#don’t have anything to threaten u with but consider: future blackmail | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

btschooseafic · 3 years

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Hey you, what’s your dream?

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: The boys start filming vlogs.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts. [Masterlist]

Track 15: First log

Video Phone- Beyoncé ft. Lady Gaga, William Burke

“On your video phone (Make a cameo)

Tape me on your video phone (I can handle you)”

December 2012

“Okay, well, that takes care of the budget section of our meeting,” Aviva said, looking up from her papers. Jimin and Taehyung were playing some kind of hand game. Jin was watching something on his phone. Yoongi and Jungkook were napping on Jin’s shoulders. Namjoon was slumped over a bit and wearing sunglasses indoors, so she was pretty sure he was sleeping as well. Hoseok had been in the bathroom for over ten minutes now, but she was going to give him the benefit of the doubt and say he was really constipated or something. She let out a long breath. “Seriously, guys?”

“Hmmm?” Jin looked up at her, smiling innocently. “I’ll wash the dishes in the morning.” Aviva rubbed her temples.

“Yeah, you said that already. We already finished the cleaning schedule.”

“Oh.” He blinked at her. “Then… what were we talking about?” He looked at Taehyung and Jimin, who shrugged.

“The budget,” she said. “Which you might’ve known if you had actually been paying attention to me instead of playing on your phone.” Jin’s smile turned a little sheepish. “Ah, but you three get credit for staying awake at least.”

“I’m awake,” Yoongi said. Jin jolted.

“Aish.” He rubbed his chest. “Min Yoongi-yah, don’t scare me like that!”

“Boo,” Yoongi muttered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He looked at Aviva, his gaze suddenly so alert it made her blush. He smirked. “I’ll work on a grocery budget with hyung so you don’t have to.”

“Thanks, Yoongi-yah.” She let out a breath of relief. “That would be a big help. Now, let’s wake the others up, cause they actually really need to hear this next part.”

“Hmm.” He kicked Namjoon’s shoulder. “Joon, wake up.”

“Wh-what?” Namjoon sat up straight and looked around. “Why’s it so dark in here?”

The others snickered.

“Maybe these?” Tae suggested, stealing his sunglasses and putting them on his face instead. “Wow, yeah, these are dark. How do you see in these things?”

“I’ll wake Jungkookie up,” Jimin offered, springing up and shoving the youngest boy. “Kookie, time to wake up!” Jungkook just groaned.

“He’s so cute,” Jin cooed, cradling him under his arm.

“JK, if you don’t wake up right now, I’m going to take a picture of Jin-oppa cradling you like a baby and send it to Jen,” Aviva threatened.

Jungkook sat up abruptly, nearly knocking his head into Jin’s.

“I’m awake! Don’t do it!”

“Blackmail?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow at her.

“The tricky part is, she’d probably think it was really cute,” Aviva admitted.

“Yeah, but cute in what way?” Jungkook thought aloud. “Probably not the right way…”

“What’d I miss?” Hoseok asked, walking back into the room.

“Doesn’t matter,” Aviva said. “Everybody else missed it as well…” She paused as Yoongi caught her eye. “…With the exception of Yoongi-oppa who gets a gold star.” Yoongi smiled smugly.

“Kinky,” Hoseok said appreciatively. Aviva blinked at him.

“…How?”

“I don’t want to know,” Yoongi said, waving his hand as Hoseok opened his mouth again. Hoseok shrugged.

“Anyway,” Aviva said loudly. “Special announcement—Youtube finally gave us permission for an official channel, so I’d like for you all to start posting vlogs.” They blinked at her. “Video logs.”

“Logs…” Jungkook stared at her uncertainly.

“Just talk to the camera,” Aviva said. “About what you did today, or what your hopes for the future are.” Namjoon grimaced, shaking his head. “Joon, I know you like to write silly raps just for fun sometimes, maybe you could record one of those? I could edit them in sort of a meme format, and that should attract some viewership.” Understanding passed over Jungkook’s face. Aviva pointed at Jimin and Hoseok. “And you two can post routines that wouldn’t be spoiling any original content.”

“Ah, like, coming soon, Bangtan boys,” Hoseok said the last part in a surprisingly deep voice. Aviva blinked.

“Hobi, you ever considered voice acting?”

“Eh?”

She shook her head. “But I’m getting sidetracked… anyway, I’d like you each to get me a video by the end of the week.”

“The end of the week!” Jungkook repeated worriedly.

“It doesn’t have to be anything special,” she told him. “Just be sure to record it in the studio, there’s the best soundproofing in there.”

“Beep—Wrong,” Taehyung said. “It’s the Bangtan Room, not the studio!”

“I’ll call it the Bangtan Room if you actually pay attention during next week’s meeting,” Aviva offered. Taehyung rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“You drive a hard bargain, manager-noona.”

She sighed.

“But, who would want to know what we do all day?” Jimin wondered.

“Come to think of it, I’m not comfortable in front of the camera… I’m not sure I can do it,” Jungkook thought.

“I could be in the background out of the shot to keep you company,” Aviva offered. He frowned at her.

“Yeah, I think that would only make it worse.”

“Jungkook-ah, you’re going to be an idol, get used to it,” Yoongi said bluntly. Jungkook grimaced. “Unless you want to be treated like a baby forever?”

