//------------------------------// // Vinyl, Chapter 2: Don’t Need Nothing but a Good Time // Story: Never Miss A Beat // by TaleweaverTheUnicorn //------------------------------// Vinyl immediately abandoned her Award statuettes by the coat check. Her magic wasn’t unlimited, and she wanted to hold as many different dishes of fancy food as possible. Pinkies cakes, as well, were to die for. She kept a halo of dishes floating about her head, directing a fork from each in turn gently to her mouth. Amazing. Perfect. Truly, the best night ever. Well, except for the angry grey mare yelling at her at the entrance, the angry grey mare whacking her with the trophy, the angry grey mare yelling at her about her stupid questions, and the angry grey pony glaring daggers at her the whole way up and back after she’d won her awards. Basically, if it weren’t for the AGM, it’d be perfect.  “Step riiiiiiight up, come try the best drink in town, a Vinyl Schnapps!” Pinkie's voice, from over at the bar. Vinyl was really bucking sure the drink she’d had earlier wasn’t schnapps, but hey, sometimes you just gotta go for the pun. Celestia only knows Vinyl had been there. Still, they were powerful drinks. Good thing she didn’t have to have another- “Hey there’s my filly! Way to go, Scratch!” Stellar Wind, of course. Vinyl knew she wouldn’t remain missing for long. She was a pretty, older mare. Her orange-and-yellow mane was short cropped, but the matching tail left long, a style only she could really pull off. Vinyl turned and flashed her an only somewhat strained grin. Stellar had a stallion on one flank, and a pretty, iris colored, fluffy haired mare on the other. She pulled Vinyl into a physical hug with a magical grip, her breath smelling strongly of the ‘Schnapps’. “You’re killing it, V. Killing it. Making me a very happy mare. Very happy.” She giggled, and shoved another blue drink into Vinyls face, sending the remains of a sauteed something scattering. Vinyl groaned internally as she took a belt with a grin.  “C’mon, let's get some pictures.” She began to drag Vinyl towards a gaggle of reporters, who were currently focused on a pretty gray mare. Oh horseapples, it’s the AGM again. Stellar didn’t hesitate, planting herself almost in front of the other pony, demanding attention by her sheer presence. Vinyl gave up wriggling free, instead attempting to drag Stellar back, before she really got the AGM pissed off. “Excuse me” Octavia said, with politeness so sharp it could cut steel. Too late! “We were not done speaking.” She glanced at Stellar’s groupies, and then at Vinyl, where her gaze lingered, radiating pure hatred. It reminded Vinyl very forcibly of her mother. Stellar opened her mouth, but Vinyl gave her a sharp nudge with a back knee, in as painful a spot as she could muster. “C’mon, we can wait. I need to finish my drink.” She said, jerking her head to a side table nearby. Stellar blinked a few times, and then followed, confused. Octavia’s glare followed Vinyl, until pulled away by a reporter’s question. The poor newscolt looked terrified as it turned on him. Stellar seized Vinyl's head with her magic, twisting it this way and that. “‘We can wait’? Scratch, you’ve never waited for anything in your life. I’ve seen you leave restaurants rather than wait for the food. I’ve seen you cancel gigs rather than wait in line!  You once carried a whole bowl of pudding onstage rather than wait to finish it!” Stellar’s incredulity turned into straight up paranoia, and she pulled the headphones off Vinyl’s ears with a magical yank. “You’re a changeling, aren’t you?” “For Celestia’s sake, Stellar! No, I’m not!” Vinyl rolled her eyes. Always with the changelings. “And I can prove it, remember that time, when a filly put a pancake-” “Okay, fine, maybe you’re not a changeling.” Her suspicious glare did not lessen, but it was softened slightly by an embarrassed blush. “But something is definitely up, and you seem off your game.” “I just don’t want to piss the A- Err, that mare off anymore. She seems to really hate me.” Vinyl focused on polishing off her drink, grateful for the excuse to stop talking. Immediate regret hit her as her head began to spin. Dangit, Pinkie. “Aha! Vinyl loves pissing ponies off!” Stellar pointed a black-shoed hoof at her. “There’s no way you’re her. . . Unless. . .” Her eyes remained narrowed, but her mouth began to twitch into a smirk. “You’re sweet on her, aren’t you? Didn’t you just-” “No way! She’s cute, lots of fillies are cute.” Vinyl cut her off, then hastily took another drink from a passing waiter and focused on it, hoping it would cover her blush. “Some of them don’t even hate me. Octavia