Blue Velvet
by: FrankieLouWho
Disclaimer: Do not own! Not even close.
Notes: So, hey guys. Weclome to the world of Walking Dead meets gangster Detroit. Starring all of your favorites in fun and interesting roles. I'm still working on Here We Remain, though it has already started to take a backseat to this story... The muse wants what it wants, I do apologize to those of you that are really interested in the other. I'll try to update both as evenly as I can, but I'm not making any promises! Anyway, on with the fic! Please review if you read and let me know what you think :]
Chapter One
"Here. Found this for you."
Beth Greene glanced up from the coffee she was pouring, eyes landing on the folded up newspaper Andrea had dropped onto the formica counter. It was a blustery, snowy morning in Detroit, and the diner was buzzing with activity. Flashing a quick, harried smile to the hipster guy with big black-framed glasses, Beth returned the coffee pot to the burner and turned her attention to the tall blonde. They'd been coworkers for two years, roommates for the majority of that time too. As Andrea unwound the long, blue-and-silver scarf that Beth had knit her for Christmas the previous winter, she raised her brows and nodded at the paper.
"Seriously. Look."
Rolling her big blue eyes, Beth picked up the damp Free Press and glanced at it. Classified. "If this is your extremely hilarious way of telling me to find a new place to live..." She let her sentence trail off, and heard a huff of laughter from her friend. Two years ago, she had come to Detroit with dreams of granduer. Most of the people she'd known back home had called her crazy, pointing out that the city was in ruins and also the murder capitol of the country. Her father was beside himself with worry, and still was. But this was the heart of Motown, the place where it all began. Beth wanted to immerse herself in the music here, the culture... Find a band to sing with, maybe get famous.
However, her dreams had yet to be recognized. Instead of 'finding a band' she had auditioned with three, and gave up after realizing that she was simply not fitting in. Plus, there was hardly any time - between hunting for a job and a place to live, with her meager savings dwindling, she had been lucky to not wind up on the harsh Detroit streets. The city was dangerous, Beth discovered, but only if you wandered to the wrong places. The day that she had found Nieko's Coney Island, it had been raining. The heavy rainclouds rolled in so quickly, the rain began to fall in harsh sheets, and Beth had ducked into the little cafe. She was caught without an umbrella, and the thin sundress she wore was nearly soaked through.
Andrea had taken one look at her and smirked. Sitting on one of the red vinyl stools at the long Formica bar, Beth was certain she looked like a pitiful drowned kitten, dripping onto the black-and-white tiled floor. But Andrea had been kind, listened to her cry over a slice of pecan pie (which tasted nothing like her mother's, not even close) and was sympathetic. She'd found Beth an application, which she assured her was merely a formality, and told her to come back the next day in jeans and a T-shirt and sneakers, and ready to work.
Two years later, Beth was still there. She liked the busy atmosphere, the vastly different people that wandered through the front door. Even Nieko, the ancient old Greek that owned and ran the place, was a comfort to her - in the sense that his hopeless flirtations and winks, as well as the graying mustache and shiny bald head, never changed. She was two years older, with two years of more life experience. She was twenty-one now, and while most people her age were trying to figure out the big meaning of life, finding their soulmates, whatever - Beth was content to sling burgers and hang out with Andrea. It was simple, but that was the way Beth liked it.
Her eyes found the advertisement that Andrea had so kindly circled in red Sharpie. 'Singer Needed - Open Auditions at 2 PM.' There was an address listed, it was a bar downtown, one that Beth had vaguely heard of. She wasn't sure about it, couldn't remember the things she'd heard - but Andrea wouldn't have suggested it, if she didn't think it was safe. She had taken over the role of protective older sister, and it had made Beth's heartache to remember Maggie back home. The two women were very dissimilar in looks, but they were both fiercly protective, and Beth looked up to both in the same fashion. She trusted Andrea deeply, and respected her fully.
"What am I s'posed to do with this?" Beth asked, dropping the paper onto the counter. She put her hands on her hips, ignoring the rude woman at table four, who was rattling the ice in her soda cup loudly.
"Well, first of all, you're welcome." Andrea flashed her famous smile, the one that half of their lunch patrons tipped extra for. "Second of all, you'd better get going - you're going to be late, regardless. But it's still worth a shot."
"Andrea - I can't just go," Beth protested. "I got open tables and - and I've got nothing to wear! I don't have anything prepared!" She pushed the loose, unruly wisps of blonde curls off her face, following the older woman into the kitchen. Sergei, one of the cooks, was leaning against the prep-station, thumbing through an old paperback book. He cocked an eyebrow at the blondes, before his mouth spread into a wolfish grin.
"Not now, not ever," Andrea told him, wagging her finger. He chuckled and returned his gaze to the book. She turned her eyes to Beth, and began to wrap her apron on and gestured for Beth to held her tie it. "Listen, this is your dream. You remember when you came in here, crying your eyes out and saying you wanted to be a singer? Well, here's your chance. Not only is Flanery's a really classy place, but I know the bouncer. Good guy." She smirked and Beth knew that look very well - either someone she had hooked up with, or someone she wanted to hook up with.