“No.” Jungkook’s brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry,” Jin said. “I’ll show you how to do it. Watch and learn!”

“…What, now?” Jungkook wondered, as no one moved.

“Ah… maybe tomorrow,” Jin thought.

“Okay.” Aviva gave him a thumb’s up. “Let’s meet at the studio around this time tomorrow and see how it’s going.” Jin smiled nervously. “Yoongi-oppa, text me some kind of treat you want and I’ll bring it for you.”

“Hmm, now I kind of want to know what Hobi thought a gold star meant,” Yoongi said thoughtfully. Hoseok opened his mouth again.

“Nope.” Aviva made an X with her arms.

‘Have you decided what you want?’ Aviva texted Yoongi first thing in the morning before she even got out of bed.

‘…I wanna eat meat.’

‘You always do! But remember the budget…’

‘right. ㅠ.ㅠ ok. Can I be exempt from logs for the next couple of weeks? I can do a product review of the new soundboard that I’m getting, but it hasn’t come yet.’

‘Ok. The viewers will miss out on your cute face, though,’ she texted before she thought too much about it. She froze. Shit.

‘Shut up >//<, u r the cute one.’

She laughed. ‘No, it definitely you. Just look at that emoji usage!’

‘u text like my grandma.’

‘u live like a grandpa.’

‘I see, so we match well together~’

She laughed again. It wouldn’t be too bad if not everyone got a log out this week. As long as two of three members posted something, that would be good. But was that really enough of a treat for Yoongi? She hadn’t done any baking in a while, and if she did something with ingredients she already had, it wouldn’t break the budget.

‘Do you like sweet things?’ She texted, and then got up to get dressed and start the day. Her phone buzzed. She finished getting dressed and looked at it.

‘d(^_^)b Duh. ♡.♡ Check the name.’

‘I thought it had something to do with basketball?’

‘…It does. I was just… guess I’ve spent too much time with hyung. ^^; ’

Aviva snorted.

That morning, Hoseok had somehow convinced Yoongi to join him at a nearby basketball court. They were shooting hoops, and Hoseok was frustrated, because Yoongi was winning, even though he kept taking breaks to look at his phone. He kept smiling at it, and at one point Hoseok even thought he blushed, although that might’ve been from the exercise.

“Who are you texting with?” He wanted to know.

“Your mom,” Yoongi said, without looking at him. Hoseok whipped at his ass with his sweat towel. Yoongi attempted to fight back, but Hoseok caught the towel, holding it as he smirked.

“Ah. I bet it’s Avi-yah.” He leaned over closer, trying to get a look at Yoongi’s phone screen. “What did she say that made you blush like that? Or was it a naughty photo?”

“That would be sexual harassment, technically, I think,” he said, twisting away from Hoseok, trying to keep his phone hidden. “Since she’s our manager.”

“Not if it’s totally consensual,” Hoseok thought, grabbing at the phone. Yoongi finally just shoved his phone in his bag.

“Let’s go back to the dorm and shower before she gets there,” he said.

“You don’t want her to see you all sweaty and messy?” Hoseok teased. Yoongi shot him a weird look.

“She’s seen me after dance practice plenty of times.”

“Ah, right.”

They walked out of the court, continuing down the street towards the dorm.

“Anyway, she doesn’t seem like the type,” Yoongi said, so quietly Hoseok almost didn’t hear him.

“To want to see you sweaty?” He wondered, confused. Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“To take pictures like that.”

Hoseok blinked. “Eh? You were still thinking about that?” Hoseok grinned. Yoongi was definitely blushing this time. “It’s always the quiet ones. Like, I bet you’re pretty kinky.”

“Depends who I’m with,” he said honestly.

“Ah.” Hoseok nodded. “You’re a switch.” Yoongi stared at him.

“…Can I consensually murder you?”

“What? No! How would that even…” Hoseok stopped suddenly as a familiar car pulled up alongside them.

The window rolled down and Aviva waved at them.

“Morning, boys. Need a lift?”

“Sure!” Hoseok said, going to open the passenger seat door.

“Ah, no, I have stuff on the seat,” she told him. “Sit in the back.”

“Okay, okay.” They got in the back. “What’s on the seat?” He wondered, trying to lean forward to see.

“Buckle your seatbelt, Hobi,” she ordered.

“I got it.” Yoongi buckled him in.

“…They’re cookies I made for Yoongi-oppa,” she said quietly. Yoongi blinked, and then a smile spread over his face.

“What? Hyung doesn’t deserve cookies,” Hoseok protested. “He threatened to murder me!”

“Yeah, cause he was saying dirty stuff about you again, Siljangnim,” Yoongi told her, without even hesitating. Hoseok gasped.

“Aish, you tattletale! Seriously?”

“While I appreciate you trying to defend my honor, or whatever, oppa, don’t murder him, that would be too much paperwork. Anyway, that stuff doesn’t bother me,” Aviva said. Yoongi and Hoseok looked at each other, and then her.

“Wait, really?” Yoongi said. “Why?”

“I grew up with Soonyoung, so I’ve been kind of… desensitized to that stuff?”

“Ah.” Both boys nodded. “That’s why your reactions are so amusing,” Hoseok figured. Aviva made a face.

“You know, both her and Taehyungie have said that before, I don’t get what I’m doing that’s so amusing.”

