Special Episode: Decisions
This episode is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here.
Noah leans back against the Corvette. Grant to his left, Ralph at his back.
The guy they’re doing business with is really starting to burn up the last of Noah’s patience. He wishes that Ralph wouldn’t sell in bulk to this type of guy. Dudes who stock up before their big-ass summer parties like the end of the world is coming, and this is their last chance to get fucked up.
They’re so frustrating to deal with. Half the time they don’t even know what they’re buying.
And this one seems to think he can negotiate with them, the poor soul.
“I’ll give you two hundred,” he says, tucking his designer sunglasses into his polo shirt. “That’s all I can afford, honestly.”
From behind Noah, Ralph - who is stretched out on the hood of the Corvette like he’s barely paying attention - lets out a quiet little snicker of laughter.
That’s all he’s contributed to this conversation so far, but it’s enough to unsettle Rich Guy. His eyes dart nervously to Ralph, then back to Noah.
“Two-fifty,” he tries.
Noah takes his cigarette from his mouth, shakes his head.
Rich Guy falters further. “Three, but that’s it.”
“You should probably make up your mind about whether or not you want this stuff, man.” Noah breathes out a slow, continuous stream of smoke as he speaks. “We can stay here all night doing this, but I bet you want to get home. This area isn’t safe after dark, you know?”
It’s already very late, well past midnight. The bar they’re parked next to is busy tonight, but it’s the only lit-up building for miles around.
It’s real dark out, practically pitch-black.
Rich Guy turns, his gaze roaming over the landscape. He suddenly seems to realize that he’s more or less alone with Noah, Ralph, and Grant.
The original, agreed-upon amount is hastily shoved into Noah’s hands. Noah counts it to the last bill, then nods at Grant, who tosses a sealed bag across the car. Rich Guy catches it, drops it, and has to bend over to scoop it up. Ralph lets out another little laugh, and Jesus Christ, Noah is actually starting to feel bad for this poor dumbass.
He watches silently as Rich Guy becomes Running Guy. Dude hustles back to his car and squeals out of the parking lot like they might chase him.
Noah bites the inside of his cheek, then takes an irritated drag of his cig.
It used to be fun, helping Ralph with his business. In high school it made them a lot of friends. Got them invited to every party, no matter how badly they’d behaved at the last one. But maybe Noah’s been selling for too long. It just feels like work, now, and not particularly rewarding work.
He kinda misses actually getting to like, fix shit. What the fuck did he go to trade school for, if he’s not using anything he learned there?
Ralph hops down from the Corvette and holds out two fingers. Noah wordlessly places the cash between them, then watches as it all disappears into Ralph’s wallet.
“Alright, boys.” Ralph rubs his hands together, nods at the bar. “Looks like we’ve got some funds to throw at a tab. Who wants a drink?”
Noah tosses his cig and follows behind Grant as they set off for the door. He’s been smoking more than usual lately, because he’s been stressed out nonstop. His eyes roam over the parking lot, his fingers fidgeting with the note in his pocket.
He’s been in a seriously dark mood for days on end. Or is it longer than that? The shit feels like weeks, months...
Years, a quiet voice in his head says, before he can squash it down.
Noah only started hearing that voice after he stopped spending every day high enough to put a scratch in the sky, and the implications of what it keeps trying to tell him are bugging him out.
It can’t be years since he’s been actually, genuinely happy. That shit would be crazy. It can’t be, so. That’s that.
But he's sick of being in this fucking mood. He’s been in a constant state of okay, that’s enough, I’d really like to feel better now, for way too damn long.
He does feel better when he’s rolling or otherwise fucked up, but since that night in the woods, the idea of touching the stuff makes him feel sick.
So now suddenly he’s got all this time to think clearly, and he doesn’t fucking want it.
Might be the note in his pocket that’s making him feel sick, actually. Hard to tell.
The written threat that Cam made against Noah’s sister is really messing with him.
Noelle hasn’t talked to Noah in ages. She won’t talk to him, he’s pretty sure, even if he hasn’t tried in a while. But the idea that she could get hurt because of something stupid that he did… the idea of her hurt at all, honestly…
Ralph told Noah not to worry about it. All empty threats to get the Corvette back, he said. Still, Noah can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like Cam’s scribbled words are printed on the inside of his goddamn eyelids. It’s distracting him, eating him up.
