note: considering how ronnie/reggie is virtually crack on the show, this fic contains (but is not limited to) elements of: riverdale and its tie-in comic, classic archie digests, mark waid’s archie, chip zdarsky’s jughead, reggie & me, and—god bless ross butler, i couldn’t resist—13 reasons why.
ao3 link
every other thursday night henceforth, veronica lodge is to go out on a dinner with one reginald “reggie” mantle.
“ricky mantle is an old friend, mija.” her daddy explains during their family breakfast.
it would do her good to befriend the son of one of the most respectable families in riverdale, he says. it’s time to reconnect with their old acquaintances, he adds. this is the fresh start they moved to riverdale for, he finishes.
a simple search on sleuthster would reveal that the richard mantle—and by extension, his family—owns the riverdale register, and several other media outlets in town. veronica need not involve betty and jughead to figure out that hiram lodge is using the mantles’ press connection in an effort to clean his name and reputation in town. between the fraud and embezzlement cases he was just acquitted of and the reported involvement of the southside serpents in the drive-in land acquisition and the sodale construction, god knows how much he needs it.
veronica is aware of her daddy’s reputation as a ruthless businessman. she learned first hand how manfred muggs was driven to a suicide attempt after a shady investment deal with him had gone bad, and how he is not above beating up teenagers to send a message.
but using his very own daughter like this, is a new low.
“a fresh start.” he punctuates as he takes a long sip of his particularly pulpy grapefruit juice. his eyes briefly rest on her mother across the table, then back to her. a coercion.
veronica turns to her mother who smiles gently at her. she has witnessed her mom go from living in the dakota in new york to moving to some dreary town in the middle of nowhere to being a minimum-wage waitress in a diner just to make ends meet after her father was incarcerated. her mother may have made some mistakes but veronica would do anything to protect her—even if it’s against her own father.
in the end, veronica decides to take the path of least resistance.
“i will think about it.” a diplomatic answer. maybe she wants the illusion of control even though she knows that ultimately she doesn’t really have a say in the matter. she clutches her pearl necklace; it feels especially tight today.
she hastily excuses herself out. if she’s going to do it, she refuses to make it easy for anyone.
still, when her daddy pointedly clears his throat in the middle of her decidedly indignant walk out, she turns around and quietly says, “oh, daddy. i love you.” to which he replies, without fail, “oh, mija. i love you more.”
hiram lodge wins again.
as agreed upon by hiram lodge and richard mantle, the dinners (not dates, an important distinction) would go like this:
reggie arrives at the pembrooke at 7 pm sharp, making conversation with smithers while checking himself out in the side view mirror of his corvette as he waits for veronica.
they go to a restaurant of their choosing, which is almost always brookside bistro at the town’s center—reggie’s choice, after she refuses to budge when he asks where she wants to eat.
they order a three-course meal. veronica would usually go with the vegetarian option. reggie’s order changes every time. “i like to work my way around the menu,” he says one time. not that veronica heard it; she was busy ignoring him.
reggie animatedly relates some tall tale about something that happened in football practice. or whatever, she’s not sure; she checks out the instant sports is brought up. It didn’t matter, because reggie’s story is not for her, but for his own amusement, and the occupants of the table next to theirs.
she proceeds to ignore him through the rest of the evening;
and he lets her.
with their bill already paid for by their fathers, they leave the restaurant.
veronica is dropped by her residence no later than quarter to 10.
at the end of their first dinner out, veronica is stopped by reggie just as she was about to step out of his car.
“listen,” reggie begins, “you probably think i’m doing this because i’m after your dad’s money or influence or something,”
she regards him blankly—willing herself not to roll her eyes. there was no way she will dignify this conversation with the famous veronica lodge eye roll.
“but my family already has all of that. and more.” reggie gives a self-satisfied smirk. “the truth is, i—”
“goodbye, reggie.” she interjects as she closes the door.
she thinks she heard reggie call out what seems to be “see you thursday” behind her, which she figures would be impossible considering how any idiot can tell how disastrous this dinner turned out to be.
reggie mantle can’t possibly be that stupid. right?
reginald mantle—strikingly tall, athletic, handsome—is a fairly popular sophomore in riverdale high.
“reggie is hot,” says ginger lopez, slowly. “and tall.”
“i heard he takes tribulus terrestris,” says kevin keller in hushed tones. “but you didn’t hear that from me.”
“who?” pussycats drummer and technique queen melody valentine frowns.
“i don’t really know him that well.” says ethel muggs shifting uncomfortably in place. “i try to avoid him at all costs, to be honest.”
“mantle is a true playa!” exclaims moose mason while distractedly throwing a football. “hey keller!”
“i guess reggie can be difficult sometimes,” says archie andrews, “but he tells good jokes and he’s fun company.” he adds quickly. archie always sees the good in people—to a fault at times.