“Hmmm. Well, it’s similar to the satisfaction I feel when get Yoongi-yah or Tae Tae to react to things,” Hoseok told her. “They’ve got good poker faces, but they’re marshmallows on the inside.”

“Yeah,” Aviva agreed. “Cause he’s Suga.” Hoseok laughed as Yoongi groaned, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Later in the Bangtan Room, Jin was dressed oddly formal, in a suit.

“Seokjin-oppa,” Aviva started, but Hoseok interrupted her, pressing his finger to her lips.

“Shush. Just let enjoy the view for a moment.” He paused, tilting his head. “Eh, the moment has passed—why such a plain suit? That cut and color? So boring…”

“More importantly,” Aviva said. “Jin-oppa, you don’t have to do this in front of us, if it’s stressing you out too much.”

“Ha ha, of course not! I’m not stressed at all,” Jin said. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re standing as stiff as a board!” Aviva said.

“So…” Jin brushed his hair away from his face, ignoring her. “I’m going to do a three-line poem using my name.”

Aviva stared at him as he recited. “I don’t get it... did I lose something in translation?”

“No,” Hoseok told her. “It’s just not funny.”

“Yah!” Jin said, finally breaking from his robotic stance. “What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t fun at all,” Jungkook agreed, his nose wrinkling as he smiled slightly.

“It was hilarious,” Jimin disagreed. “But maybe not for the right reasons.”

“I’ve been thinking about the concept for these logs, but… do you think three-line poems are the right direction?” Namjoon wondered, tapping his chin.

“Not to mention the suit…” Yoongi added.

“Right?” Hoseok agreed.

“Is it too much?” Jin touched his lapel nervously. “I thought it would show I’m taking it seriously.”

“Aw, Jin-oppa, I really do appreciate the thought…” Aviva smiled at him gently. He smiled back at her. “But you should change.” He pouted.

“What about Tae?” Jin wondered as she started shepherding him out of the room. “He’s just been whispering into the mic!”

Aviva shrugged.

“Eh, some people like that kind of thing.”

That night, Aviva had just gotten home when her phone rang. It was Jin.

She answered. “Yes?”

“Ah, Aviva-yah? I was wondering, well, I think I need to get more used to being in front of a camera, so, I thought… maybe you could take some pictures of me?”

“…Like a photo shoot?”

“Did somebody say photo shoot?” Soonyoung wondered, popping up from the couch.

“Ah, it’s Jin-oppa,” Aviva told her.

“Oh? That oppa? Can you put him on speaker?”

“Um, oppa, do you mind if I put you on speaker?” Aviva asked him. “Soonyoung-ah wants to be included.”

“S-Soonyoung-ah?” He repeated. “Um… okay, sure.”

“Alright.” Aviva hit a button. “You’re on speaker. I think I know where she’s going with this, by the way. Soonie’s always liked dressing people up and taking pictures of them.”

“Well, yeah,” Soonyoung said. “It’s fun. But you never played with me!”

“I don’t like having my picture taken, and I don’t really like dressing up either, you know that,” Aviva said.

“Anyway, it would be fun to have such a handsome model,” Soonyoung thought.

“H-Handsome?” Jin said. “You’re too kind.” Aviva squinted at her phone, wondering at Jin’s sudden change in personality.

“You don’t mind people dressing you up, do you, Jin-oppa?” Soonyoung purred. “Since you’re gonna be an idol soon, hmmm?”

“Ah, no, I don’t mind,” Jin said, sounding like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“Great!” Soonyoung said. “I’ve got some free time on my hands, so why don’t you meet me in the morning, that’s when the light will be best—ooh, ask Hobi to pick out a few outfits for you to bring, he’s good at that.”

“Okay, the ladies have arrived!” Soonyoung sang loudly, as they entered the dorm the next morning. She looked around. “Where is my model?”

“Ah, Soonyoung-noona,” Jimin smiled at her sleepily. He was still in his pajamas, sitting on the couch and playing a game on his phone, by the looks of it. “I heard there’s a photoshoot happening? Jin-hyung is in the kitchen, as usual.” Jimin pointed in the correct direction.

“Thanks, cutie.” Soonyoung leaned over and kissed his cheek before continuing on to the kitchen. Jimin’s face turned red.

“W-what?”

“…You haven’t really interacted with her much, have you?” Aviva realized.

“Ah, no, I’ve only met her a few times.”

Aviva nodded. “You get used to it,” she told him. Jimin looked doubtful. “Is Namjoon-ah in there too? He said he needed something.” Jimin nodded.

In the kitchen, Namjoon’s spoonful of cereal was frozen halfway to his mouth.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He said, eyes wide as he looked at Soonyoung.

“Joonie, I don’t remember saying you could address me so informally,” Soonyoung said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Soonyoung-ssi,” Namjoon amended, putting his spoon down like he’d lost his appetite. “Could you please tell me... what the hell are you doing here?”

“Didn’t you hear me yesterday?” Hoseok wondered. “Jin-hyung’s having a photo shoot.” Namjoon’s eyebrows went up.

“With her?” He pointed at Soonyoung. Hoseok nodded. Namjoon patted the frozen stiff Jin on the shoulder. “Good luck, hyung. You’re gonna need it.”

Soon Soonyoung had left with Jin, somehow conscripting Jimin to help her, with Hoseok volunteering to go along.

