-- g o l d e n boy

DEVINSTONE MARINA NEAR CIDER HILL APRIL 18TH ; 8:09 PM w/ @noahr-d​

Cuffing the collar of his jacket, Leo stared off at the docks where his guys were already loading some cargo onto a boat. Business tended to move fast and given the fact that Leo had already been around for a few months, he had made some important connections –– like Noah. While they had a rocky start, eventually they both had a common interest, which was profit. They needed to set aside some pride and reach that end goal without things getting messy. Which was why Leo was standing there, tossing a second burnt-out cigarette to the ground when Noah finally showed up. “Took you long enough” He started, “No bagels?” He was joking. Mostly anyway. “Alright, so we’re gonna need a second shipment by morning. Think you can handle that?” He asked with the raise of his brow. 

He read somewhere, whether it was in college or when he was younger-- hell even sometime after that, that the king was never late, everyone else was simply early. Maybe it was a movie, he couldn’t remember now, but it was at this point in his life, a habit. But never the less, he was the last one everywhere, he sent someone else before him, even if it was jut to look, he could never be too safe. Wandering in, Noah took the place in, moving down towards one of his boats. “Nah, the carbs would pack onto my girlish figure, you know?” He rose a brow before laughing, “what if you’re just early, you think of that?” What was actual timing anyways? Just a suggestion at best. “Oh shit, just on it with the demands, then, hm?” He resisted the urge to last. This was supposed to be a mutual beneficial relationship, not whatever quick witted thing he could think of first before starting a fight. “Not a hi, how are you, whats new?” 

The words that left Noah’s mouth shouldn’t have shocked her, but they did. She knew she messed up, but threatening her with a guy, made her nervous. Fuck. “I shouldn’t - I shouldn’t have said that.” What was she going to do, go to the cops, she was the fucking cop. She couldn’t say anything to anyone, without risking her own reputation. “Yeah, I know the ones, Noah.” She knew them all too well. “I’ll get you what you need. It’s unnecessary to send someone to my house.”

‘It’s cool.” He said, with a shrug, pulling his phone from his back pocket, disinterested in anything she was saying, or doing. It was fun before she started being weird, and now well-- what? Was he supposed to be scared of her or something? He wasn’t. He didn’t care. “No, don’t worry.” He shook his head, taking a step back, “my guy will be by, you won’t have to think about anything. Clearly that’ not you’re strong suit.” He started dialing a number before turning away, “see you never, have a good life.” Noah laughed, “you can go back to being normal or whatever that was before I got here. If that’s what you call normal.” 

               “Well duh.” It was a classless response but the information he offered seemed pointless. “I’m just surprised people are making waffles that way and maybe a little disappointed this is the first time I’m hearing about it.” Now, Lana wasn’t one hundred percent certain, but she was sure she had a waffle maker at home and she could have been enjoying this for some time. “I think a lot of people appreciate the potato. They might actually get glorified more than most other dishes. But they’re a side piece, usually.” Eyeing the food truck, the brunette couldn’t think of anything else and her stomach growled a little louder. “I do. I put ketchup on hasbrowns. Who the hell puts syrup on potatoes? Dude — you’re really weird.”

He liked that she immediately agreed with him. He didn’t want to have to prove her wrong, so that she was right automatically was nice. “How is this the first time you’re hearing about it? Have you not been out here at this hour before?” He asked, almost curious. He could have lived without knowing, but he didn’t know how late the truck was out, maybe it was just an early morning thing, who was he to know? “No, now a days everyone is all mad because it’s a carb, and no one is eating carbs. It’s a whole thing.” Or maybe his one social media outlet was the same thing over and over, but if that was the case, he just had a narrow world view. “Wait what?” His nose scrunched up at her, “no. it’s a breakfast item. You don’t put ketchup on breakfast items.” 

