Blue Velvet
by: FrankieLouWho
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I own nothing! I'm trying though. To own things.
Notes: I guess the muse found me! I was surprised to sit down and this all just poured out. The response to all of my updates has been so amazing and uplifting. Really, us Bethylers are so lucky to be part of such a friendly and amazing ship. Everyone is so lovely, and I'm so grateful to all of you that review/favorite/follow and find me on tumblr to tell me nice things. Which, by the way, if you'd like to be my friend on TUMBLR, I'm idreamoffrankie - find me and lets be friends!
Please keep the reviews and feedback up! It makes me type faster, I swear! Thank you again, I hope you enjoy this installment!
Chapter Five
Friday morning, Beth was a nervous wreck. She woke with a start, instantly awake and sitting up in bed. A glance to her alarm revealed it was early, only six-thirty, and she cursed her biological clock for keeping to her breakfast shift hours. The first day she could sleep in this week, and it didn't look like she would get to. With a sigh, she pushed back the heavy quilt on her bed, slipped her feet into slippers, and padded into the kitchen.
Andrea was up, though she seemed much groggier than Beth. Her blonde curls were falling out of a banana clip as she sipped her coffee, giving a weak smile in greeting.
"Morning," Beth said, pouring herself a mug of coffee and flopping onto one of the chairs at their little kitchen table. She'd never drank coffee before living with Andrea - now, she couldn't imagine beginning her day without a mug. It was heavenly. Beth inhaled the rich aroma before taking a sip, ignoring the burn.
"I had the weirdest dream last night," Andrea said, voice gravelly. "You were singing at the diner. Officer Hottie and his kid were there." She chuckled, and Beth gave her a big smile at the nickname. It was a joke among the servers - he and his partner, Shane Walsh, were the McDreamy and McSteamy of their real lives. Except there was something about Shane that through Beth off - Andrea thought the barely-contained aggression in the big man was attractive. She could have him, Beth thought.
"Feels weird not to be going into work this morning," Beth said after a few thoughtful moments.
"Nervous?" Andrea asked.
"Yeah," Beth admitted, nodding. "What if I get up there and choke? Like nothing comes out?" Her big blue eyes were full of anxiety as she gazed at her friend and roommate. Andrea gave her a soft smile, straightening in the chair and leaning forward.
"You're going to do great. I promise," she said, reaching for Beth's hand. "You are very talented. Everyone is going to love you. And if they don't, we'll kick their asses." As the smaller blonde giggled, Andrea squeezed her hand reassuringly and let it go. The two finished their coffee and had breakfast, chatting about the diner, the people they knew, what Beth would wear. Her stomach would fill with butterflies, thinking about getting on stage and singing in front of all those strangers tonight. Maybe it'll be slow, she thought, and didn't know why the thought didn't bring her any hope.
She remembered then that Daryl would be there, watching, and felt a steady heat settle over her body. The man had plagued her thoughts all week long; Beth would find herself in the middle of some random task, pouring coffee or wiping down menus, brushing her teeth or folding laundry, and his piercing blue gaze would pop into her mind. She found herself thinking about how the black shirt had looked on him at lunch, how his broad shoulders filled the material, the muscles in his forearm tensing and flexing. Sometimes, if she was alone, Beth would let her mind wander... She found herself thinking about what those strong arms, the long, calloused fingers on his big hands, were capable of.
It had been a long time since Beth thought about a man this much. She had entertained a tiny crush on Rick when he first started coming to the diner, before she met Lori and Carl and realized that even if he would have strayed, she wouldn't want to be the other woman. The homewrecker. That simply wasn't her style. But Daryl was unattached - even if he claimed to not want a relationship. Maybe she didn't, either. Maybe she needed to take a leaf out of Andrea's book, and keep things casual.