“Do you think Jin-oppa has a crush on Soonie?” Aviva wondered as she sat with Namjoon, Jungkook, and Yoongi in the studio room. Jungkook and Yoongi were looking through a free-use video library for good meme clips to add Namjoon’s more serious than expected rap encouraging voting.

“What?” Namjoon stared at Aviva.

“She is hot,” Yoongi said, blunt as ever.

“Well…” Namjoon looked hesitantly at Aviva.

“She’s hot. She knows it, I know it, we all know it,” Aviva said, unconcerned.

“I guess,” Namjoon agreed reluctantly. “But I didn’t think Jin-hyung was the type to go for just looks.” He looked worriedly at Aviva again.

“It’s fine. I love her, including her personality, but I know she scares a lot of people,” Aviva said. Jungkook grimaced.

“She is a little scary.”

“Some people are into that,” Yoongi pointed out.

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Jin-hyung is like that? Really?”

“We don’t know that,” Namjoon said, waving his hand. “And I never said I was scared of her.” Everyone looked at him in disbelief. “Okay, maybe I am a little scared of her…” Yoongi patted him on the shoulder.

“It takes a brave man to admit his fear,” he said. Namjoon smiled at him. “Which means Kookie is braver than you.” Namjoon frowned. Jungkook laughed. “Anyway, can we stop talking about this and get back to your video? I’m bored.”

As far as any of them could tell, Jin had survived the photo shoot. He was very quiet when he got back, but definitely more relaxed.

“These are actually great,” Namjoon admitted reluctantly, clicking through the photos of Jin on the studio desktop.

“Right?” Tae agreed. “The lighting and composition are gorgeous.”

“And the way she directs your eye to all these little details you’d normally miss is so cool,” Jungkook commented.

“…Did you both take photography in school?” Namjoon wondered.

“A bit!” Tae said.

“No.” Jungkook shook his head. “Just a personal interest.”

“Ah, you guys are constantly impressing me,” Namjoon said, patting both their heads at the same time. Tae smiled. Jungkook blushed.

“Okay,” Aviva said, walking into the room. “I got Jin-oppa to eat something and then sent him to bed.”

“Eat what?” Tae wondered.

“I picked fried chicken up as a treat,” Avi told them. “It’s in my office.”

“What?” Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier? It’s all gonna be gone.” He and Taehyung sped out of the room, though Namjoon stayed in his seat, frowning. Aviva sat next to him in Jungkook’s abandoned chair.

“Are you sure he’s alright?” Namjoon asked her.

Aviva nodded. “It’s just the Soonyoung after affect. I have seen it in many of her… um, objects of affections, over the years, even suffered it myself a couple of times.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hmm. She pays so much attention to you, it gets overwhelming,” Aviva explained. “It feels like she’s breaking you down and building you back up again stronger. She probably would’ve been a good manager… but she’s always been more interested in the technical side of things. She picked a broken old PS3 up off the street the other day and fixed it.” Namjoon made an impressed noise. “Don’t tell the boys, I don’t want them showing up at my apartment to play it at weird hours.”

“Got it,” he said.

That night, Aviva stayed in the studio to watch the vlogs on the desktop. Guilt stabbed at her chest when she saw Tae’s video in the queue. She should’ve told him what was said in that marketing meeting as soon as she saw him, but she knew it would hurt him. She was hoping to fight it somehow. Maybe if he’d made a really cute video it would convince the marketing team to retract their decision?

She clicked play, watching Tae excitedly brag about all the business cards various talent agencies had given him. There were some big names in there. Aviva leaned back in the chair, trying to untangle her feelings—the ones that came to the top were pride and possessiveness. She was proud that others saw how brightly Tae could shine, but she wanted to be the one to show everyone that light. But wasn’t that selfish? If she really wanted him to reach his dreams, shouldn’t she encourage him to strive forward, even if that meant alongside someone else...?

She sat back up, watching the video as Tae happily told the camera that he was already taken, and started making the cards into paper cranes. She smiled slightly.

“Manager-noona!”

She jumped as she felt someone’s hands on her shoulders.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Nope.” He was grinning. “But the guys don’t fall for that anymore, so you’re my best target!” She glared at him. He poked her cheek and cooed. “Even your glare is adorable!” She sighed, running her hand through her hair. She stared up at him, wondering how to break the news. He bit his lip, his playful expression turning into something she couldn’t read. “Ah, manager, why are you looking at me like that? That’s no fair!”

“Did you get taller?” She wondered absentmindedly, thinking she was having to crane her neck more than usual to look at him.

“Did I?” He wondered. “Stand up.” He took her hands in his, pulling her to her feet. Then he measured the distance from his head to hers and nodded thoughtfully. “The height gap has changed. It appears you’re correct, I am taller.” He smiled. “You’re so tiny, manager!”

“I’m really not...” Aviva automatically hugged her arms over her stomach.

“Well, maybe not all parts of you are small...” Tae glanced briefly at her chest and then blushed, moving his gaze to the ceiling. “But they are parts of you, and together they make up someone beautiful.” He booped her on the nose. “And cute.”

“I don’t agree, but thank you for the compliment,” she said stiffly.

Taehyung frowned. “I don’t do empty compliments.”

“I know. I have told you I admire your sincerity, Taehyungie.”

