Blue Velvet

by: FrankieLouWho

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I own nothing! I swear!

Notes: Sorry for the delay everyone. I had a death in the family, and things haven't been coming as easily to me. Hopefully soon I'll get back into the swing of things... For now, this is all I have to offer. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Three

Beth was nervous as she entered the club for the second time. Her hands shook as she pulled open the door, and she prayed that she looked older this time - having everyone comment on her young appearance was an annoyance she was hoping to avoid. Unwinding her scarf and shaking out her long blonde curls, she glanced around. There were a few patrons this time, couples looking intimate at the small tables. Jazz played softly around them, and Beth felt herself relax as Glenn waved to her from the bar. She made her way over to him, pulling off her jacket and revealing the fancy, black-lace top she wore over dark skinny jeans that hugged her curves nicely. Knee-high, slouchy black boots finished the outfit, and silver drop earrings sparkled in her lobes. Andrea had instructed her to wear smokey eye-shadow and red lipstick - more than her typical look, but the finished effect was exactly what she was going for.

"Wow," Glenn said, eyebrows jumping high on his forehead. "You look... Different."

"Thanks?" Beth asked, giggling.

"Grab a seat," he instructed. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Is that really a good idea?" she asked. Drinking on her first day? Not really the impression she was going for...

"Trust me, it'll be weirder if you don't." He smirked.

"I guess I'll have a Jack on the rocks." She didn't miss the surprised look on his face, but he didn't comment before turning to fix the drink. He put the tumbler in front of her, smiling. Beth took a sip, shivering as the fire went down her throat. She wasn't much of a drinker, but she always had a thing for whiskey. It was such a manly drink, but it was her favorite.

"Sounded pretty excited, earlier," Glenn said, smoothing a hand over his tie. Beth blushed.

"I moved to Detroit to get into music," she admitted, before taking another sip. "I wanted to come up here, get into a good soul band. Maybe make an album or something." She shrugged, rolling her big blue eyes. "Two years later, this is my first actual gig performing anywhere."

"Where are you from?" Glenn asked, leaning against the polished mahogany bar. Beth peered over his shoulder, to the mirror that panneled the wall behind him. Between the liquor bottles and the empty glasses on shelves, her reflection stared back at her. She also had a decent view of the door, which flung open and the dark, mysterious figure of Daryl (she decided to drop the Doorman part, deciding it lessened the whole hot and intriguing aspect). His eyes flicked immediately to her, the back of her blonde head, and Beth felt her heart begin to race.

Aside from the excitement of actually landing the job, Beth had been pleased at the idea of seeing Daryl again. The more she thought about him, the more flustered she grew. She couldn't put her finger on it - she had never dated older men, had never really been attracted to them. But something about him captured her imagination, and she found herself replaying their conversation over and over the past two days.

She watched in the mirror as he approached the bar, on her right.

"Hey," Glenn greeted. "Usual?"

Daryl nodded and pulled off his coat, then slid into the stool next to her's. Beth twisted and arched an eyebrow at him, raising her tumbler. She drained the last of her drink, and twitched an axious smile at him.

"I'm old enough, remember?" she asked, when he stared at her for long moments without speaking. He seemed to remember himself, and a smirk graced his face. Beth wondered if that was the closest he got to an actual smile. It wasn't bad, she ammended.

"Yeah, I remember." He sounded tired, but amused.

"You were right," she said, and he gave her a puzzled look. "I got the job, just like you said I would."

"Right," he agreed. He picked up the drink as soon as Glenn gave it to him, swigging it down in one gulp. He captured an ice cube between his lips, sucking it into his mouth. Beth shivered as she gazed at his mouth. How the hell was that so seductive? She was losing her mind. She needed another drink.

"So... How is the ID checking going? Anyone slip by you?" Oh my God, shut up. She blushed at her terrible attempt at small talk - he was going to think she was an idiot. Shaking her head, she glanced at Glenn and motioned for another drink. Reluctantly, she met Daryl's eyes. The penetrating blue nearly took her breath away.

