Bittersweet: Carmen Pham gave up everything so her little sister Faye would have a shot at a good future—now a brutal Serpent and FP's right hand woman, she's managed to keep her side-job a secret. She may not be thrilled when Southside High is shut down, bringing the Serpents back into Faye's life, but Faye is drawn to the town's shadows—especially a serpent named Sweet Pea. SP/OC, FP/OC
CHAPTER ONE: I THINK YOU'RE FORGETTING YOUR PLACE
"You always seemed so sure that one day we'd be fighting
in a suburban war, your part of town against mine.
I saw you standing on the opposite shore,
but by the time the first bombs fell,
we were already bored." -Arcade Fire
Speaking technically, Faye Pham was from the wrong side of town. And she always had been, no matter how badly she tried to hide it beneath a River Vixens uniform. In her freshman year at Riverdale High, Faye had three goals: fly under the radar, find friends who liked her, and ace geometry.
She'd done well enough with geometry, and for the most part maintained total social irrelevance—helped by the fact that Jason Blossom's murder was all anyone seemed to talk about. She was still working on the friends. As she sprinted along the train tracks in her Vixens uniform, late to Pop's, Faye looked over her shoulder at the apartment complex she was leaving behind—worn-down and dirty, especially next to the homes of the few friends she'd made.
Crossing the border always felt somewhat wrong. Faye had attended the same middle school as most of Riverdale High, and being on the Northside was part of her everyday routine. Still, that never made it easier.
Chancing a glance in each direction, Faye darted across the train tracks, adjusting the straps of her backpack as she went. Dusk hugged the horizon, blue gloaming already cast across the sky behind her as she headed towards the last remaining daylight.
Inside the diner, Faye found the girls she was looking for: Betty and Veronica, fellow River Vixens. Beside Betty, a boy in a beanie, who at this particular moment, was ranting emphatically.
"It's just one more nail in the coffin that is Riverdale," he declared. "No, forget Riverdale—in the coffin of the American Dream. As the godfather of indie cinema, Quentin Tarantino, likes to say—"
"Hi, Faye," Kevin Keller interrupted, from his spot next to Veronica. He wore a tight smile that suggested he may not have been as enthused by beanie-boy's manifesto as the others. "It's so good to see you."
Faye knew now with certainty that Kevin was just using her to get the other boy to stop—she and Kevin barely knew each other; she didn't even know he was gonna be here with Betty and Veronica had invited her to get milkshakes.
"Hey, Faye," Betty chimed in. "Pull up a chair?"
Faye nodded quietly, dragging a chair from a nearby table and settling in it. "I don't think we've met," she said to the guy next to Betty. "I'm Faye Pham."
"Jughead," he introduced flatly, lifting his hand in a small wave.
Right. Welcoming indeed.
"I'm pissed," Jughead continued. "And not just about losing my job. The Twilight Drive-In should mean something to us."
In her own personal experience of the town, Faye had no emotional connection whatsoever to the Twilight Drive-in. She'd heard of it, but if she ever had enough money to see a movie, she usually crossed the river and went to the actual theater in Greendale. She didn't have a license or a car, and her older sister never had enough time between her two jobs to take Faye out to James Dean double-features. It had never been a problem for her—but for Jughead, it seemed to be life-or-death.
Veronica placed her hand over Jughead's gently. "In this age of Netflix and VOD, do people really want to watch a movie in a car?"
"It's kind of a cute idea," Faye agreed. "The Drive-in. But it's kind of...inaccessible. To people without cars."
"Exactly," Veronica agreed, and Faye let out a breath of relief at the older girl's approval. "I mean, who even goes there?"
"People who want to buy crack," Kevin retorted.
"And cinephiles," Jughead objected. "And car enthusiasts."
Faye briefly considered asking what the Drive-in had to do with crack cocaine, but Jughead was already spiraling off on another rant about ownership and investments, and she got the feeling that interrupting him wouldn't make for a good introduction in any sense.
A waitress in a pale yellow uniform swept by, setting a plate of fries down for the table. "Can I get you anything?" she asked Faye.
"A strawberry milkshake, please?" she asked.
"Coming up," the waitress replied, placing an affectionate hand on Veronica's shoulder as she went.
"Thanks, mom," Veronica said.
Faye raised an eyebrow. Veronica lived in the largest penthouse in Riverdale—but her mom was a waitress? She knew enough about Veronica's father from the rumors that circled their school: he was serving time for embezzlement and he'd been denied bail as a flight risk. But Faye had always assumed that when people lost everything, they didn't get to jump back into luxury lofts on a minimum-wage salary.