“Hmmm. You know, Jiminie doesn’t think he’s cute sometimes too, which is ridiculous, because he always is!” He tilted his head. “And I know I’m good looking, but sometimes people call me beautiful, like a few of those agents giving me business cards...” He pointed to himself on the screen. “And I’m not so sure how I feel about that.”

“Do you not want to be called beautiful?” Aviva wondered.

“I don’t know. Do you think I am?”

“Yes,” she said honestly.

He smiled. “Well, that makes me feel good, even if I’m not sure that’s exactly how I see myself... because you don’t give empty compliments either. Isn’t it amazing, noona, that no one sees things the same? You see me differently than I see myself when I look in the mirror. It’s like a painting, or a poem—we’re all art up to each other’s interpretation. I want to know more about how you see me, and I want to tell you more about how I see you.”

Aviva stared at him for a moment and then shook her head. “Tae, you are special, I’m sorry I can’t put it into such pretty, cheesy words as you do. There’s something else I have to tell you, and I don’t know where to start…”

“Would this help?” He held a crane out to her, which was made out of one of the biggest entertainment companies in the country. She swallowed. “I want to make a set of one hundred, but I want you to have the first one.”

“Are you planning on getting a hundred more offers?” Aviva wondered.

“Eh, maybe, if people keep calling me pretty,” he joked. He pointed at the video. “Will you post my video first?”

“I... I can’t,” she told him apologetically.

His brow furrowed. “Why not?”

She took a deep breath. “There was a marketing meeting earlier and they said, well, they want you to be a secret member.”

“Secret member?” He repeated.

“They don’t want to announce you until later. They know you’ll do well with the intended demographic and they’re hoping you’ll have even more of an impact if you come as a surprise,” she explained.

“I see...” He said slowly.

“So I’m not allowed to post any images of you online, but... I can fight it, if you want me to, Tae.”

He blinked at her. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re just as important a member of this group as any of the others, and I don’t want you to feel left out,” she said.

He smiled, a little sadly. “Thank you for offering, but I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with your sunbaenims.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll make it through.”

Instead of Tae’s video, Aviva launched the official Bangtan Youtube account with Namjoon’s ‘get out there and vote!’ rap as the first post.

The next day she launched their twitter page after talking to them about what kind of message they wanted to open with:

'What’s up! This is BTS. We’re finally officially opening our BTS Twitter~ *Clap Clap Clap* We will upload more weird and fun things that one could have only imagined about before our debut…’

Next was Soundcloud, which she opened with a solo song adaptations by Rap Monster and Suga.

To wrap up the year, all of the boys recorded a Christmas diss track together (except for Hoseok who was visiting family for the holidays). They called out themselves, Big Hit, Bang-PD, even Aviva.

“When do I ever sleep?” She wondered, glancing over the lyrics as they gathered in the studio.

“Well, we told you it was a diss track,” Namjoon said slowly.

“Besides, blame Jungkookie,” Jimin said. “He wrote that part.” Jungkook and Aviva squinted at each other.

“You need to sleep more,” he told her pointedly.

“That’s not what you make it sound like!” She argued. “You make it sound like I’m at home sleeping while you work to death!”

“Aish, just post the video already before we all grow old and die,” Yoongi groaned.

Although only Jin and Rap Monster were featured in the Youtube video Aviva and Yoongi did the editing for, Tae was still excited to hear his voice in the background. Aviva returned his warm hug and tried not to think too much about the glow of pride for the first posts wearing off and leaving them only with the strain of hard work.

#bts #fanfiction #kim taehyung #min yoongi #jung hoseok #bts x oc #bts world #idolverse #manager!oc #bts predebut #ot7

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shirlleycoyle · 5 years

Text

The Cruise

In the not so distant future, the cruise industry is serving a client with different aims than sunbathing and leisure. In Alex McElroy’s dark satire, a member of the younger generation finds himself among them. Enjoy. -the ed

The passengers trudged up the ramp—clicking their canes on the steel surface, crewmembers guiding their wheelchairs—as Jensen shimmed up a rope flung over the side of the ship. He was seventeen, a month away from his senior year, and one of the most likable kids at his high school. A nice boy, according to family and friends. He never did anything wrong. Nothing like this.

He’d been dared to sneak onto the cruise ship—that white behemoth shadowing Lincoln Harbor. His friends had been daring each other to board all week, until Hank Lenders blackmailed Jensen into going. He threatened to tell Anna Mayne that Jensen was in love with her: that he fantasized about running his hands through her hair, dreamed he saved her from burning buildings, that he longed to take a bullet for her and had already planned his final words in case he died in her arms. The embarrassment would’ve scarred Jensen indefinitely. So he climbed the rope and tumbled over the railing, planning to snap a photo and scram.

He passed casinos and gift shops and bars en route to a dining hall the color of teeth. Curved beams vaulted the ceiling. In the center: a glass chandelier shaped like a squid. A middle-aged couple chatted pleasantly at a table. A mural of an iceberg covered one wall. Jensen took out his phone to capture proof that he boarded.

A crewmember gripped his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “No photos right now.”

“Just one,” Jensen said.

“You signed the contract.”

That’s where you’re wrong, Jensen thought.

“You should have turned it in.” The crewmember stuck out his hand.

“Ease up,” said Jensen. “I’ll put it away.” This placated the crewmember.

The middle-aged couple beckoned for Jensen, and he joined them.