"Not yet," he replied. However, instead of that half-smile thing he usually did, Beth was astounded to find an actual grin on his face. He was laughing at her - but her mind was still stuck on seeing the neat, straight white teeth behind his lips for the first time. She found herself wanting to lick them.

"Sorry, I'm just nervous, about the job," she was quick to specify. Not about sitting so close to him, or the smile he was giving her, or the fact that his eyes were so blue and dark they reminded her of blue velvet. It was insane - she was insane. Insanely attracted to him. In two years, she hadn't felt this way towards a single person. Perhaps it was a sign. Or, maybe, she was simply comfortable enough in this new world to allow herself to be attracted... Or, she was a twenty-one year old virgin, and her body was telling her it was time to take the plunge.

"You'll be good," Daryl said. He plucked another ice cube out of his glass, sliding it between his lips slowly. Beth felt her jaw hang open as she watched. His tongue snaked out, flicking over it, before sucking it between his lips and tucking it in his cheek. Beth resisted the urge to moan at the deliciously sinful sight. She flicked her eyes up to his, blushing as she realized he was watching her watching him. Oh God, did he do that on purpose? With a shaking hand, Beth lifted her whiskey to her lips and took a slow swig, then cleared her throat.

"Glenn said I was supposed to come and talk about rehearsals." She needed to leave Daryl's presence immediately, or else she would melt into a lusty puddle on this very bar stool.

"Yeah, I'm not your guy," Daryl said, shaking his head. "You'll want to talk to Carol 'bout that, or Morgan. He's out piano man."

Beth nodded, chewing her lip nervously. Why did he have to put her so on edge?

"Hey, Merle just called up asking for you," Glenn said, interrupting their conversation. Beth was relieved - at the rate she was downing whiskey, she would be drunk before she started. And while Glenn claimed drinking on the job was encouraged, she didn't want to be three-sheets to the wind before she began.

"Great," Daryl said darkly, before standing and grabbing his coat. "Later," he said, nodding at Glenn. The look he gave Beth was a mixture of amusement and something else, something darker, before he disappeared into the darkness of the back of the bar.

"Don't mind Daryl," Glenn told her, waving a dismissive hand. "He's a good guy, but he's got a lot going on."

"A lot of what going on?" Beth asked, curiously.

"Just work stuff." Glenn quickly spun around, grabbing a glass off the shelf and polishing it with a rag. He didn't realize that Beth could see the 'I-said-too-much' look on his face in the mirror.

"Being a door man can't be that stressful," Beth joked, watching his reflection closely. She didn't miss the way his shoulders sagged, defeated, before he turned back around.

"Look, theres a lot of - other stuff that goes on at Flanery's," he said, lowering his voice. Beth leaned forward, struggling to understand him. "I can't tell you what, because I respect the people I work for and I like my job too much. I make really good money, and you will too. All you need to do is keep your head down, and keep your mouth shut. That's the most valuable advice that I could ever give you."

Beth nodded, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She remembered Rick earlier in the day, his warning - perhaps she should have taken it.

"Hey, baby brother," Merle greeted cheerfully. In the basement office of the bar, he could usually be found drinking or snorting his product. It was bad taste, inbibing what you sold, but Daryl knew better to say anything about it. Merle Dixon was a tough son of a bitch, a bastard, stone-cold. Daryl had grown up with it, however. He was better than anyone at handling the gruff man. "Read about our friend in the paper. Shame." Daryl grunted, knowing that was Merle's roundabout way of patting him on the back.

"It is," Daryl replied.

"Anyway, just wanted to give you that bonus we talked about." Merle flashed him a toothy grin, and slid a thick manilla envelope across the table. Nodding, Daryl picked it up and peeked inside. Bundles of cash - exactly what he expected. "Heard you had a hand in picking our new song bird - Carol says she's a youngin'. You ain't into kids these days, are ya?"

"Hell no," Daryl said, frowning. Merle cackled, throwing his head back.