She was in the bathroom, her hair sectioned off as she wrapped it around the small-barreled curling iron, when she remembered that Daryl and Andrea knew each other. Hadn't that been what Andrea said when she told her about the audition? She knew the bouncer. And Daryl had used the term 'legs for days' when describing Andrea. Frowning at her reflection, Beth wondered how well they really knew each other... Neither were the cuddly, commitment types - immediately, Beth realized they had probably had sex. For some reason, her stomach clenched and rolled, nauseous.
If he was partial to Andrea's type - tall, blonde, gorgeous, sexy, funny - how in the world would she compare? Beth was small, slender - nothing like Andrea's womanly curves. She felt like a kid sister all over again.
The last thing she needed to worry about right then was what Daryl was thinking of her, and his shared history with Andrea. Shaking her head as though it would get rid of the thoughts, she unwrapped a blonde lock from the curling iron, watching the length bounce in a loose corkskrew. Focusing on getting ready for tonight, she shut all thoughts of bouncers and friends out of her mind and started humming to distract herself. It worked, for a minute.
Daryl arrived early to the bar. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was excited to see Beth sing. Hearing her the other day, she sounded like an angel. Seeing her in any of those dresses from the other day, all dolled-up in the spotlight, giving him every excuse to stare at her out-right without seeming like a creep... Daryl was more than a little riled up. Glenn poured him a whiskey-rocks and gave him a knowing smile, which made the bouncer scowl. Didn't want to get teased by some kid half his age.
Around six, the crowd started to gather. There were a lot of people in the town with money, doctors, lawyers, politicians, athletes. Flanery's was popular for a multitude of reasons, to varying types of people. Those in the know were aware of the mob ties within the bar, they knew who Merle Dixon was and what he did. A lot of customers were associates and wives. Friday nights were always for the wives. Couples filled up the two tops, candles flickering on the linen table-tops as they sipped martinis and old-fashioneds. Glenn and T-Dog, the other bartender, were whipping up drinks and chatting idley with customers that lined the bar, and the server, a short Latina woman named Karen, was delivering drinks as quickly as possible, big smile plastered on her face.
At quarter to seven, Beth breezed through the door. Daryl straightened up, eyes flicking from her curly blonde locks to her black Doc Martens. Even in jeans and her coat, she looked gorgeous. But she was wearing a bit heavier make up than he would have liked - Daryl reminded himself she was wearing stage make-up. She flashed him a tight grin, revealing her nerves, and he felt himself softening into a smile.
"Head downstairs. Your outfits are in the dressing room," he told her, nodding towards the stairway around the corner from the bar. Nodding, she slipped off without a word. Daryl couldn't help but watch her ass as she walked away. His mouth went dry.
Swiping a hand over his beard, Daryl sidled to the end of the bar and set his empty glass down. T-Dog swooped it up and refilled him quickly. Glenn had been watching Beth as well, and winced when he realized Daryl had caught him.
"Don't worry," the Asian kid said, throwing his hands up innocently. "I wasn't like, looking-looking, ya know."
"Whatever," Daryl said, after too long to be casual. He threw in a shrug for good measure as he returned to his post by the door. Inside, he was boiling. Didn't want anyone else to be looking at her like that - but she was a beautiful girl, he reasoned. He would be blind or stupid to believe that someone else wouldn't notice her in the same way that he did. Taking a gulp of the amber liquor, he willed himself to calm down.
Beth held in the squeal as she read the sheet of paper taped to the frosted glass door. Her name. It was her dressing room. She turned the handle and stepped inside, glowing. It wasn't anything special - just a small room with a vanity, the bulbs burning bright, and a small couch tucked into one corner. A rolling-rack held her garment bags, and Beth was quick to shut the door and start pulling off her jacket, toeing off her boots. She had a pair of pumps in her bag, black peep-toe with a slight platform on the front, making her appear taller and her legs longer, more toned. They were a perfect match for the red dress, the same color, and she had picked them specifically for that dress. She had decided that the red number would make a good impression, compliment her on stage. Especially with her hair cascading over her bare shoulders, falling half-way down her back.