just-” “‘Octavia just’ what, pray tell?” Ice swept across Vinyl's fur, making her shiver from head to hooves. She slowly turned her head, like somepony in a horror film might look behind them at a monster. “You are unbelievable. First you interrupt me, now you gossip about me?” “Wait, hey, that wasn’t me, that was-” She glanced around for Stellar, only to find her grinning from the next table over, her groupies trailing behind. “. . . My manager.” She returned her focus to her drink, hoping against hope that, like an ursa, Octavia would leave if she just played dead. No such luck, unfortunately. “No, do go on, I would really like to hear what it is you think of me.” The AGM stepped closer. The move was probably intended to be threatening, but Vinyl was three drinks in, and her first instinct was something else entirely. She stepped closer as well. “I said you were cute! Got a problem?” She lowered her glasses to stare into the other filly’s eyes. Gosh they were pretty. And big. Why are they so big? Oh, because she was too close now, way too close. She scrambled backwards as her brain finally caught up to the rest of her. “Uh, that came out wrong. What I meant-” A gray hoof filled her vision, and a moment later her head was spinning like a top. “H-how dare you!” Octavia practically shrieked. Her face was a lovely pink, dulled by the gray fur to a pleasing hue. She continued to stammer as Vinyl tried to take stock. Whoa, she was seeing spots. And the lights were way brighter. Was that the bright tunnel? Was she dying? No, hold on, she’d just lost her glasses. She scrambled to put them back on before they were crushed underhoof by a passing socialite. Nope, that’s backwards. Aha, there we go. She returned her focus to the gray mare, who was looking down at her. Why down? Was she that tall? Oh, no, Vinyl was on the floor. Wow, filly hits hard. “Wow, you hit hard.” Vinyl said, making sure her headphones were still there. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the other mare. Was this love? Was she drunk? Or maybe she was concussed? Octavia, beautiful name, stared back. Vinyl tried and failed to stop a wink. “Okay, whoa, hey.” Stellar Wind got between them as Vinyl struggled to her hooves. “I understand the impulse but don’t actually injure my client. She’s got more shows to play this week.” “I-I did not mean to hit her so hard. I was simply surprised.” Octavia walked over to Vinyl, who recoiled slightly. She extended a hoof. “My apologies, ugh, Miss Scratch.” Vinyl took it, slowly. The AGM shook it, nearly knocking Vinyl back down. Holy Sunshine, she was strong. “It’s, uh, it’s fine. And so is Vinyl. Calling me by that, I mean.” She pulled her hoof away and rubbed the back of her head. That’s not right. She really must be concussed. “And I’m fine too. Totally.” Octavia seemed unconvinced. “I realize you are drunk, and likely intellectually impaired even on a good day, but you seem especially, ahem, damaged at the moment.” She squinted. Or glared. Her face was wavering enough Vinyl honestly wasn’t sure. She backed up a little just in case it was the second thing and another punch was coming. “I say, Octy. There’s surely no need for that kind of talk.” Hey, that was a familiar face. The very gay colt from the gay club she’d played at a month or so back. They knew each other?  “She made drunken advances, Parish. As my coltfriend, surely it is your duty to protect me, and not her?” Vinyl felt her heart sink, even as the dregs of her rational mind questioned the statement, and the feelings it evoked. They were dating? There’s no way. Wait, why did it matter anyway? Nopony cares! Octavia was still looking expectantly at the stallion, so Vinyl followed suit. Some kind of mental struggle was giving him a somewhat constipated look.  “Ah, well. Miss Vinyl. I say-'' He made a half-decent show of working himself up into a rage, puffing out his cheeks and snorting, but apparently gave up and said instead; “I don’t suppose you would sign my copy of Blue Sun?” He held up the small record in one finely hooficured hoof. Vinyl couldn’t stop a grin from sneaking onto her face. Maybe this was her opportunity to hit back. Turnabout is fair whatever, as ponies say. “Oh, yaknow, I would, Pears. . . But I don’t want to get you in trouble with your marefriend.” She flashed him a wink. She supposed he might swing both ways, but if this guy didn’t like stallions she’d eat her suit, including the buttons. “So, only if it’s okay with ‘Octy’ over there. I don't homewreck. At least not on purpose.”  