He comes back to the present when the noise of the bar hits him, pulls him out of his thoughts. He stops just inside the door, scoping the place out before they go in.
The bar is mad busy tonight, lots of people here - but no known enemies.
Ralph and Grant start slamming drinks back, buoyed up by the loud energy of the place. Noah would normally be right there with them, but he’s so edgy right now, has been ever since they took the car. He feels like Cam and his guys are gonna report it stolen just out of spite, run a skiptrace on Ralph, show up out of nowhere…
“Could you lighten up?” Ralph shouts over the noise, having slipped through the crowd with a new round of drinks. “Here, have this.”
He sits down and shoves a glass across the table at Noah, who stares at it with growing frustration.
Ralph has known him since they were freshmen. He knows that Noah’s drink of choice is a Jack and Coke, not whatever this colorful, fruit-flavored fuckin’ drink he brought over is.
These little things are annoying the hell out of Noah more and more recently. He knows the shit is intentional. Ralph has a memory like a steel trap. He knew exactly what he was doing when he ordered this, even if he’s drunk.
Either he didn’t care enough to order the right thing, or he ordered the wrong thing on purpose. Or - the most likely option - he didn’t buy Noah anything, and just swiped somebody else’s drink.
Noah looks up at him, burning with frustration, but tries to stay focused. Grant is still up at the bar. Maybe this is a good time to talk to Ralph about the car, about Cam.
Before he can say anything, Ralph leans across the table and catches Noah’s wrist, looks down at it.
“New stick-n-poke turned out great, man,” he says. “One of your best.”
Noah blinks in surprise, feeling a spike of happiness for the first time in too long.
“Oh, yeah?” he asks brightly, actually starting to smile. “You know, I liked how this one came out, too, it took me a really long time…”
He fades off, realizing that the compliment wasn’t genuine. He doesn’t know how he missed the sarcasm in Ralph’s eyes.
Noah lets out a loud, annoyed groan, to a burst of laughter from Ralph. He wrenches his hand back, then almost fucks up by taking a big angry gulp of whatever syrupy garbage Ralph brought him from the bar. Stops himself just in time.
Ralph rolls his eyes when Noah won’t laugh with him.
“Just trying to lighten the mood, man,” he says. “Relax, alright? It was a joke. Honestly, the new ink looks good, it’s great.”
Noah closes his eyes for a second, thinks of Noelle.
“Ralph, listen,” he tries. “We said we were gonna stop going out for a while, so what are we doing here? Cam and those guys might have seriously fucked you up if Aiden and Keane hadn’t-”
“Don’t even say those names, man,” Ralph interrupts sharply, his grin dropping away. “What the fuck did I tell you about that? Are you trying to piss me off?”
“No, I just think that we should-”
“Your job isn’t to think, Noah. That’s not why I brought you into my fucking business.”
But we’re friends, too, Noah wants to say. It’s not about business. We’re friends. We have been for ages, remember?
Ralph’s eyes flick up above Noah’s head, focused on the bar again. Noah turns and sees Grant giving Ralph a signal that means someone is looking to buy. Ralph nods at him, gets to his feet, and then pauses.
He reaches into his pocket, covertly slides a pill across the table to Noah.
“Take that, maybe you’ll actually be fun to cruise with again,” he shouts over the din of the bar. “Because you’ve been lame as fuck lately, and I’m starting to wonder if it’s even worth keeping you around.”
He turns, disappears into the crowd. Noah watches him go, then looks down at the pill.
Like - he wants to be fun. He’s not trying to be a bummer, or anything… and this always used to make him feel better.
He pops the pill into his mouth, dry-swallows it. Sits there in silence for a minute.
That horrible night he spent all by himself in the forest comes crashing back into his mind, riding a surge of instant regret.
Noah slips into the bathroom, brings the pill back up, and rinses out his mouth. Goes back to the table and sits there alone, somehow feeling worse than he did before.
He wishes that Aiden was here. He was the only one who used to hang with Noah when he got in these moods.
It kind of - really sucks, the way things are between him and Aiden right now. It’s yet another thing bringing Noah down.
