“Black Velvet”

Chapter One

You’ve heard the idiom, “stuck between a rock and a hard place,” right? Most of the people who’ve already read this have. Regardless, that was my motto for about a year or so. A bunch of shit decided to happen at once, which is never, ever a good thing.

Unless you happen to be proposed to, get your braces off, and learn that your band just got signed to a great label. Which, of course, none of those happened to me. I’m still single as fuck. My mouth is still full of the stupid metal brackets I’ve had since I was ten (yes, my teeth were that horrible). And my band still sucks.

But hey, who’s counting, right?

The things that happened to me weren’t that bad…

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“Peyton Marshall, get down here this instant!”

I clicked my tongue against my teeth as I pulled the covers over my head. Just five more minutes… I thought to myself, even though I knew there was no arguing with Pa. He ruled our roost with an iron fist, not that anyone cared. Tucker, my older brother and best friend, was gone most of the time. And my mother was hard pressed to be anything but a good, quiet, obedient wife.

“Don’t make me come get you, boy!” My father yelled up the stairs again. I could see him in my mind’s eye, leaning heavily against the white and wood railing, eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed. There would be a little vein in his forehead that would be pulsating.

Oh, and not to mention that he would have his Speedo on.

Gross, right?

Well, my pa was a bit different from the farmers, sales clerks, and FedEx workers in our small town: he was a professional body builder.

“Peyton Marshall, don’t make me tell you again!”

Groaning, I rolled over. It was the fucking butt crack of dawn! Hello! Has he not ever heard of the words “sleeping in?”

“Peyton!”

Guess not.

“You’d better go, Pey.”

I moaned in protest again, “Go back to bed, Tuck. Don’t encourage him.”

My brother chuckled, and I rolled to face him. He was leaning in the doorway, smirking at me. I noticed that he had his fancy spiral ring in his lip this morning.

“Your hair is looking exceptionally groomed today,” I mumbled against my pillow. Tucker cheesed a smile, showing off his beautiful white teeth. He had gotten his braces off almost a year ago, after having them on for just six months.

I, however, had had mine on for almost seven years. Yeah, like I said, my teeth were fucked.

Tucker tucked his iPod into the tiny pockets of his low-waisted jeans, “You really should get dressed.”

“It’s still fucking dark, Tucker,” I whined, kicking my feet under the covers. “Not to mention it’s probably, like, negative twenty degrees outside. I don’t want my nuts to shrivel up and die, thanks.”

My brother sat down on the edge of my bed, pulling the covers back, much to my protests, “He supports you and your dorky habits. Put up with his, PeyPey.”

“Fine,” I grunted, throwing back the blankets all the way. Tucker feigned embarrassment as my boxers came into view, and covered his eyes. I threw a pillow at him.

Peyton- 1.

Tucker- 0.

“You can be a bitch, you know that right?” Tuck ran his tongue across his lip ring, bright green eyes narrowed. “Now get up. Don’t make him come up here and snap your twig ass.”

“You’re one to talk,” I sat up, quirking an eyebrow at my brother’s outfit. He had on a tailored jacket over a navy blue fishnet, long-sleeved shirt. The first two and last two buttons on the jacket were undone, allowing peeks at his flesh. You could see his bellybutton ring, too. Skinny, safety pin-filled pants and combat boots completed his outfit.

As queer as he looked (which was weird, because I was the flamer of the two of us), I had to give him props that he matched. His hair was dyed black (unlike my own natural blondish-brown locks), with one stripe of dark blue and one stripe of teal blue in it.

We both had inherited out mother’s slight build, even though Tucker was at least four or so inches taller than me. Hell, everyone was taller than me. I hit 5’4” if I was lucky.

Tucker stood over me, still smirking, “I may be thin, but I can still kick your ass. Don’t mess with me, boy.” He did his best impression of dad, which made me make fake puking noises in his general direction. That, obviously, pissed him off, and he tackled be back against my bed.

“Fuck!” I squeaked as my head came in contact with the wall that just happened to be parallel with my bed. Tuck let up a little bit, but finally pinned my arms down as he sat on my chest. “Fine, you mammoth, you win. Not get offa me.”

My brother grinned triumphantly, “You’ll always be two years younger than me, Peyton. Therefore, you’ll always lose.” He stuck out his tongue and I bit the air threateningly.