"Hope not. Don't need ya registered on the sex offender's list." Merle sighed loudly, leaning back in the roller-chair and folding his arms behind his head. There was something wrong with them - maybe more Merle than Daryl - but the Dixon boys had definitely not come out right. How could they be normal - their father was a drunk, their momma was a prostitute, and the family had fallen apart before Daryl turned ten. His memories of before, when his parents were together (kind of) and they all were living together under one roof, were hazy, colored with pain and hurting. Merle must have gotten the brunt of it before Daryl was born, and maybe that was what made him the way he was. What made Daryl the cold blooded killer he was.

He didn't feel bad for all of the blood on his hands. The lives he had ended. He did what he had to. What he needed to do to keep their business going. To keep them alive.

"Anyway, Carol says she needs some costumes. Figured you could take her out, get 'er a couple things. Since you like her so much." Merle's grin was malicious. There was humor in his eyes, but that was the only pleasant thing on his face. He wasn't a good looking man, and the women he had - some were beautiful, even - were never very nice. They were with him for the money, the power, everything that the Dixon name went hand-in-hand with. Daryl could have had plenty of women, probably a lot more and a lot better than the company his brother kept. But that wasn't his style.

"All right," Daryl agreed. After their moment at the bar, he wasn't sure how to feel about the girl. Beth Greene. She was gorgeous, adorable, and the way her cheeks turned pink when she was embarrassed was particularly endearing. It had been a very long time since he made a woman blush, and it was so very sweet. Finding someone so innocent, so unjaded to the events around them, was refreshing. But the very thing that attracted him to her was the same thing that made him want to keep his distance. She was was too good for him. More than he deserved. But he couldn't shake the image of her, eyes on his lips as she licked her own, probably without even realizing what she was doing.

And now he got to take her shopping. The joys never ended.

"Good work," Merle added, as Daryl stood to leave the dingey little office. "I'll let you know if there any other jobs need to be done."

Daryl nodded at his brother, then turned and slipped out the door. He needed another drink.

Three hours later, Beth had scheduled her rehearsal time between shifts, decided on a set - she would be open to taking requests, too - and Daryl had informed her that he would be taking her shopping, preferably tomorrow morning, for a few dresses to wear while she performed. All at the expense of Flanery's. It was like something out of a movie, and Beth's head was spinning with excitement and plans. Her first set was Friday evening, starting at eight. She was glad that the schedule at Nieko's was so flexible, and that she and the other waitresses were always happy to cover each other's shifts. After two years, and never calling in, Beth figured she had some favors to cash in.

"I suppose I'll see you tomorrow," she was saying, glancing up at Daryl. She was exhausted from her morning shift, the nervous jitters before she arrived at Flanery's. Now, after the drinks and the planning, she was ready to take off her heels, slip into pajamas, and curl up in her bed. She covered a yawn, blinking at Daryl apologetically.

"Let me walk you to your car," Daryl said, and she agreed. It was dark out, and even though she felt safe here, there was no telling who or what was lurking in the darking lot after sundown. It was the murder capitol of the country.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked. They reached her car, and Beth unlocked the door and leaned in to start the engine and warm it up. Straightening, she let the wind whip her hair across her face.

"Ten sharp," Daryl agreed. Carefully, he extended a hand to brush the hair off her face, and she felt a trail of fire left from his fingertips. Gasping at the sensation, her eyes cut to his, startled. Daryl snatched his hand back quickly, frowning. Beth glanced away, clearing her throat.

"Thanks, by the way. For everything," she added. "I still can't believe I got the job - I know it's not a Grammy or anything..." She shrugged, giving him a small smile. "But it's still a big deal to me."

Daryl didn't reply, simply nodded. "Night," she said, sliding into the driver's seat. She fastened her belt and tried not to watch him as she pulled out of the parking lot. She wasn't sure how, or really why, but her heart was pounding in her chest. Shaking her head, she turned into the street, pretending not to notice his figure lingering in the parking lot, watching her leave.