When’s the last time anyone heard anything about ARGYLE FUENTES? Old friends remember them as OPEN-MINDED & LAID-BACK but also BLUNT & OBLIVIOUS, no wonder they’re still known as THE BASKET CASE around town. Today, in 2006, they are 39 and some people say they remind them of the faint ever-present smell of weed lingering in your clothes despite your attempts to cover it up with essential oils and incense of every kind; unexpectedly making the move from ‘token sidekick’ to the trope of ‘genius ditz’; finding fulfillment in the simple things in life; perpetually sore muscles from keeping up a brave face
BIOGRAPHY
TW: DEATH MENTION, GRIEF, DRUGS
Maybe deciding to stay in Hawkins had been the easiest decision Argyle had ever made in his life. Jonathan had been his first real friend in the world, as Argyle would later quote at Jonathan’s wedding reception, his life had… basically started the moment he’d walked into Mrs. Miller’s classroom at the beginning of the year, the second he’d sat down on the only empty seat left in the class and Argyle had turned to him with a grin so big it had made his cheeks ache. Brochachos for life. Trauma-bonded until the end of their lives after that wild fucking roadtrip they’d gone on, spring break of ‘86.
First, though, Argyle had to wait until graduation. He’d promised his abuela on her deathbed that he’d finish school, and he’d sort of promised himself, too. There were plenty of people, loads of teachers included, who seemed to be convinced that, because he indulged in the occasional blunt, he’d never amount to anything, much less academic success. But, ha, he’d show them! (Also, he wasn’t going to start shit with the ghost of his grammy. He may have promised her to stay in school but she had promised him to come back and haut his ass if he didn’t. And she’d already been scary while alive, no need to risk anything. ) Show them he motherfucking did. Walking that stage at graduation with a joint tucked behind his ear, a wide grin, bathing in the gobsmacked stares of all the people who’d thought he couldn’t do it. Take that, Lenora Hills. Take that, Martin from Algebra. Take that, uh…. what was that dude’s name again? Anyway.
Having successfully graduated from High School, all Argyle needed to before moving to Hawkins was drop out of community college. A predictable move for him, sadly. He’d stuck it to the haters with the 3.2 GPA at graduation. Then he’d proceeded to un-stick it to them by giving up his place at Lenora community. But whatever, there were more important things in Argyle’s life now than studying and drinking questionable amounts of alcohol out of red solo cups. Lenora community would still be there if Argyle ever decided to move back to Cali, and, besides, Hawkins had a community college of its own. So, Argyle could support his best bro and get an education! Two birds with one beautiful, smooth, warm stone. A joint between his lips, Argyle handed in his apron and drove the Surfer Boy van along the coast for one last time.
Life in Hawkins was … different, to say the least, but easier to adapt to than he’d initially thought.The first few months were spent mostly indoors, comforting and supporting Jonathan in any way he could. Movie nights, long talks over a shared joint in the middle of the night. Whatever he needed, Argyle was there to provide it. Whether that was a grocery run, a call to the funeral home to re-negotiate a deal on the caskets. Argyle proved to be a real jack of all trades during that time - a time of mutual comfort during grief, though, because, of course, Argyle wasn’t left completely untouched by the deaths of Will and El, either. He’d known them for as long as he’d known Jonathan, had needed to get used to this new version of the Byers household, as quiet as he’d never experienced it before. The first few months until well after the funeral, Argyle did everything to be as accommodating as possible to Jonathan, Hopper, Joyce.
Oh, Joyce. Bless her heart. Argyle hadn’t been fortunate enough to have grown up with a mom, raised by his father and abuela, and that had been totally fine and lovely! But holy cow, wasn’t it lovely, too, that Joyce Byers had taken him in like one of her own. He’d even called her ‘mom’ by accident a couple of times. But it wasn’t horrific like it was when he’d been so tired he’d accidentally called Mrs. Croucher ‘mom’ in history class. No, the opposite, actually, Joyce had merely laughed, ruffled Argyle’s hair, a distant look of sadness in her eyes she tried to hide by quickly asking him if he wanted anymore mashed potatoes.
It’s Joyce that pitches the idea of a roadtrip to California to him. Arglye quickly pitches it to Jonathan and, after a little convincing, they’re back in the Surfer Boy Pizza van, a big, foldable map spread out across Jonathan’s lap while Argyle happily drums along to ‘Break My Stride’ on the steering wheel. Down the West Coast to California. A trip down memory lane - stopping by the Byers old residence, paying a visit to Argyle’s father and his new wife - with a healthy dose of laying on the sand at Santa Monica beach, sharing a joint while watching the sunset. ‘You know, brochacho’, Argyle would say with a dazed grin, watching intently as the red and orange and blue of the sea exploded into a lovely rose-ish colour, ‘everytime there’s a, like, a super, like, pretty sunset? That’s my abuela saying hi. And Will, too. And your little sis.’ And he would nod to no one in particular, before adding, a little quieter; ‘Sorry I ratted you out to Joyce with the viscious skate attack, little bro. That was actually so badass.’ And they would be quiet for a while.