"But if I don't make it -"
"Well, you didn't want to go to begin with, did you?" Andrea quipped. She rolled her hazel eyes and reached to place her hands on Beth's slender shoulders. "C'mon, kid. I've known you a while now, and you're getting complacent. You're givin' up on your dreams. And I can't let that happen. Not when you have so much talent, not when you're such a sweetie. Now, go on. I'll take over. Lizzie will be here at four to help with the dinner rush."
"You really think I'm talented?" Beth asked softly. She peered uncertainly up at Andrea, who grinned at her, before pressing a kiss to the girl's round cheek.
"You know it. Now, go! Seriously, you're going to be so late!" Andrea pushed her out of the kitchen, and Beth couldn't wipe the huge, goofy grin off her grabbing the newspaper, she pulled on her gray pea-coat that she'd found at the GoodWill, slid mittens on her hands and the floppy beanie on her head.
"Good luck!" Andrea called over her shoulder, and Beth waved before ducking out the door. Snow and salt crunched under her Chuck Taylors, and she checked the paper again. The bar wasn't that far away, but she didn't have much time. Hurrying to her beat-up Camry, she hopped behind the wheel and turned the key. Miraculously, the engine turned over on the first try and Beth patted the dashboard affectionately. Other than Andrea and the people at work, her car was her other best friend - she spent enough time in it, and paid enough money to keep it going. Pulling out onto the slushy street, she hit her indicator and headed to the club.
Oh God, Beth thought, speeding past the other vehicles and side-streets. She was wearing her work clothing. Old jeans, a modest gray shirt. Her hair was bound in a low ponytail with stray hairs escaping. She barely even had any make-up on. Crap.
But she was pulling into the parking lot of the squat building. From the outside, it wasn't much to look at. Tinted windows, an old sign hanging over the door reading, "Flanery's," heavy and worn wooden door that matched the exterior. Parking her car and cutting the engine, Beth glanced into the mirror one last time and sighed. Hopefully, they'd excuse her tardiness and her disheveled appearance. She counted to ten in her head, calming her suddenly frantic breathing, before grabbing her purse and climbing out of her car. She locked the door behind her - never too safe, here in the Murder Mitten.
Snow swirled and stuck her coat as she jogged across the parking lot and up the short steps, then through the front door. Inside, it was warm and surprisingly empty. On stage, a beautiful woman with long, dark hair warbled an old tune that Beth recognized from the old standards albums her mother was fond of. Pulling off her hat, then her gloves, stuffing it all into the pockets of her coat, she weaved her way through the small two-top tables, draped in black linens and topped with votive candles in fancy crystal centerpieces, to the bar.
"Hi," she said, flashing what she hoped was a bright smile to the man behind the counter. He was Asian, with thick dark hair parted to the side and swept over neatly. He wore a crisp white button-down with a skinny black tie, yet managed to not look like a waitstaff extra from some corporate franchise. His expression was not friendly as he gazed at her. "Um, I was hoping to audition -"
"You're late," he said, cutting her off.
"I know, I'm so sorry," Beth replied. "I was at work, I got off as soon as I could - I'm never late, promise." She laid her southern drawl on thickly, having experienced enough angry customers to know that a little Georgia charm could go a long way with this Yankees. "Traffic up here's crazier 'n a June-bug."
Finally, he cracked a grin. "You're lucky," he said, pointing at her. "You get one song, and you go on next."
"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Beth cried, and the butterflies that erupted in her belly were wild. She slipped off her jacket, folding it over her arm, and subtley checked for any foodstains on her shirt. As the woman on stage finished her song, flashing a triumphant smile, the jitters overwhelmed the excitement. Suddenly, the nightmares she used to have as a child - the ones where she was on stage, under the blinding, hot spotlight, and she opened her mouth to sing in front of a crowded, sold out hall and nothing came out - came flooding back. Her palms began to sweat, and she wiped at her jeans nervously.
It had been a very long time since she had been on stage. Especially solo. Auditioning for bands was one thing - usually, it took place in someone's garage, and the kids were her age and it wasn't always a paying gig. This was totally different than what she was used to. Running a hand over her ponytail, she bit her lip. A woman front of the small stage, dominated mostly by a big, shiny baby-grand piano, called out, "Next!" Beth glanced to the bartender, who nodded at her - well, at least she wouldn't have too much time to worry.
"Give me your stuff," he said, and Beth practically threw her coat and purse at him. Shakily, she headed to the front of the restaurant where the stage was located. There were three short steps and she was on the black-painted floorboards. Luckily, there was no spotlight. Just the dim foot-lights illuminating her. That was more bearable.