He gave up on hoping that Aiden might come back to Ketterbridge like, five or so years into him being gone. Honestly, Noah couldn’t fucking believe it when he got the news. He was so stoked to have an old friend back - to have this old friend back - and what did he do? Immediately converted him from an old friend into a new enemy.
He knows that Aiden is really pissed at him about whatever happened at Angie’s party. Noah doesn’t remember it, but there’s a faint twinge of guilt he can trace back to that memory he doesn’t have, so. Aiden is probably right to feel that way.
Noah realizes abruptly that he’s just sitting there, alone and silent, at an empty table. No wonder Ralph is sick of him. He’s not a good time to be around, right now.
He tries to shake it all off. Maybe he should get a drink, or-
Noah blinks in surprise as a girl suddenly drops into his lap, her drink sloshing a little bit onto his jeans. He automatically puts an arm around her, so she doesn’t fall.
“Hey,” she giggles, smiling at him. “You’re cute, aren’t you? Like - scary, but cute! Why are you sitting here all by yourself? Did you come here alone?” Another sparkling little laugh. “Do you need a friend? I’d like to volunteer, if so.”
Noah isn’t super interested in hooking up with strangers. To each their own, it’s just never been his thing. But this is still an improvement to his night, and he perks up a bit. She doesn’t have to stay a stranger.
He gets a better look at her eyes, sees how drunk she is, and deflates instantly. She doesn’t need any new friends, she needs to go home.
Sucks, honestly. She’s pretty, and she’s the first warm smile that’s been directed at him in a minute.
“Did you come here alone?” he asks.
She shakes her head no, points towards the bar. Noah turns to look, and sees a small cluster of girls gathered there.
He nods at them. “Those your friends?”
“Mhm!”
“Let’s go say hi to them, yeah?”
“Okay!”
Noah helps her to her feet, threads his fingers through hers, and leads her across the bar. Returns her to her friends, who quickly see that she’s overdone it. They all take off together, collectively deciding to call it a night.
As soon as they move for the door, Noah freezes, spotting something through the now-empty space in the crowd that they were occupying.
It’s Cam, and he’s got three huge fucking guys with him. They’re all standing by the wall, eyes scanning the bar.
Noah whips around to put his back to them, then tugs his hood up over his hair. He starts roving his eyes over the crowd, too, trying to pinpoint Ralph and Grant.
He spots them across the bar. Really not in an optimal place, all the way on the opposite end from the door. Still, he starts working his way through the crowd towards them, as fast as he can go without attracting attention.
Again, he wishes that Aiden was here. But you work with what you have.
Ralph and Grant are closing up a deal when Noah finally squeezes his way through the crush of bodies and reaches Ralph’s side.
“Let’s go,” he murmurs, urgently and quietly, without preamble.
They’ve been doing this kind of dangerous work together long enough that nothing more needs to be said.
Ralph and Grant immediately put away the stuff they had out and head for the door. Noah sticks behind them, since he’s the only one who actually has eyes on Cam, actually knows what the problem is.
They’re almost to the door, now, but Noah’s stomach is jumping with raw, chittering anxiety. Grant is all sleepy from his particular mixture of booze and pills, and Ralph is hammered. There’s no way they’re going to do well against Cam if he spots them -
“Hey!” an angry voice shouts. “I see you, Lanham!”
Ralph makes the mistake of turning his head at the sound of his name. Before Noah can shove him to face forward again, Cam and all three of his goons are rushing towards them.
“Fuck,” Noah whispers, and then, much louder - “Run!”
They burst into movement together, making for the exit.
Ralph leads the way, and Grant is right behind him. Neither of them turns to check on Noah, who gets separated and cut off from them in the crowd. Left behind, only a few feet ahead of Cam and his guys. He can see Grant and Ralph getting farther and farther away from him.
Noah really doesn’t want to do it, but he scrambles up onto the bartop and sprints down it to catch up with them, kicking over glasses and earning the outrage of everybody sitting there.
“Get down from there, asshole!” he hears the bouncer roar, right as he leaps back onto the ground behind Grant.
He twists to check on Cam, just in time to see him scoop a bottle out from behind the bar and hurl it at the back of Ralph’s head.