“You’re a youngin’,” said the man. He had a meaty face and bloodshot brown eyes.

Beside him sat a branchy woman clutching a chilled glass, shivering so hard her necklace rattled.

“This makes me so sad,” she muttered.

“She gets sentimental,” said the man.

“Sentimental,” she scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Where’s your drink?” asked the man.

“Take mine,” said the woman. “I need something steamy.” She flagged down a waiter and ordered a hot toddy.

Jensen sipped her drink. Whisky and something.

The man leaned close. “What’s brought you onto . . . The Ship.”

“Oh stop it,” said the woman. “That’s none of your business.”

“It was a dare,” Jensen said.

“Balls on this boy,” said the man. “Sounds a little like me, right Tilly?”

The waiter arrived with drinks. She wrapped her hands on the glass, absorbing its heat. “Honey,” she said to Jensen. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“The Great Beyond!” The man lifted his arm importantly.

The ship’s horn sounded. Jensen rushed out of the dining room, but by the time he reached open air, the dock had already shrunk to a toy. The water churned and frothed behind them. Jensen considered jumping, but he didn’t know how to swim.

That night, Jensen traded in his last five dollars for Boat Bucks so that he could gamble in the casino. At the slots, his first pull jackpotted, netting an extra grand on his card. The second pull earned 500-something. Beside him, a young woman wearing a scarf over her head hit jackpot. Two seats down an elderly man shimmied in front of a flashing slot machine.

The woman leaned over. “It’s a morale, thing. Boat Bucks. Two grand gets you a soda. But it feels good—the beeping, the lights, the victory dance.”

“I’ve never gambled,” said Jensen.

“What a time to start!” said the woman. She hacked into her hands. “I’m sorry. That’s rude. I get nervous, say stupid things.” She cackled. “Nervous! Even now. Listen to me.”

Jensen nodded to hide his discomfort.

“You’re young.”

“So I hear.”

“I thought I was young. But you can’t even be—”

“Seventeen.”

“Thirty-four. What a tragedy—but I’m over that now. Everything’s tragic.” She cackled again. “Ev-ree-thing.” She wiped a tear from her cheek.

“I’m getting hungry,” he said.

“Hunger,” she said. “Good for you. We’ll see each other again.” She smiled at him.

“It’s a big ship.”

“We’re young,” she said. “Let’s stick together.”

“I guess.”

“I’m Amelia—Amelia Darlington-Riggs.” She extended her hand for a shake.

Jensen gave her his hand and she clutched his rather than shaking it, cupping both hands around his, caressing his palm. “I should go,” said Jensen. He twisted his hand free of hers.

“I’ll be here,” she said. Jensen didn’t look back.

Later on, at the main bar, he bumped into the meaty man from the dining hall: Lee Hastings. He bought them a round, asked Jensen about himself, then proceeded to inundate him with his life story: his varsity football career, the business he owned, pressuring Tilly into marriage. He bought a second round, a third. “You can’t take it with you,” he’d cheer, before laughing uncomfortably.

He wasn’t the only one saying it. Everywhere on the ship: You can’t take it with you, You can’t take it with you, You can’t take it with you, You can’t take it with you. The passengers said it, the bartenders said it, Lee wouldn’t quit saying it, and by the time he finished his fourth drink, You can’t take it with you felt like a spear in Jensen’s chest. Lee emptied his glass. “How ‘bout one more? I mean,” he leaned close, “You can’t take it with you.”

Jensen fled to the upper deck and vomited over the railing. It was freezing outside, so he wrapped himself in towels to keep warm and stretched out on a lounge chair.

A text from Hank Lenders waited on his phone: dude where u at? Nothing from Anna Mayne—no Hank told me you loved me and I love you too. Though, she might have sent that message. She might be sending it now. Hank’s text had arrived six hours earlier. Jensen no longer had service. His eyes grew heavy. Soon he was sleeping.

He spent the second and third days like his first, dining on the finest foods, letting passengers buy him drinks, gazing into the terrifying immensity of the ocean. He refused to ask where they were headed. That would give him away. But he wondered why no one discussed the destination. Shouldn’t they all be making plans for the Bahamian beaches, or for the shopping they’d all do in Paris? Instead, everyone drank. You gotta live in the moment. You can’t take it with you.

Jensen woke on the fourth morning to a hand on his arm.

“Morning stranger,” said Amelia. “Rough night?”

“You can’t take it with you,” he joked.

“I hate that,” she said. “Just hate it.”

“It’s pretty lame.”

“Sure you can’t take it with you but leave it to somebody else. So solipsistic.”

“So what?”

“You’re adorable.” She pinched his cheek. “Selfish. If my world ends the whole world ends. Yikes.”

Jensen didn’t follow.

“If I had a family, I wouldn’t be here. Better spend those last moments together, share a few dinners. Leave the money to them. But I don’t. No family—and you, yours must be heartbroken. That or sadistic. Sending you here. I hadn’t even thought of that.” She put her hands over her heart.

She reminded him of Lee—imposing her history on him. Maybe she was sick. Maybe they both were. Is this all the dying want? To preserve their lives in the memories of strangers?

“We should sleep together,” said Amelia, then reddened. “I mean, why not?”

“I’m seventeen,” he said.

“So what? The cops gonna nab us? We’re dying, Jensen!”

“Speak for yourself.”