It wasn't like she was in any position to judge, all things considered. Faye lived in a one-bedroom apartment with a sister who crashed on the couch and worked two full-time jobs, neither of which were as clean-cut as waitressing at Pop's. Carmen spent most nights bartending at a dive on the Southside, and most days fixing up cars as Riverdale's only mechanic.
"You should all come to closing night," Jughead invited.
"That sounds fun," Betty concurred. "Last hurrah?" She jostled Jughead's shoulder gently, and Faye noticed the slightest of smiles on his lips.
"I'm thinking American Graffiti," he said. "Or is that too obvious?"
"Hmm," Veronica said, leaning back in her booth. "I vote for anything starring Audrey Hepburn. Ooh! Or Cate Blanchett."
"Or The Talented Mister Ripley," Kevin added. "Betty? Faye? Your votes?"
"Um," said Faye. "The last movie I saw was Avengers."
Jughead audibly gagged at her answer, but Veronica sent Faye an amused look.
"Maybe Rebel Without a Cause?" Betty suggested, drawing another fond smile from Jughead.
"Genius," he said, reaching for a fry and popping it into his mouth. "You're coming then?"
"I'll try my best," Betty said. "You know how my mother is."
"The three of us will be there," Veronica promised, and Faye briefly considered counting on her fingers just to double check that she'd been included in that number. "Right?" she continued, sending sideways glances to Kevin and Faye.
"Totally," Kevin answered. "My dad's on patrol Friday night, so I can take his truck. I can pick you guys up."
"Faye?" Veronica prompted.
"Oh, yeah. I just—um, I need to check with my sister." She shrugged, drumming her fingers on the edge of the table. "It should be fine." Carmen surely wouldn't object to her seeing a movie with friends, especially when it was another girl and a gay guy.
"What's your address?" Kevin asked. "I'll pick up Veronica and then you."
Faye's fingers stilled. She thought about her run-down apartment building, the guys who hung out in the parking lot kicking gravel around, the Southside Serpents who frequented the area. Kevin Keller was the Sheriff's kid—if he found out that she lived there, Faye wasn't sure he'd want to be her friend for much longer. "Um, I can meet you here, actually. It'll be easier for me that way."
"Are you sure?" Kevin said. "I seriously don't mind."
"Yes," Faye said, nodding adamantly. "I'm positive."
She could tell by the look of apprehension on Jughead's face that a weird vibe had settled over the table, and she pushed her chair out. "I'll be right back," she announced. "I'm gonna go to the restroom."
Faye stood and shoved her hands into her pockets as she breezed down the row of tables. She'd almost made it past the counter with a hand grabbed onto her arm firmly, yanking her back. Faye knew who it was before she saw the girl's face—the red acrylics were answer enough. Cheryl Blossom.
"H-hey, Cheryl," Faye greeted, her voice rising about an octave as she tried to mask her panic with some sort of enthusiasm.
"Fiona," Cheryl replied. Faye didn't bother to correct her. "What are you doing with the Goddaughter herself?"
Faye glanced back at the table, where the four had returned to a happy conversation. Veronica was laughing and sipping on her chocolate shake—not criminal behavior. "Eating fries?" She could tell that Cheryl was looking for a specific answer, judging solely by the fact that her nails were still buried into Faye's arm, but she didn't know what it was, or why. Cheryl had scared the hell out of her at Vixen auditions, and spent most of the season sending her on errands—which Faye was happy to do. Cheryl could ruin her life at any given moment, given her family and status otherwise, and Faye had no doubt that she would, so fetching fiji waters from the local supermarket in the middle of practice was a small price to pay. Her sudden interest in Faye's Wednesday night was bizarre, to say the least.
"Try again," Cheryl said.
"Talking about the Drive-in?" Faye guessed.
"Better. What about it?"
"Um, they're showing Rebel Without a Cause for closing night on Friday."
"Interesting." Cheryl released her arm. "Thank you."
Faye offered her a smile that was more grimace than anything. "Sure." When Cheryl shooed her and resumed scrolling through her phone, Faye turned and left for the restroom.
Even though she'd never known Cheryl pre-Jason, Faye tried to give her some benefit of the doubt. Sure, she enjoyed toying with Faye, and yeah, she was kind of a bitch at cheer practice, but Cheryl had the same kind of look in her eyes that Faye recognized in her sister: the ferocity of somebody with nothing left to lose. And for that, Faye felt something adjacent to sympathy.
Later that night, Faye unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped inside. Thanks to Carmen's bad habits, the place smelled like cigarette smoke, but it had hung in the air so consistently throughout Faye's life that she had learned to associate it with being home.
"Faye?" Carmen called from the kitchen.
Faye kicked her shoes off. "Coming," she replied, dropping her bag by the door.