“You’re not a friend, Noah. I haven’t seen you in years.” Tess felt harsh, her words cutting through the air like a sharp knife. The point she was trying to make didn’t seem to affect him in anyway, he was oblivious to how others felt, that was obvious. She couldn’t be seen with him. Devinstone was too small, and people talked and she had stability now, she didn’t want it taken away. Tess smirked, “I’ve been called worse, so I don’t care what the fuck you say about me.” As he mentioned the last part Tess figured he was talking about something else, when in fact he wasn’t, “That was one night - it didn’t mean anything.”

“Oh shit. We’re not?” He rose a brow, stifling a laugh, “I guess I’ll send the money guy to the money then.” And here he thought he was a nice guy, but apparently he was just like any ol regular chump. “Don’t worry. I don’t need an address. He’s good at finding people.” The man rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to be nice anymore. That was over. Fuck that, because apparently she didn’t care, or appreciate it, when she really should have. “Cool.” He said coldly. He was over this conversation. “What night?” He paused, before her words jogged his memory, “girl, I’m not talking about the sex.” God what if he was though? That would have been a little pathetic. “I’m talking about the drugs.” He wiggled his brow at her, “you know the ones.” 

“Because.” She knew that wasn’t a good enough answer for him, and it would just be followed up by even more questions from him. “Because I don’t need one of your customers recognizing me and questioning why the detective is talking to the person they buy from and yada yada – shit gets around in a small town like this.” She crossed her arms against her chest, as if to shield herself from her own overreactions. “Eligible bachelor?” She snorted, as an amused smile crept across her features. Tess knew Noah. Knew he was kind to her, and not like anything she was insinuating towards him. She was just putting up that wall to protect herself, not wishing to risk all that she had worked towards over the years. Almost immediatley her expression changed when he accused her of talking, “Don’t threaten me, Noah. I’m not talking about you because I don’t care what you do.”

“I’m not a keep in the closet sort of friend.” He said to her, before shaking his head, he’d never been in this sort of situation. Someone not wanting to see him in public, like he was some sort of secret. He’d had secret girls before, he’d never been someone’s secret. It was weird to be on the receiving end of that situation. “You mistake me for someone who cares what other people think.” It was a problem most had, but he didn’t, “who cares who sees me doing anything?” He thought he was int he sort of position where he was invincible, sure there had been close calls, but here he was, still standing. “Wow, you’re an asshole.” He scoffed at her, shaking his head yet again. Apparently she was nicer on drugs, but then again, most people were. It was a plus and a minus of his current situation. You could control just about anyone’s mood, then well-- you were controlling their mood so you never really knew someone. “Not a threat Tess, it’s more of a promise.” He shrugged, “but whatever, go on, leave. I’m apparently bad for your reputation now.” He paused, “which is funny, because I can think of a time not too long ago where it was the exact opposite.” 

“Oh come on. If I wasn’t a good time, then why do you hang out with me so much?” She sipped her second drink as she raised a brow as if to emphasize her point. The woman spun around on her bar seat to face the rest of the room. Letting her eyes trace over the mass of people, she took in the drunks and the more sober of the bunch. “Besides, I don’t want to waste my charm and fun on you, when I know you’ll still answer my calls, Reed.” Patting his shoulder she gestured for him to turn around too. “Who do you want? Wing-womaning sounds fun tonight, since I have to wake up early and you don’t.”

“Cause you’re hot.” He shrugged, “why would I hang out with someone if they aren’t at least a little nice to look at?” He asked, “what is that saying? You are the company you keep?” Not that he could change how he looked by being around people, but he was going to let it slide. It at least half made sense. Though, he knew she would rather be know for her smarts than the other, but here she was and in this moment, he didn’t care. “That stings a little Aud, you know that?” A hand went to his chest as he faked being overly sad, “your best moves probably wouldn’t even work on me. So I guess it’s good that you’ve never tried. I would hate for you to be embarrassed.” He shot the brunette a wink before laughing, and shooting back the last bit of his drink. “uh--” He looked around before shaking his head, “You do know I work at like 2 am now right? This is like my mid morning.” 