Once back from their trip, Argyle, having blown through his Surfer Boy savings, got a job at the laundromat. He just sat there most of the time, blazed, talking to little old Dolores about her cat or her husband, he wasn‘t quite sure. Since moving to Hawkins, Argyle had gone on a journey of … finding himself. He’d pretty much sailed through life, couldn’t really name any goal or aspiration he had. Everytime they’d taken one of those career aptitude test he’d panicked - all those things sounded sort of good! But also all of them sounded sort of bad, too… god, how could he ever decide what to do with his life?
One night, he had an epiphany. Having consumed a criminal amount of weed, the idea had suddenly popped into his head, and he cursed himself for not having thought of it sooner. ‘A speak easy….. but, like, for weed, man!’ A buddy of his had gone to Amsterdam in the summer, told him about the ‘coffee shops’ there. But how much more exciting when it was, like, secret! And smoking was still criminalized, at least in Indiana it was. Had he stuck gold here?
Argyle’s secret-but-not-so-secret weed speakeasy, the weed sponsored in part by one of the only friends he’d made in Hawkins excluding Jonnie boy, some super cool dude named Reefer Rick, opened underneath the laundromat soon after. With moderate success among insiders but, hey, success nonetheless!
However, once Argyle pitched the idea to some of his buddies who owned a couple of weed dispensaries in Cali, he had really stuck gold, like, seriously. A place where you could both purchase the goods and consume them, in a safe space, a comfy environment? Genius. Truly. Maybe this had been Argyle’s purpose all along, being a business owner. A true business man. But without the stuffy suits and the, like, cocaine and infidelity.
Suddenly, as if overnight, Argyle Fuentes is, like, rich. Like, filthy rich, or something akin to that. Like, raking in dough, rich. When he checks his bank account for the first time in months - he doesn’t usually do that, money is made up, anyway - he can scarcely believe it’s real. ‘Don’t spend it all at once!’, the bank teller cautions him with a playful wink. Argyle nods, proceeds to buy his dad and step-mother their house. He pays off whatever debts they have. Then he withdraws a fifty and leaves. He scarcely, if ever, touches his funds, why should he? He’s got everything he needs. He makes sure Jonathan’s fridge is full, makes sure he’s got snacks in his own, too. Every once in a while, Argyle will pick a good cause to donate some of the money to.
Oh, he buys a cat, too. Garfield. Who … looks nothing like Garfield, but it was the only cat name he could think of. So now he’s rich and he has a cat and he travels for business (fucking business) every once in a while, but truly, Argyle is happiest when he’s lounging on a bench near lover’s lake, basking in the few hours of sun Hawkins gets in a day.
During his travels he meets the woman that, soon enough, will turn Argyle into an actual dad. She’s a good buddy, one joint too many and one thing had led to another,a one night stand had turned into a future of co-parenting. No bad blood between them, fuck, if anything, Argyle was stoked! He’d always wanted to be a dad, and this was going to be a challenge, of course, but one he’d happily take on. Maybe this is his purpose in life, after all. He’s so happy, it’s ridiculous. The fact that she doesn’t pressure him to either marry her or stay completely out of her and the little bud’s life is a huge relief on him, too.
Everything’s going too good, almost, in comparison to what Jonathan’s going through. When Joyce passes, Argyle puts all other things on hold, rushes to Jonathan’s side. Surely, this dude had been through enough trauma to last a lifetime, and here came another hit. But Argyle is there, and he’s not going anywhere. Fuck, he’s in this for life, no take-backsies.
Argyle put his surfer boy cap - or one of them, the man’s got thousands - in the time capsule, along with the recipe to the famous surfer boy pizza dough (there’s a secret ingredient in there that Argyle can’t even remember now),
STATS
Athletics (How Athletic are they?) 1
Burglary (Can they swipe stuff?) 3
Contacts (Do they know people with information?) 3
Deceive (Are they a good liar?) 0
Drive (like, actual driving ability) 2
Empathy (How much of an empath are they?) 3
Fight (Do they have hands?) 0
Investigate (Can they sleuth?) 2
Lore (Kinda like knowledge) 1
Medicine (First aid essentially) 1
Navigation (How good are they with a map/getting around?) 0
Notice (Is your character observant?) 1
Provoke (Are they a shit stirrer?) 0
Rapport (Are they charming? Can they do it on command?) 2
Resourcefulness (MacGyver scale) 3
Stealth (Are they sneaky?) 1
Will (Tenacity) 2