Beth felt like a different person as she slipped into her dress. It was the nicest thing she'd ever worn, and she felt a million times prettier than she had going to prom - which, up until this point, was the most beautiful she had ever felt in her life. It was different, now. As she zipped herself into the gown, she felt like a woman. Mature, sexy. The red dress gave her confidence Beth hadn't know she posessed. Studying herself in the mirror, Beth smiled.
There was a knock at the door, and Beth called out, "Come in!" As she straightened and fluffed her curls. She hadn't been expecting the middle-aged, balding man to step through the door. She nearly gasped in surprise.
"Well, well. Miss Beth Greene." He said her name slowly, and she felt herself flush for some reason. He looked rough, the kind of man that had seen a lot. A phrase her father used, "Ten miles of hard road," popped into her mind. Especially when she noticed that his right arm was severed, and instead of a nub or a prostetic, he had a hook. She shivered as the metal glinted in the soft lighting.
"Hi," she said, unsure and her voice high. She unconciously took a step back as he stepped into the room, eyes roving over her figure in the red dress. Beth suddenly felt way underdressed, almost naked, under his gaze.
"Hope you sing as good as you look, girl," the man said, licking his lips. Beth was beginning to tremble, nervous and a little frightened. This man was not friendly, but in a different way. The salacious gaze made her heart pound in her chest, but she didn't want to show weakness in front of him. She didn't want to give him anything he could take advantage of.
"Who are you?" she asked, feeling her spine go rigid as she held herself up. She lifted her chin defiantly, praying that her eyes revealed none of the fear inside of her.
"Merle Dixon," he said, extending his good hand. "The owner of this fine establishment. Your boss." He grinned, but it was more of a sneer, as Beth daintily shook his hand. She didn't know how to act - her gut was telling her to run far, far away from this guy, but her mind was holding her firmly in place. He was well dressed in a nice suit, one that was obviously tailored to him, and expensive black shoes that nearly reflected Beth back in their shine.
"Nice to meet you," Beth lied, forcing a smile.
"Well, it's about that time," Merle said, eyes lingering on her chest before flicking up to her face. There was amusement in those dark depths, like he knew that Beth was uncomfortable and it was funny to him. Nodding, Beth followed him out of the dressing room, ringing her hands nervously. She was going to overdose from adrenoline, it pumped quickly through her veins and was making her pulse thud, deafeningly loud, in her ears. As she ascended the steps to the dining room, she sent a silent prayer to God, hoping he would give her the strength and bravery she would need to get through this. No matter how much she practiced, it was never the same as performing in front of an audience.
Merle lead her to the stage, and Beth tried not to see beyond the bright stage-lights. He introduced her, and there was a smattering of applause as she smiled and stepped up to the mic. Morgan was sitting at the black baby grand, dressed to the nines in a black tuxedo, freshly shaven. He gave her an encouraging smile and she nodded, listening as he counted off the first song of the night.
Taking a deep breath, she swayed to the tune Morgan began. She raised her eyes, searching without thinking for the piercing blue gaze she knew would be on her. When their eyes locked, Beth was shocked at the ferocity of his gaze. Surprisingly, it did nothing to make her feel worse. Instead, she drew from it, opened her mouth, and began to sing.
It was almost midnight when Beth's set finished for the night. The crowd had thinned out some, but when she finally left the stage, she was swarmed at the bar. Daryl stood against the back wall beside the door, watching protectively as she sipped a whiskey-rocks - same fucking drink as him - and smiled, blushed, and chatted with her new adoring fans. She was gorgeous, glowing with the attention and the high of being on stage. But throughout the night, Beth managed to find his eyes, give him a smile that he knew was somehow just for him. It made something loosen in his chest, and he breathed easier as he listened to her sing.