"Honey? You even old enough to be in here?" The woman at the end of the stage smiled up at her. She had short, steely-gray hair, and blue eyes that twinkled with amusement. Beth nodded. "Go on then, I suppose." She waved her hand and Beth stepped up to the microphone, adjusting the stand. The woman before her hand been tall and very thin, and Beth was much shorter. Once it was at a comfortable height, she took a deep breath. It was weird to be thrown into this, with no preparation, and no accompanist. But it was much like riding a bike, and Beth found as she opened her mouth, the first syllables of the old song that she knew very well left her throat, that she was comfortable.
Closing her eyes, she pretended that she was alone in the bathroom of her tiny apartment with Andrea. Using her hairbrush in lieu of a mic, she would belt her heart out and make the older woman laugh and clap. This was the same - well, a little different... "At last my love has come along. My lonely days are over... And life is like a song." Beth swayed to the music that only she could hear. She slid one hand over the mic and cradled it like a budding flower in the other. Etta James was one of her favorites, and she knew the song like the back of her hand. Putting her southern spin on it was fun, and she finally had the bravery to open her eyes. The woman in front of her was staring, brows furrowed in deep concentration; the bartender's jaw had dropped open in shock. Taking that as a good sign, Beth continued.
"Oh yeah yeah. You smiled, you smiled. Oh and then the spell was cast. And here was are in heaven for you are mine... At last." A man was pulling up a seat with the woman in front as Beth finished singing. Beth put on her biggest smile and stepped back from the mic. There was a smattering of applause from the bar, and Beth giggled, giddy, at the bartender. Taking the steps quickly, she came to the little table where the woman was sitting. Her blue eyes sparkled as she gazed at Beth.
"Very nice," she said, then turned her gaze to the man in the seat beside her. Beth took in the man - he was older, with a beard speckled gray, and messy dark hair. He wore a bulky black overcoat, and there was a hardened expression on his face. Blue eyes raked Beth from head to toe, and she felt herself blush under his scrutiny. "What do you think, Daryl?"
"She's all right," he said, in a low tone. Beth immediately bit back her remark - she'd been around Andrea too much, and the sass was beginning to rub off. Instead, she settled for letting the smile drop off her face and crossing her arms over her chest.
"Well, I liked her!"
"Thank you, Glenn," the woman said, and Beth sent a smile in the direction of the bar. Glenn was all right in her book. "Why don't you write down your information, and we'll get in touch with you."
"Thanks," Beth said. She wrote her name and phone number on the sheet that the lady indicated, gave her one last hopeful smile, before sidling to the bar to collect her things. Glenn was grinning at her from ear to ear, and she couldn't help but return it. He was one of the friendliest people that she had encountered in the two years since she came to Michigan. He probably made a killing in tips, if this was his personality during a rush.
"Put a good word in for me, will you?" she asked, and he chuckled with a nod.
"Will do. See you around, peach," he said, and Beth nodded as she pulled on her jacket and started for the door. She was stepping back into the flurry of snowflakes when her eyes landed on the man that had been sitting by the stage, the one that gave her such glowing feedback. She couldn't help the glare that she sent him - it was an unconcious reaction.
"You even old enough to be singin' in a bar?" he asked her, and Beth rolled her eyes at the question.
"Would you like to see my ID?" she asked. He smirked at her, nodded, before raising his cigarette to his lips and inhaling. Huffing, Beth dug her wallet out of her purse and flipped it open, showing the laminated pocket where her driver's license was. She thrust it in his face, and his eyes were sky-blue as they gave her a warning look. He took the pink wallet from her hands, studying intently.
"Ya barely even twenty-one," he muttered, and gave her back the wallet.
"Well, unless you're going by a different set of state-issued laws..." Beth drawled, irritation coloring her tone.
"Listen, this is my job. I'm the door man. I'm supposed to make sure no underage kids get in. I ain't trying to be a dick," he added. Beth studied him for a moment, surprised by the quick grin that he gave her. There was something about him that was oddly interesting, like one of those abstract paintings that was nice to look at but she didn't necessarily understand. Daryl - that was what the woman had called him, Beth remembered - was much more handsome in the snowy light outside. She could see that he was older, perhaps in his early forties, but the lines around his eyes did nothing to take away from his overall good looks.
It was his surly attitude that did that.
"I gotta go," Beth found herself saying.
"You'll get the job," Daryl told her, as she was turning towards her car. She spun on her heel, giving him an incredulous look. "I'll put in a good word - and we all know Glenn liked you."
"Thanks - hey," Beth said, remembering what Andrea had said earlier in the diner. She knew the door guy - unless they had more than one, this had to be the guy. "My friend at Nieko's, she told me to come in here. To audition... She said she knew ya."
"Tall, blonde, legs for days?" he asked, and the corner of Beth's lips lifted in a half-smile. She nodded. "Yup. Andrea, right?"
"The one and only," Beth quipped.
"Tell her I said hi." He nodded, and Beth did too. She waved over her shoulder as she headed towards her car, stomach churning with excitement and nerves. What had begun as an average, boring day had turned into hopefully a life-changing one. If she was to believe Daryl the Doorman, it would be. Settling into her car and turning the engine - twice in one day that it didn't protest - Beth couldn't help but smile. It was a good day, indeed.