Noah shoulders Ralph out of the way, and ends up taking the bottle to his own ribs. Feels it shatter against his back.
He gasps at the impact, afraid it’s going to put his fucking lights out - but manages to stagger onwards.
The three of them burst through the door of the bar and hit the curb. As one, they sprint for the Corvette.
Noah is still in the back, making sure that Grant keeps up, bits of broken glass raining down from the folds of his hoodie.
For all the trouble the Corvette has caused them, at least she’s fast as fuck at getting them out of it. Noah gets her engine going, and she roars to life, ready to pounce onto the road. Cam and his guys are close behind, making for their own car. Noah expends a few precious seconds making sure that Grant and Ralph are both safely in the car with him, then tears out onto the street.
Cam’s ride is fast, too, and it’s right behind them, so Noah gambles on a sharp U-turn way too tight for this narrow street. Somehow he manages to pull it off. He accelerates like their lives depend on it, because maybe they fucking do, who knows?
Cam doesn’t manage to make the same turn. His wheels get stuck in the mud, spinning uselessly.
Noah is still breathing hard and fast long after Cam’s car is swallowed up by the darkness.
He leaves one hand on the wheel. With the other, he feels his ribs, assessing the damage. It’s sore like a motherfucker, and he’s going to have a king-sized bruise in the morning. But nothing feels broken, and his hand doesn’t come away with blood on it.
He glances over at Ralph, who doesn’t turn to meet his gaze.
Aren’t you gonna ask if I’m okay? he thinks, but doesn’t say out loud.
Grant is too fucked up to be all that worried about what just happened. He’s practically nodding off in the backseat.
“Ralph.” Noah tries to keep his voice from shaking, but can’t do it. “We - we have to give the ‘vette back, man. This is too much. It’s not worth it.”
Ralph looked like he was sort of thinking the same thing, but the moment that Noah says it, he’s furious.
“Noah,” he answers, slowly and icily, “Stop acting like you’re the one who makes the goddamn decisions around here. I’ve had enough of it, and I mean it.”
He says it in a this is your last warning kind of way.
Unnerved in that way Ralph gets him, Noah doesn’t answer. Instead, he lapses into silent thought for the rest of the drive home.
Aiden coming back to Ketterbridge has Noah remembering old times. Aiden would always tell him not to let Ralph boss him around, and Noah never really felt like that’s what he was doing. He was just being flexible, chill, going with the flow…
But now all that stuff Aiden used to say is knocking around in Noah’s brain. And what Keane said, too, annoyingly enough.
Noah really doesn’t have to let Ralph make every decision. Like - why? Why should he? Especially when he’s so clearly making a bad one?
Noah thinks of his sister again, his fingers tightening around the wheel.
He’ll put up with pretty much anything, but he’s never been one to sit back when someone he loves needs him.
~~~~
Later that night, Noah watches Ralph and Grant. They’re both passed out, on the couch and on the floor, respectively.
But really he’s just watching Ralph. Thinking hard.
Toying with the keys of the Corvette.
It puts ice in Noah’s veins, to think of how Ralph will react to what he’s about to do.
He gets to his feet, tugs on his boots - sticky with booze from all the drinks he kicked over - and heads outside. He stops in front of the Corvette, staring down at it.
He can’t believe he’s actually going to do this. That he’s decided to do this, with nobody else’s input. Weirdly enough, a bright, electric trill of excitement sparks through him.
He’s going to start making his own decisions again, and this is a huge one to kick that off with.
Feels right. Noah’s always liked living large.
Yeah, Ralph is going to be livid. But Noah knows that deep down, beneath all the bullshit, Ralph must have that same kind of fraternal love for Noah that Noah has for him. Like, he’s got to. They’re brothers, basically, friends since they were kids, had each other’s backs through everything. Ralph will be pissed, but they’ll talk it out. After all this time, their bond is pretty much unbreakable, right?
Still, Noah can’t shake this feeling in his heart that giving the Corvette back is going to change everything. That’s - terrifying, honestly.
Everything’s going to be okay, he thinks, closing his eyes. This is the right decision to make. It’s the right thing to do. I know it is.
I know it.
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