Why wouldn’t he just go outside like she said? Tess, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, shuddered when he talked about it being more than she expected, which wasn’t a problem, she could easily pay that, but it was just the fact that he was keeping track. She understood it was his job and this was his livelihood, but it was kind of illegal, she knew this, and if other people got wind of her past choices, she’d be let go without question. “Listen,” she said, with a toughness to her voice that was still sheltered by a whisper, “I know you’re not, ok, Noah. It’s just – just I can’t exactly be seen talking to you.” With her confession, she looked around, hoping to not spot anyone she recognized. “Also, I resent that comment - I don’t shit my pants.”

“Why can’t you be seen talking to me.” He looked down at his shirt to make sure something wasn’t on it. He didn’t look bad, in general, he was pretty sure that people liked looking at no matter how vain that was for him to think. Then something else popped into his head, “Tess, sweetheart, I’m an upstanding member of society.” He scoffed “I run a foundation for orphans, god-- I am like, on everyone’s top ten invite to the party list. I’m one of the most eligible bachelors in New York City, or at least that’s what my sister said Page Six said.” He shook his head at her, “everyone would love to be seen in public with me.” His brown hues stared at her for a hot second, “now-- if you’ve been telling people about my hobbies,--” the man paused, leaning in closer, now whispering, “then me and you are definitely going to have to have a conversation elsewhere, and it’ll be a lot less pleasant than you owing me money.” 

               “What the hell — hashbrown waffles?” That was a dangerous thing to say to a woman that had little self control. Hence her being at a food truck so early in the morning to grab some grub. And waiting somewhat impatiently at that. Lana had already been up to the window with a sweet smile and a soft voice, asking them how much longer until they were open. Hashbrown waffles — yeah, that was her stomach growling at that point. “I might be starving but god damn that sounds a lot like my next short-lived lover. But okay, I’ve got a serious question —” Turning to the male, Lana paused in thought, wondering if this was the kind of things someone should actually ask. She could’ve gone the route of being a creep and shadowing this guy to see how he dressed it up but he stunk something fierce. “So, do you put syrup on these waffles or — ketchup?” How in the world was she supposed to focus on him trying something new and his little dilemma when she couldn’t get past the very first option?

“You know you can put anything in a waffle iron, and make it a game of will it waffle.” He said like he had been informing of her some groundbreaking information. Though, the food truck had been there everyday since he could remember, and most of the time, it was his last stop in the morning before he went to bed. “Right?” he instantaneously agreed “a potato is literally the most diverse food, and no one appreciates it.” Well, most people did, or he assumed, but in the moment he could only think of those hashbrowns. “Syrup, all day long. Who puts ketchup on any kind of hasbrown? No thank you.” 

“Okay, but listen, this is important.” Abraham started, placing his drink down on the bar. Perhaps he’d had too many drinks already, he’d lost count after the fourth beer and… was it three or four shots of tequila? He couldn’t remember, but what mattered the most wasn’t how many drinks he’d had, it was getting a pet, right-the-fuck-now. “If you were to recommend a pet, not a cat or a dog, what would you recommend– and why?” | @devinstonestarters​

“An ostrich.” He said with zero hesitation. It was probably the alcohol talking at this point, what was he? five drinks in? It was Saturday, he shouldn’t have been drinking, but here he was, tipping them back until he forgot his name. His normal coping mechanism. “Just listen to me.” Noah continued, “I realize they’re not tame, and not pets at all, but who in the history of the world would ever turn down a chance to ride an ostrich if they could?” He popped his brow up, thinking he was making the most compelling argument known to man, “if you could tame it?” He shook his head with so much passion, really-- he shouldn’t have been talking in this state, “an attach ostrich that with a side hustle of cool rides? Come on.” 

Uh- Summer felt the uncertain uh every time he spoke it- too emotional for her own good, too attached to the people who she thought mattered most. Did she not matter to him, she thought they were friends.  Summer’s teeth rolled against the pink flesh of her cheek as she watched him deny friendship to the group of people- that wasn’t fucking suspicious. She mused her eyes briefly, darting back to the karaoke bar. “Please, you should know better than that.”  Summer tucked her hair behind her ears, “Bachelorette party.” Tilting her chin up at him, Summer let a sigh past her lips, sugary liquor on her breath, and for a second, her head was spinning. “How long have you lived here? I had no idea and honestly, can’t like Noah. It sorta stings.”