The apartment was small, but her sister had done what she could to approximate warmth within its walls. A few pictures of their family were taped, unframed, to the walls. Their dead parents' wedding photo on an end table. A cross near the door and another in the kitchen. The sad, yellowing paint on the walls may have been peeling off, and the carpet may have been matted and reeking of nicotine, but Faye felt a comfort in the apartment that she never managed to feel anywhere else—school, Pop's, or otherwise.
Carmen gave her a brief once-over from her spot at the stove. "You look peppy. How was school, kid?"
She shrugged. "Fine. How's the shop?"
"Same old," Carmen answered, pulling two bowls out of the cabinet. As she reached up, her sleeve slipped down, revealing her heavily tattooed arms. Faye had always been curious about her sister's tattoos, but Carmen had always been insistent that they stay hidden. She wore long sleeves year round, never revealing to Faye what the ink on her body said. "I've got a shift at the Wyrm in an hour, I have to eat fast."
Faye accepted the bowl and settled down at the table. "Do you know about the Drive-in?" she asked, as Carmen joined her.
"I used to go there in high school," her sister said. "Why?"
Faye felt a pang of envy, and then rushed to bury it. Carmen had grown up on the right side of the tracks, with two loving parents. She hadn't wanted for anything. It was a life that Faye could've had, if her parents hadn't been killed in the accident. Now, it was as out of reach as everything else on the Northside of town. The happiness. The safety. The ability to let her guard down for more than a second at a time.
She knew her anger was misplaced. Being jealous of her sister was a ridiculous notion—Carmen worked herself to the bone now just to provide for the both of them. Whatever glamorous life she'd had as a teenager, she'd sacrificed to give Faye a way out of this town. So she didn't get to go to drive-in with her friends, or take walks past sunset, or go to class without fear of people finding out where she'd come from. High school was now—her sister had given up her future so that Faye could have one, and she wasn't going to waste it.
"It's getting closed down," Faye said nonchalantly, shoveling macaroni into her mouth. "One of my classmates, Jughead—he works there. He was pretty upset about it. But he invited us all to the closing night. Rebel Without a Cause."
She watched her sister's face carefully, waiting for a reaction. Carmen narrowed her eyes, chewed thoughtfully, and then leaned her elbows on the table. "You're not going, right?"
"Well, I thought I might. Veronica and Kevin invited me."
"Lodge and Keller, right?" Carmen asked.
Faye nodded, taking another bite. "Kevin can pick me up, and everything. You won't need to give me a ride, I know you're working on Friday."
Her sister blew out a breath. "Look, kid. I wish I could say yes, but that part of town—it's just not safe." She shook her head. "There's a lot of gang activity. At the drive-in, especially. It's crawling with Serpents."
Faye crumpled, but nodded. "Okay," she said. Carmen was looking out for her—and what else could she want from her sister? Faye was from the Southside, and she knew well enough that the best way to survive was to keep her head down and mind her own business. Gang wars were erupting all the time, and she'd skip the movie to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.
"I'm sorry, hon," Carmen said. She reached across the table and took Faye's hand. "You'll see your friends another time, yeah?"
Faye nodded, thinking about Veronica and Betty and Kevin, and considering whether or not she could ever really call them her friends. And if she couldn't now, whether she ever would.
Carmen Pham was by now used to the look people gave her when she caught them off-guard. It was the same look she'd gotten from FP Jones when she walked into the Whyte Wyrm thirteen years ago, a two-year-old Faye in her arms, looking for a job and a drink. A look like, who does she think she is?
In all the years since then, she hadn't come up with much of an answer. Carmen was a sister. Carmen was exhausted, always. And in this exact moment, she was the woman holding a knife in Mustang's direction, as he gave her that familiar look.
"I think you're forgetting your place," she warned him, fisting her hand into the neckline of his shirt.
"Boss?" Mustang asked, turning to FP for help.
Behind Carmen, FP shrugged apathetically. "You should know better than to give her lip, Mustang."
Mustang rolled his eyes, and Carmen poked the edge of the blade into the plate of his chest. "Fine. I'm sorry," he conceded, sounding extraordinarily unapologetic.
In moments like these, Carmen was given two choices—take the hit and let it go, or to make an example. If she was a better person, maybe she'd be able to cut her losses, but Carmen wasn't very good at much, and especially not good in the philosophical sense. She dragged the knife up, pressing the point into the hollow of his throat and drawing a pinprick of blood. "Do you want to try that again?" she offered.
Mustang leaned back, and she moved her hand from his chest to the back of his head, bringing him closer towards her. "I'm sorry, Carmen," he apologized. He didn't sound genuine, but he did sound afraid, and that was good enough for her.
She pulled the knife away and shoved him back, before turning out to the crowd of Serpents gathered in the Whyte Wyrm that night. "As I was saying, you all better clear your schedules and make it out to the Drive-in this Friday." She flipped the handle of her butterfly knife, fastening and pocketing it. Carmen hopped onto the barstool she'd been perched on. "We've gotta make good on this deal, and this is the final nail in the coffin."