Amelia imitated him. “You’re funny.”

“I’m not dying.”

“But you booked a ticket on the SS Iceberg—my term. Funny, right?”

“The what?”

Amelia winced.

“I snuck onto the ship. It was a dare—and they let me right on.” Jensen threw off his towels. “What is this ship? Where are we going?”

“You should talk to the captain.”

“Tell me where we’re going.”

“Nowhere,” she said. “This is a—it’s a . . . Jesus I can’t even say it. You really don’t know?”

“What’s wrong with everyone here?” She rested a hand on his shoulder and, sensing the gravity of what she planned to tell him, he didn’t wriggle free.

“Jensen,” she said. “We’re on course for an iceberg in the northern Atlantic, a hull-shredder, big enough to bring the whole ship down. Not the crewmembers. They’ll be long gone. Rescue boat. The details are spotty—and I didn’t read it too closely.”

He jumped up, pacing and clutching his shirt. “No sane person would do this.”

“Who wouldn’t do this?” she said. “First cruise ship to hit an iceberg in what—a hundred years? An iceberg that calved because of climate change? That’s a global tragedy. Guaranteed to leave those who die in the news for decades. Our faces burned into the collective unconscious. Remembered.”

“But I’m healthy,” he said.

“I really feel terrible for you, Jensen. I really do. It honestly—it’s a tragedy. Everything’s tragic—but this, it’s disgusting.” She wiped a tear. “This world doesn’t make any damn sense.”

Amelia Darlington-Riggs flagged down a crewmember. It was the same man who’d warned Jensen against using his phone. “This young man’s in trouble,” she said. “You need to take care of him, to get him to safety. There’s been a terrible error.”

“I’m a stowaway,” Jensen said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Lower your voice,” the crewmember said. Others on deck were staring.

“Make sure he’s safe,” Amelia said. She patted his hand, and he was grateful for the contact.

The crewmember led him into a stairwell to talk. “Calm down,” he said through his teeth.

“I’m just seventeen. I can’t—” Jensen was crying and had trouble talking through tears.

“It’s okay,” he responded. “We have a procedure for this. Come, we’ll get you to safety.”

Jensen followed the man below deck, heading, he thought, to the crew quarters. He repeatedly thanked the crewmember for his kindness. The crewmember said little. They continued through long, metal hallways, footsteps echoing tinnily. “My room’s up here,” said the crewmember. “You can stay here till it’s time.”

“Thank you, thank you,” said Jensen. “I just—I really appreciate this.”

At the door, the crewmember yanked the handle and shoved Jensen inside. He locked it immediately. Jensen slammed his fists against the closed door. “No use.” Jensen turned. Seven other people sat in the cold metal room, squeezed together on a single steel bench.

“What the hell is this?”

“The VIP lounge.”

“I need to get out. To get off the boat.”

“The passengers didn’t pay for regrets.”

“Nope—no way. Better not to think about the regrets. Just lock ‘em away.”

“But he said he’ll come for us,” Jensen said. “When it’s time for crewmembers to leave.”

“Young and stupid,” said the original voice. “Now join us. It’s freezing. We could use your heat on the bench.”

Two days later, a sound like a skyscraper screaming clanged through the ship. The door swung open. Jensen expected someone outside—the crewmember, maybe—but the hallway was empty. The others didn’t get up. “We’re free,” said Jensen.

“Free to go die on the deck.”

“We’ve got each other in here.’

On the mezzanine level, Jensen rummaged through the gift shop for a jacket before moving on. People were still playing slots in the casino. The ship lurched. Jensen was flung to the floor. Liquor bottles slid off their shelves. In the bar Lee and Tilly shared a stool, hugging and weeping.

On deck was the day, bright as a burn. The iceberg had flattened the nose of the boat. Passengers snapped selfies with the iceberg at their backs. Elderly men earthwormed over the railings. The ship lurched like an elevator starting. He pushed through the crowds. Someone shouted his name. Amelia stood at the front, iceberg towering at her back. “Jensen!” she said, with both confusion and worry. She blew him a kiss. A wave crashed the boat, knocking Jensen to the ground. When he stood, Amelia was gone.

According to those in the brig, the crewmembers set out on the lifeboats a day before impact, bundled up, hauling food and duffle bags stuffed with cash and credit receipts. A small yacht waited for them.

Jensen hunted for a life preserver but had to settle for a pack of balloons stashed behind a bar. He inflated them frantically, tied two to each belt loop. His frantic breaths clouded his face. The ship lowered indifferently. Jensen checked his phone. Two bars. He could’ve called his parents, his brother, his grandparents, his aunt. But he dialed Anna’s number. Four rings . . . five . . . six . . . voicemail. “Hi Anna, this is Jensen. Jensen Moore. I just wanna say—well I’m dying. And—since I’m dying—not because I’m dying, but because I mean it, and I’m dying, so I should—I love you. I should’ve said it earlier, but I love you. And I’m dying. I’ll be dead. Soon I think. So: I love you. And I hope you love me.” He lowered the phone and stretched his thumb to press END. His home screen already showed. The call had failed. But when? he wondered. But when?

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kalachand97-blog · 7 years

Text

New Post has been published on Globeinfrom

New Post has been published on https://globeinform.com/cusevery-dayms-chief-others-bag-transparency-awards/

Cusevery dayms Chief, Others Bag Transparency Awards

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shirlleycoyle · 5 years

Text

The Cruise

A crewmember gripped his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “No photos right now.”