She'd been great up there. It was obvious, from the opening number, that she was meant to be performing. Her voice was husky and sweet, crooning when it needed to be, strong when the lyrics were particularly moving. She sang standards mostly, old songs that everyone knew. Sinatra, Aretha, Motown classics that suited her voice. Daryl was entranced with her, couldn't tear his eyes away. As she mingled at the bar, he took the time to slip outside and light up a cigarette. He hadn't gone out while she was singing - not willing to admit that he didn't want to miss a moment.
It was bitter cold, though it felt good against his heated cheeks. Daryl was thinking about Beth and how screwed he was, how badly he wanted her. Had been a long time since a woman affected him like this, and it was overwhelming. Beth was different, so unlike any woman he had ever met before. He found himself drawn to her, without wanting to be. He wanted to talk to her, wanted to listen to her tell stories about her childhood, wanted to feel her body pressed against him as he held her. Of course, he wanted to feel her sexually, too, wanted to know what sounds she would make as her body was wracked with pleasure. He imagined those big blue eyes, hooded with lust and heated with pleasure. He groaned quietly as he stirred within his slacks.
Pitching his cigarette, he headed back inside and frowned when he found that she was no longer at the bar. Glancing around, deciding that things were mellow enough to disappear for a while, Daryl headed down the old stairwell to the basement. In the harsh flourescent, he saw the door to her dressing room cracked. Huffing a nervous breath, Daryl knocked on the door before toeing it open. Beth was bent over, round ass facing him, as she slipped off her heels.
She glanced over her shoulder, blonde hair sliding like a golden waterfall over her chest. The big grin that lit up her face was impossible not to return.
"Hey," she said, softly. She was a little raspy, but it suited her. Daryl liked it very much.
"Did good," he said, leaning against the door jamb and crossing his arms. She blushed at the compliment and dropped her shoes into her bag. When she reached her side and started pulling the zipper of her dress, Daryl cleared his throat and straightened up. His eyes flew to the cieling, wanting to give her respect but also wanting desperately to see more of that pale flesh.
"Shoot," Beth muttered. "Can you help me? This zipper is stuck."
Daryl stepped into the room, a little uncertain. He watched her yank the fabric and groan in frustration. His hands trembled, just slightly, as he reached for her. Beth lifted her arm, pulling it over her chest, and Daryl held the red material taute as he carefully pulled the zipper. It slid smoothly, and he glanced up at her. Beth gave him a little devious smirk, and he felt the breath slip from his lungs. But he continued to pull it, all the way down to her hip where it ended, and her creamy porcelain skin peeked at him teasingly.
"Thanks," she whispered. She turned, tipping her head back slightly to peer up at him. Daryl felt like she had an invisible leash on him, pulling him in closer, until they were only a few scant inches away from each other. Anxiously, he cleared his throat but resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably.
"Daryl," Beth murmured, and he bit back a groan. His name sounded sinful coming from her sweet little mouth. It felt like the whole world had slipped into slow motion, and he watched her small hand shift to hold her dress up, and the other reached for him, cupping the stubble on his cheeks gingerly before sliding down and back to tangle in his hair. Suddenly, she was on her tip-toes, leaning into him and tugging him down at the same time. Her lips found his, blue eyes slipping shut, and she was kissing him.
It was the lightest, feather-soft kiss he had ever experienced, but somehow it was the sexiest damn thing Daryl had ever felt. He could smell the sweet, sugar-vanilla scent of her skin, could sense the apprehension in her body as she bravely made the first move. He should have pulled away. He should have broken it off, told her that this could never work, would never work, but he didn't. Instead, Daryl tilted his head and felt his hands tangle in her long, thick hair, anchoring Beth to him tightly. The soft mewl as he changed the pressure, sliding his tongue over her lips, was all the encouragement he needed.
With newly ignited passion, Daryl kissed her with all he had. Any thoughts of what they should or shouldn't be doing flew from his mind as her taste bloomed in his mouth, making him groan and clutch her tighter. As her little fingers pulled his hair and her slight body pressed against his own, Daryl realized that it was too late anyway. He'd been drawn to this girl the first moment he laid eyes on her. He was a goner.