Next to her, FP folded his arms over his chest and said, "If you show up, you get paid on Saturday. You bail—if you break your word, you deal with her." He pointed at Carmen. She waved coyly and offered a hollow, tight smile. "Got it?"
From the crowd, a round of yessirs. Carmen loathed the way they answered to FP and not to her, but the Serpents had given her so much that not being able to take credit was a nonissue, in the practical sense. She still got paid. She still had a job. She was still able to take care of her sister—and that was what mattered, more than anything. The things Carmen had to do to make that happen were background noise.
"Alright, that's enough. Scatter," FP dismissed. Almost immediately, the room shifted from silent and deferential back to being a bar. Games of pool resumed. The music picked up again. And, as had become their routine on nights like these, FP slung an arm around Carmen's shoulders and led her upstairs into the office, where he poured whiskey for them both and settled behind the desk.
"You shouldn't be drinking, For," she reminded him, digging into her pocket for the usual pack of Marlboros and balancing one between her lips. "You got a light?"
"The irony of those two things back to back isn't lost on me," he reminded her, but tossed a lighter in her direction nonetheless.
She took a slow inhale, and then blew out the smoke. "My sister and your son have been hanging out."
FP raised an eyebrow. "Have they, now?"
"He invited her to closing night at the Drive-in."
He let out a low whistle. "And?"
"She's not going. I'm supposed to be there, you know, and I've gotten myself into a sort of fucked-up Clark Kent situation."
Carmen leaned back, kicking up her legs and crossing them at the edge of FP's desk. Normally, he made some sort of effort to protest, but tonight he was distracted by something else. "Did she say anything about Jughead?" he said finally, the whiskey in his hand swirling around the glass with the pivot of his wrist.
"Just that he's upset about it." She frowned. FP never talked about his kids. When she'd first met him, and he was married, it had been to keep his family safe. After his wife walked out on him, though, it had just been a sore subject. Carmen liked to push boundaries where she could, but never with FP. She cared about him too much to fuck around with him for kicks.
"I'm starting to think I may be a lost cause for him," FP admitted.
Carmen nodded slowly, then kicked her feet off the table. She stood and reached across the desk, snatching the glass of whiskey from his hand and downing it before he could protest. "Start with the drinking," she told him. "You need to be conscious to be a father."
He scoffed. "I can stop without you physically taking my drink."
She arched an eyebrow. He frowned.
"How's the kid?" he asked, after the silence had gotten unbearably heavy.
Carmen shrugged. "She's a kid. She's on the cheer team, but that Blossom bitch keeps bullying her. She wanted to go to the drive-in with Veronica Lodge and the Sheriff's kid, of all people."
That managed to draw a laugh out of FP. Carmen ached at the sound. Sometimes, she thought she might die to hear him happy. "Are you serious?"
"I don't lie to you." She took a drag. "I think she needs to spend time with people who are normal, though, and—you know, safe."
"Right, because the Lodges are known for staying out of trouble." He gave her a knowing look and steepled his fingers, resting his elbows on the edge of the desk. "Or did you forget who we're meeting this Friday?"
Carmen rolled her eyes. "Their daughter is, like, fifteen. Her only crime is being spoiled. And her Riverdale High school spirit."
"Watch it," FP said, his voice taking on a levity that surprised Carmen. "I was on varsity."
She made a point of rolling her eyes. It was a fact he'd mentioned to her more than once, but she still had trouble picturing him in anything but the flannels and the Serpent jacket he typically donned. "Before your fall from grace, right?"
FP leaned forward and gave her a wicked smile. "Exactly." He raised an eyebrow at Carmen. "And what were you like in high school?"
Now she laughed. She wondered if FP would believe her if she owned up to who she used to be. She wondered if it would catch him off guard, or if he would have guessed it. It was a discovery for another time. Instead of answering, Carmen said, "You're gonna need a lot more whiskey to get that out of me." She ashed her cigarette in the bowl on FP's desk.
"We've done some terrible things together," he remarked.
"To crime and villainy," said Carmen, lifting her now-empty glass.
"I would toast, but you took my drink."
The corner of her mouth quirked up into some wry smile, and she leaned forward, extending her pinky. "Fine. Let's make it a promise, instead."
FP scoffed, but he hooked his pinky in her own. "Crime and villainy, huh?"
"'Til death do us part."
A/N: Thank you for reading! I'm not the best with summaries but if you want a hint at what the vibes of this fic are it's like Six of Crows meets Dare Me but with some Lilo and Stitch thrown in there? I'm just a slut for the Serpents. Let me know what you think and I'll see you next time!