytime… I just sort of like to give my new neighbors a small welcome gift when I introduce myself and what better way to do that than with a fresh batch of cookies?” She giggled.

“Well, it was nice to meet you all,” She said, gazing at everyone before fixing her twinkling eyes back on Chris, “It was nice to meet you as well. If you ever need anything, I’m just down the hall.” “Alright and um… you know, the same to you. I’ll be all moved in next week… if you ever need anything.” He said, showcasing his million-dollar smile. With a single nod and a beaming smile, she stepped backwards away from the door “Well I guess I’ll talk to you later.” He nodded and tossed a hand up at her as she finally turned and sauntered away. "Interesting neighbors you got here Chris." Destani noted amusingly as she pushed the door shut and turned to face a still grinning Chris...

[thatawkwardlittlefangirl]

ok, now part 2 where she beats him up 😏🙏 (and Steve helps)

(A little thing based on the angst fuel that is the lock on the outside of Billy's door.)

--

Joyce Byers is pretty used to trusting her instincts. Used to knowing that, when something feels off, then it probably is, no matter what anyone else tries to tell her.

And this? This definitely feels off. Wrong. Unsettling.

On the surface, there's nothing odd about it at all; it's just Neil Hargrove and his son walking into Melvalds. And while Joyce has never particularly warmed to Max's brother- all too aware of what he did to Steve Harrington on that night- she's not really had anything to do with Mr. Hargrove, nothing beyond the first, stilted greeting when they moved into the neighbourhood, or the handful of times she's seen him in passing as she's been ferrying Will to and fro.

So there's absolutely no reason she should be feeling so uncomfortable at the mere sight of him.

But she is.

Because there's something about the way Neil Hargrove has his fingers gripped tightly around Billy's shoulder that just isn't sitting right with her. A feeling that grows even stronger when Neil marches over to Joyce and says,

"My son has a question,"

Billy looks awkward. Uncomfortable. He squirms in his father's grip, looking small and unsure in a way that Joyce has never seen before, "Dad, I don't need to-"

"Ask her." There's a hidden warning in Neil's voice, a steely firmness that has Joyce on edge.

And Billy must sense it too. He seems to shrink even more, curling in on himself, as he asks, "Do you, um, do you sell locks? Like, uh, like door locks?"

And it's not the strangest question Joyce has ever been asked in her years of working retail, nowhere near, so she does her best to shake off that prickly feeling of unease, the one creeping right up the back of her neck, and puts on her best customer service smile, "Why sure, honey, we have a couple of different types. What exactly is it for?"

"I-uh-" Billy stammers, and Neil speaks quickly.

"Bathroom," he explains, "Billy's got himself a little DIY project, don't you, son?"

Billy nods. But he's not looking at Joyce. His eyes seem far away, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

"Sure," Joyce says, the prickle starting to feel more like an itch she desperately needs to scratch, "We should have something suitable. Normally I'd send you right on over to Hank's Hardware but he's closed at the moment, some family emergency, probably won't be back for another week or so."

"Nothing more important than family," Neil's cold smile doesn't reach his eyes, and Joyce can see his fingers moving a little closer to Billy's neck, "Nothing at all. And this isn't a project that can wait. In fact, I'd say it's been a long time coming."

Joyce just nods, not quite sure what to say in response. Instead she points them over to the hardware aisle, forcing out a cheery, "Just let me know if you need any more help," that she doesn't mean, before retreating back to the safety of her register, taking a few gulps of coffee in an attempt to drown out the sour clench of nausea that's starting to take root in her stomach.

--

They reappear about ten minutes later. Billy silently places a shiny latch bolt down on the counter, and Joyce's Midwestern politeness takes over, forcing her to make small talk despite the fact that she'd much rather be whizzing through this whole interaction as quickly as possible; hell, she'd much rather be hiding in the backroom and letting someone else take over the whole thing, but that's not an option.

So small talk it is.

"Ooh, good choice," she forces another bright smile, "I got the same one for the bathroom at home. Had it for years and it's not broken yet."

Billy lets out a non-committal mumble, already pulling out his wallet before Joyce has even read out the total, seemingly as eager to get this all over with as she is, but then Neil seizes on the opportunity, leaning into her space and grinning that cruel, shark-like smile again, tapping at the bolt with his finger.

"So it's strong?" he asks, "Sturdy? Not some shitty foreign import that's going to break the first time it's used?"

"No, uh, no, it's…it's good," Joyce's fingers hover over the buttons of her register, "It lasts. I've got two teenage boys so, believe me, I know how important a good lock can be."

Neil chuckles at that, and it's a mean sound that turns Joyce's stomach. He taps the lock again, his already cold grin becoming chilling, "Oh yes, well, I think Billy's certainly going to know the importance of this one, aren't you, son?"

And if Joyce thought something felt off before? Well, that was nothing compared to the feeling she gets the moment she notices the flash of fear in Billy's eyes, and the way his fingers shake, fumbling with his change as he tries to tip it into his wallet.

---

Joyce is still thinking about it long after they've left, unable to shake the image of Neil's hand gripping Billy's shoulder, steering him out of the store, while Billy's fingers clenched, white knuckled, around the bolt in his hand. She keeps thinking about the way that Billy had looked, the expression on his face. Scared, but resigned. Broken.

Something's not right there, she thinks, Really not right.

Joyce Byers has got a pretty damn good record of getting to the bottom of all kinds of things that weren't right. And it's looking like she's just found herself another one to investigate.