“Just one,” Jensen said.

“You signed the contract.”

That’s where you’re wrong, Jensen thought.

“You should have turned it in.” The crewmember stuck out his hand.

“Ease up,” said Jensen. “I’ll put it away.” This placated the crewmember.

The middle-aged couple beckoned for Jensen, and he joined them.

“You’re a youngin’,” said the man. He had a meaty face and bloodshot brown eyes.

Beside him sat a branchy woman clutching a chilled glass, shivering so hard her necklace rattled.

“This makes me so sad,” she muttered.

“She gets sentimental,” said the man.

“Sentimental,” she scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Where’s your drink?” asked the man.

“Take mine,” said the woman. “I need something steamy.” She flagged down a waiter and ordered a hot toddy.

Jensen sipped her drink. Whisky and something.

The man leaned close. “What’s brought you onto . . . The Ship.”

“Oh stop it,” said the woman. “That’s none of your business.”

“It was a dare,” Jensen said.

“Balls on this boy,” said the man. “Sounds a little like me, right Tilly?”

The waiter arrived with drinks. She wrapped her hands on the glass, absorbing its heat. “Honey,” she said to Jensen. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“The Great Beyond!” The man lifted his arm importantly.

The woman leaned over. “It’s a morale, thing. Boat Bucks. Two grand gets you a soda. But it feels good—the beeping, the lights, the victory dance.”

“I’ve never gambled,” said Jensen.

“What a time to start!” said the woman. She hacked into her hands. “I’m sorry. That’s rude. I get nervous, say stupid things.” She cackled. “Nervous! Even now. Listen to me.”

Jensen nodded to hide his discomfort.

“You’re young.”

“So I hear.”

“I thought I was young. But you can’t even be—”

“Seventeen.”

“Thirty-four. What a tragedy—but I’m over that now. Everything’s tragic.” She cackled again. “Ev-ree-thing.” She wiped a tear from her cheek.

“I’m getting hungry,” he said.

“Hunger,” she said. “Good for you. We’ll see each other again.” She smiled at him.

“It’s a big ship.”

“We’re young,” she said. “Let’s stick together.”

“I guess.”

“I’m Amelia—Amelia Darlington-Riggs.” She extended her hand for a shake.

Jensen gave her his hand and she clutched his rather than shaking it, cupping both hands around his, caressing his palm. “I should go,” said Jensen. He twisted his hand free of hers.

“I’ll be here,” she said. Jensen didn’t look back.

Jensen fled to the upper deck and vomited over the railing. It was freezing outside, so he wrapped himself in towels to keep warm and stretched out on a lounge chair.

Jensen woke on the fourth morning to a hand on his arm.

“Morning stranger,” said Amelia. “Rough night?”

“You can’t take it with you,” he joked.

“I hate that,” she said. “Just hate it.”

“It’s pretty lame.”

“Sure you can’t take it with you but leave it to somebody else. So solipsistic.”

“So what?”

“You’re adorable.” She pinched his cheek. “Selfish. If my world ends the whole world ends. Yikes.”

Jensen didn’t follow.

She reminded him of Lee—imposing her history on him. Maybe she was sick. Maybe they both were. Is this all the dying want? To preserve their lives in the memories of strangers?

“We should sleep together,” said Amelia, then reddened. “I mean, why not?”

“I’m seventeen,” he said.

“So what? The cops gonna nab us? We’re dying, Jensen!”

“Speak for yourself.”

Amelia imitated him. “You’re funny.”

“I’m not dying.”

“But you booked a ticket on the SS Iceberg—my term. Funny, right?”

“The what?”

Amelia winced.

“I snuck onto the ship. It was a dare—and they let me right on.” Jensen threw off his towels. “What is this ship? Where are we going?”

“You should talk to the captain.”

“Tell me where we’re going.”

“Nowhere,” she said. “This is a—it’s a . . . Jesus I can’t even say it. You really don’t know?”

“What’s wrong with everyone here?” She rested a hand on his shoulder and, sensing the gravity of what she planned to tell him, he didn’t wriggle free.

He jumped up, pacing and clutching his shirt. “No sane person would do this.”

“But I’m healthy,” he said.

“I’m a stowaway,” Jensen said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Lower your voice,” the crewmember said. Others on deck were staring.

“Make sure he’s safe,” Amelia said. She patted his hand, and he was grateful for the contact.

The crewmember led him into a stairwell to talk. “Calm down,” he said through his teeth.

“I’m just seventeen. I can’t—” Jensen was crying and had trouble talking through tears.

“It’s okay,” he responded. “We have a procedure for this. Come, we’ll get you to safety.”

“Thank you, thank you,” said Jensen. “I just—I really appreciate this.”

“What the hell is this?”

“The VIP lounge.”

“I need to get out. To get off the boat.”

“The passengers didn’t pay for regrets.”

“Nope—no way. Better not to think about the regrets. Just lock ‘em away.”

“But he said he’ll come for us,” Jensen said. “When it’s time for crewmembers to leave.”

“Young and stupid,” said the original voice. “Now join us. It’s freezing. We could use your heat on the bench.”

“Free to go die on the deck.”

“We’ve got each other in here.’

The Cruise syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

0 notes