Tucker swung his legs over the edge of my bed, then scowled, “You know, if you wouldn’t have your bed so close to the stupid wall, you wouldn’t have hit your head.”

I just rubbed the back of my skull and flipped him off.

“Just get your skinny little behind down stairs. We’re going to Collierville today,” Tuck winked back at me before I threw another pillow at him. He knew damn well that I didn’t want to go to Collierville. My old boyfriend moved there about five months ago.

We had dated for three years.

Sighing, I pulled out the suitcase that I had packed a couple of nights ago. I slaved over what to pack. What if I saw him? Cade was the most important person in my life… for three years… I actually cared what I looked like. I would mull over whether or not my hair was all the right length, or if my clothes were completely wrinkle-free.

I even wore our favourite colours in alternating bands around the brackets of my braces.

It sucked, though, when he broke up with me and I still had three weeks before I could change them. I got a lot of questions and was the brunt of a lot of jokes. Cade informed me that he was moving to Collierville.

And that he had a girlfriend.

He said that they had reconnected over the internet, and they had dated before he moved to Horn Lake (which where I was at the moment, if you aren’t following).

Well, there wasn’t much I could do at the moment, I figured, so I slipped on some comfy shorts, a loose-fitting band tee that I had gotten at a concert about ten years ago (I hadn’t changed much, really). Even though the band, Hanson, was frowned upon by the rap-loving teens now, I was still a dedicated fan. I awaited more albums.

“Pey!”

I rolled my eyes at the sound of Tucker’s voice, grabbed my suitcase, slipped on my Cons, and barreled down the stairs.

Mom, Pa, and Tucker were waiting in the foyer. Pa looked like he was ready to punch me through the door if I didn’t hurry, and I shot a grin to him.

“We’re going to be late, thanks to you,” Pa opened the door and stalked out, apparently not in his Speedo. Maybe he just didn’t want to be seen in public all greased up and scantily clad.

I didn’t blame him if that was the case.

“Sorry if I didn’t want to go on this horribly boring trip to watch oily bohunks trot along the stage, their banana hammocks out there for everyone to see,” I rolled my eyes. Beefy guys weren’t my “thing” anyway.

Tucker chortled at my choice of words, and closed the door behind us all.

“We’re still going to get Gage, right?” I hurled my suitcase into the backmost seat in our Suburban (what an uneconomic car, right?), and climbed in after it. The only thing that made these trips even remotely worth it was the fact that my parents loved my best friend, Gage Hoblitzell, and most of the time, he went with us. Tucker occasionally had a friend go, but I think he and Gage had more fun that he and I did.

Pa sighed, “Of course. You know I can’t have a weekend without my favourite son.”

Tucker put his hand, which was in the shape of a gun, to his temple at Pa’s joke. But I knew they really loved Gage. They wouldn’t put up with his shit (namely his AFK Mom and fighting siblings) if they didn’t.

And, I know it seems like my Pa was a hardass. Well, he rather was. But he was a great guy and when we got along, we got along really well.

Pa pulled into Gage’s driveway, and I saw him bound out of the trailer he lived in, all goofy smile and bright eyes. Despite his pretty crappy home life, Gage was a really dependable and sweet guy. He helped me through losing Cade, and all of the other shit that life had put me through throughout the years.

“Hello family!” Gage grinned ear to ear as Tucker opened the door for my friend. Tossing his duffle bag to me, he climbed in. Gage sat down beside me as my parents asked him how he was. “Eh, okay. Gordon and Gilbert were fighting again, but this time, it was over a girl. That, of course, doesn’t apply to me,” he paused to giggle, “so I was spared this time.”

Mom had turned back in her seat to smile at Gage. My family was really supportive of him, too, which was a nice thing. Gage told me once that he felt like he belonged with us. Like he should’ve been born as my brother instead of my best friend.

When he says things like that, I can’t help but cry.

It’s pathetic and stupid, I know. But Gage has seen me at my best and at my worst, and he’s never once bagged on me for it. I know I can trust him, and that’s one of the most important things in the world to me.

Gosh, now I sound like a girl.

“So we’re really going to Collierville this time?” Gage whispered to me, his green eyes alight with worry. Gage helped me through my whole ordeal with Cade, and even though Gage had a “thing” for the love of my life, he sucked it up and held me as I cried through the nights.

I took out a book, shoving my glasses further up my nose as we turned onto the highway, “Shut up Gage.”

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AN: New story. You know the drill. :Dd