Parish cast Octavia a look that was half pleading, half trepidation. He was scared of her too, eh? Did she have a powerful family, or was it just the frankly incredible earth pony strength? Or both? Vinyl suddenly wondered if she should have stuck to her earlier position of not aggravating her. She didn’t care what most ponies thought, but if the AGM could actually cut into Vinyl’s bitstream, that could be a big problem. The more sensible and drunken part of her wondered what exactly she’d done to earn her ire in the first place. The flirting didn't help, but seriously, what on Luna’s holy moon had she done before that? The trophy shaped bruise on her forelegs definitely predated the attempted flirtations. Unless Octavia was counting the time she glanced at her at the entrance. Bleh.  Anyway, she checked back into the conversation. Apparently Parish’s puppy eyes had won over even the granite hearted Octavia, and the album was being pushed Vinyl-ward again. With a shrug and a ‘Your funeral’ look, she snatched a quill from Stellar and scribbled down her name and a little message, which definitely wasn’t a subtle jab. Parish, Pears, received it with trembling hooves, as though it were a royal treasure. “You enjoy that. It’s one of my better new albums.” Vinyl smiled at the pony. He seemed like a chill enough guy, if you ignored the pony he lived with. “Speaking of, didn’t I see you at an afterparty a few moons back?” “Ahem, yes. A very fond memory, to be sure. You played an impressive concerto that night.” Parish seemed embarrassed as he spoke. Octavia snorted loudly enough to turn heads. Parish gave Octavia a look. Two looks, actually. First a glare, then an eyes half closed, troublemaker-I-have-a-bad-idea look. “Perhaps you would care for dinner, or lunch? There’s several newly venerated restaurants I have been dying to visit, and I’d love to chat more, Miss Scratch.” “Uh, you know, I have a-” “We’ll do it.” Stellar cut in, bashing Vinyl away like a pool ball with the speed of her ambition-powered flank. “I’d love an opportunity to speak with you, and your quartet’s Frederick Horseshoepin, if he’d care to come?” She conjured business cards with a spark of her horn, passing them to the earth ponies. Octavia looked tempted to shred it, but tucked it into the loop of her bowtie, instead. Normally, Vinyl would say a tie alone as an outfit was hella boring, but she really made it work. Wait, why was she thinking about that?  “I’m sure I could convince Frederick to accompany us, although his presence may tighten the requirements for the venue, I’m afraid” Parish smiled the smile of a pony four knees deep in love. Vinyl winced slightly, and oddly, or maybe not so oddly, so did Octavia. Vinyl cast her a curious look, but was answered only with a glare. Ah well, Vinyl had been sure he was gay, and here we go, proof positive. “He’s got very high standards, Miss. . .Wind.” “Call me Stellar, I insist. And I have rather exacting standards myself.” They shook pedicured hooves. “You’re coming, of course, Vinyl.” The statement didn’t even pretend to be a question. It just wore the nametag and required the answer of one. “Sure thing. As long as ya’ll are paying, right?” Vinyl grinned, sincerely this time.Two free dinners. Hot dog! The desire for food was only a little overshadowed by Stellar being so. . . Stellar. “You just won two MMA awards. Surely you can afford dinner?” Octavia’s tone was full to bursting with distaste.  “Sure, I could, but free is free, and I have expensive hobbies.” Vinyl waggled her mostly empty glass. She was really more of a bottom shelf filly, and hadn’t been dabbling in potions much lately, but Octavia didn’t need to know that. Or anything else for that matter. “C’mon, never turn down a free lunch is like rule number one of a musician.” “Ah, yes. I must have missed it when they were giving out that version of the rulebook.” Octavia took a glass from a waiter, champagne of course. She drained it very quickly as Stellar and Parish kept blabbing. Vinyl stopped really following the conversation, but noted that Octavia spoke only to support Parish or subtly-not-so-subtly dunk on Vinyl.  