He was in the middle of something. People from lives past weren’t really on his radar, especially not right now, when they were drunk. “Oh come on.” He rose his brow, “you could definitely at least be on the show. Half of them can’t even sing.” He shrugged, as he looked her over, clearly he was somehow in the wrong. But when wasn’t he? It was quite literally the story of his life. “Who’s getting married?” He asked, not that he cared, it was just conversation at this point. “A few years?” Five, but he wasn’t going to pinpoint it for her. “Sorry? I didn’t post it on my blog.” He said albeit sarcastically, “didn’t know I needed to send out change of address letters.” 

Ordering another drink, Audrey appreciated the gesture of him calling over the bartender, but knew it wasn’t a favor. She had been around this man long enough to know when to be on her toes. Picking up the glass, she sipped slowly, still no plan of having to roll out of bed in the morning. Audrey groaned. “Can you please stop talking about my students wanting to fuck me? It’s too much for my innocent brain okay.” She shook her head, turning to look at him. The woman thought of her students in such a different way, she was slightly disturbed by the thought. “Drop the subject, Reed.” She raised a brow in a pleading way. Audrey was usually the one to cave when it came to the teasing. She barked much stronger than she bite. “I came here to have a nice wholesome drink with you.”

“You’re literally zero fun.” He groaned when she stopped his line of jokes. He was nothing but consistent when it came to jokes. He would run one into the ground, over and over until it became annoying, but it was who he was as a person, and at this point in his life, he was no where near close to changing. “Why can’t you ever be a good time?” He frowned at her, the most cartoonish, tom and jerry face he could contort his into. “Oh, right.” He said as he brow rose, “super chill, and wholesome. With me. Yes. Of course. How could I forget.” 

               Imprudence clung to Noemi as the years tallied on with little resolve to her troubles. Bills to pay, a chimera of vocational aspirations all crumbling amiss a sense of hackneyed destiny with no reward. Her time in Devinstone was regarded, from herself, as banausic; a mockingly palatial restaurant filling her time as a job — the grandeur of the town now slipping away once more. It prompted such a liquor-embellished dance tonight, tequila straight her championing drink of choice when a puckish bout loomed. Her home was never known for rowdy patrons, any passer-throughs evoking a sense of fresh air when it came to raucous disturbances; a blip of a fight soon ensuing as a fist was tossed out after an onslaught of expletives. 

              It wrought a sour end to the one who threw the first punch, no matter, acute aim allowing the wrongly assumed victim to sucker punch the other and scowl off, leaving Noemi; ever nosy to take charge. She couldn’t help the initial snicker that danced from her lips, hand outstretching in tandem to help the other from the ground, nose now scrunched in mock distaste.

              “You know, if you throw the first punch that usually means you should come out the winner too. You’re lucky I didn’t bet money.” A hairpin curve of a grin pulled at the mien, free hand reaching for napkins to blot the blood which now flowed from the other, “You know them?” A follow up inquiry, candid to her prying ways as she nodded towards the bundle of napkins, a silent request asking if she had the go ahead to care for their mild wounds, an uncharacteristic gesture for Noemi. 

He had never been known for making great choices. It was a fault, but it wasn’t something he was ever going to work on. If you asked him, it made life interesting, at well-- that’s what the man liked, an interesting life. One of those bad choices coming his way, only to punch him square in the jaw. Could he have fought back, yeah-- but should he have slept with the man’s girlfriend, no. It was the earth’s way of evening the score, and he wasn’t about to punch the man back. Noah deserved it. A hand went up to rub his jaw as he turned around, only to see he was starring in the sidewalk show. “Well--” He said, as he faced Noemi, maybe the last person he wanted to see watch him get hit, “if you want me to call him back over, we can start over. Maybe you can make a buck.” Noah rolled his eyes before shaking his head, “no, not really.” He shrugged, “I know his girlfriend though.”