It inflicted a growing feeling of being a foal again, standing stiffly and quietly while Mother made plans for her and talked to other important ponies. “I’m gonna go dance.” She said when it became unbearable, fleeing from the feeling like she would from a rabid timberwolf. Buck this whole scenario. She had been dealing alright, but somehow, someway, this was a straw-meet-camel's-back type situation. “You concussed, Vinyl? There’s no dance floor.” Stellar gave her a look. “Fine, the bar then. You kids have fun.” VInyl scampered, slow cooked with the hot wash of shame that so often hunted her during foalhood. It used to be her constant companion, until it was replaced by the warmth of booze. Speaking of, drinking more actually sounded good now. Maybe no more Pinkie drinks though. So much sugar. She barely slowed herself as she slid into the fancy bar, a stool almost toppling out from under her. It was being tended by an extra large, dapper red stallion whose unruly blonde hair couldn’t be quite contained by the gel stuck to it. He tilted his head quizzically rather than speaking. “Give me uhhhhh” Vinyl scanned the bottles. One of them had a little moon cap on it, Night Princess. Looked expensive. “Gimme the Night Princess, double, neat.” “Eeeeyup.” The stallion murmured, somehow making it sound like ‘your funeral’. He fetched a glass and the bottle, which was nearly full. Uh oh, bad sign. He skillfully poured Vinyl something halfway between a double and a triple, and slid it over with a glance that said ‘looks like you need it.’ Vinyl seized it mid-motion with magic, taking a slug. It tasted like what was advertised as ‘smooth’, kinda, but with an edge to it, some kind of flavoring. Vinyl’s numb tongue couldn’t really figure out exactly what it tasted like, since it was currently being burned alive. Only Vinyl’s extensive experience in the subject of alcohol kept her from coughing or spitting it out. Yup, something this undrinkable was definitely expensive. She glanced up at the stallion, who was nearby, watching for other ponies. He kept tugging at his collar and fussing with his sleeves.  “So. . .” She started, letting the word slur off into silence. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say. She felt the need to talk, but he seemed the type that had mares all over him all the time. He didn’t need more of that, especially from a lesbian. She just nodded, instead, receiving a slightly relieved sounding eeyup this time. Vinyl let herself lean forward and stare into the depths of her glass, a universal signal of ‘leave me alone.’ “Land’s sake, Vinyl. What the hay happened to your face?” Applemare again, of course. She posted up on the bar right besides Vinyl, peeking around her to get a glimpse. Was it bruising? With her white fur, she bruised like, well, an apple. “Uh well, it’s just creative dif- Erm, it’s sorta like-.” Vinyl struggled. It was hard to lie to the pony, for some reason. She changed tack. “It’s fine, no big deal”. “No offense, sugar cube, but it seems like it might be more’n that.” Applejack- Applejack! That was her name! I knew I’d get there. Applejack indicated the drink in front of her, which was mostly empty of the purplish liquid it had once contained. “I saw you get licked and tied up by changelings and look less beaten than you do right now.” “It’s just-” She hesitated. The easy lies wouldn’t come to her. She stared into Applejack's eyes, which were steady, no judgment. The truth bubbled up past the lies she tried to say. “It, she, just reminds me of being a filly, I guess. Getting yelled at for everything I do, because it’s always wrong, or just not good enough. I hate that.” She shot a glare over at the bottle. What the heck did they put in this stuff, a truth serum? “Reckon that’d be enough to drive anypony a little crazy.” Applejack gave her a light pat on the back, almost sending her into the bar horn first. What was with Earth mares and beating on her tonight? “But you ain’t done nothing wrong. Well, you maybe shouldn’t’ve put the flirtin’ on quite so hard, but apart from that, I mean. You got two of them awards. You played at a royal wedding for ponies sake! You’re a heck of a musician. Got no reason to feel like y’ain't good enough.” Vinyl felt her right cheek heat up to match the soreness in her left. “Well, shucks,” She said, eloquently. “That’s. . . very kind of you.” “Just bein’ honest.” Applejack smiled, and stood. “C’mon now, let's get you home. I’ve had just about enough of fancy pants parties myself. Where ya staying?”  “Haven’t quite figured that out. That’s usually my manager’s job” Vinyl let herself sink down to rest her face on the bar, wincing and flipping to the other cheek when she rested on the struck one. She gestured vaguely with a hoof to her glass, but Applejack shook her head. “Aw, come on, one for the road?” “Don’t reckon you need another. I’m already startin’ to think I gotta carry you.” Applejack gave her a quick up and down, gauging her weight and general wasted-ness. Vinyl tried to lean on her hoof, showing how chill she was. She missed the first time. “Ayup, definitely carryin’ you. Y'all can stay with me tonight.” “Yeah, okay. Buy me dinner first maybe.” “This is dinner. You want another one?” “It’s- Never mind. Fine, we can hit the road.”