“why are you even talking to me?” snarls cheryl blossom, then: “why didn’t you return my calls last night?”
“he’s the human equivalent of the student athlete meme.” says jughead jones through a mouthful of pop tate’s burger.
“reggie riles people up with his pranks and all, but i think he just enjoys the attention.” betty cooper says, ever the empathic one. “his parents are rarely home, you know.”
veronica lodge, like any other girl who falls on the 0-4 range on the kinsey scale, finds reggie mantle attractive, which is why during one rebellious streak where she went on a bender to spite her mom into negotiating with her, she invited him as her appointed “dimwitted, sexy, disposable arm candy”, along with josie (“celebrity gal pal”), and kevin (“best gay”). and while she already considers josie and kevin her friends in varying capacities, inviting reggie wasn’t necessarily a premeditated decision—he just happened to be the hottest guy in close proximity at the time—and she wouldn’t think of him as someone more than a casual acquaintance, at most.
the night was certainly nowhere near a vanity fair oscar party, but it was as much good clean fun as mid-sized town teenagers she imagines can have. back at school the following day, everything was normal except reggie’s “swagger” (quotation marks necessary—for veronica would rather give up her custom hermés handbags than to give the impression that such word is in her vernacular) is turned up to 11, and for some reason, he seemed to manage to be especially insufferable when she is around.
when he came onto her at lunch period reminding her of the good time they had that night. they had fun, didn’t they? how about they do it again some time, huh? veronica grits her teeth, “god, reggie. that was one time.”
in response, reggie merely scoffed incredulously, so she continued, “and we went out as a group, in case your lunk head football brain fails to remember.”
and that was it—in two hellishly simple steps, she discovered the secret to getting rid of reggie mantle: 1) ignore and 2) insult. he clearly is no different from a rich run-of-the-mill obtuse and entitled jock who never had to try for anything in his life, veronica decides.
ignoring him should be easy enough; she isn’t the ice princess for nothing—she once refused to speak to her daddy for a week until he relented to allow her and her friends to take the yacht out to the hamptons. and as for insulting him, she can always aim for his intelligence (since his looks are untouchable, veronica laments).
does she feel sorry? no. veronica is doing this with good intentions. if reggie be the one to quit going to their dinners, then her father wouldn’t think she is going against him. he wouldn’t have to threaten her mom to force her to go. this is passive resistance. gandhi did it. or something. it’s supposedly effective.
as for reggie, perhaps it’s unfortunate that he had to take the brunt of this situation, but a guy like that has enough ego required to get over it easily, she decides.
“why won’t you talk to me?” reggie asks on their next dinner.
veronica does not look up. her chanel le vernis black satin nail polish is suddenly fascinating; it is not opaque enough. “hm?” she says distractedly.
“you—“ she feels reggie’s feet shuffle under their table. “you haven’t even looked at me all night.”
it’s working, she thinks. and now for the final blow...
“i mean—”
“no offense, reggie,” veronica slowly presses her palms against their table as she finally looks up at him. “but conversations with you aren’t exactly the stuff of oscar wilde.”
she regrets her words as soon as they come out—even before she saw a flash of hurt settle briefly on reggie’s face. as if on cue, the waiter arrives with the entrée.
apart from the usual empty pleasantries their upper-class upbringing conditioned them to exchange, no further words were spoken between veronica lodge and reggie mantle for the rest of the night.
veronica lodge is not an evil heartless conniving bitch. okay, maybe she could be. a little. her school records back at spence can probably attest to this (that is, unless they have already been destroyed by her daddy). but for all intents and purposes, she is only selectively an evil heartless conniving bitch.
her being spitefully difficult during her dinners with reggie has more to do with the situation her father has put her through rather than because of reggie himself. reggie is but a mere casualty in the crossfire of a classic lodge skirmish.
during the week, she decides to speak with reggie at school hoping to offer, not necessarily an apology, but perhaps something approaching a mea culpa. insulting his intelligence and just being generally insufferable to him who has been nothing but civil to her is very unbecoming of her. even veronica can admit as much.
being mean to reggie is like kicking a dachshund who barks non-stop to stupidly assert its dominance. it’s annoying, but it’s a dog nonetheless. and one does not kick dogs under any circumstance.
however after about three attempts to approach him, it became apparent that reggie is avoiding her. her—as in, veronica lodge. as soon as he spots veronica come near him, he would appear to be suddenly very engrossed in the book he’s holding—because reggie mantle nose-deep in a book is not bizarre at all, no.
she decides to drop it. whatever. she could just tell him when he comes to pick her up that thursday. if he ever comes at all, that is. and if he doesn’t, then her plan worked, didn’t it? daddy can now get off her case? it’s all good?
veronica ponders this as she takes a sip too many of her fourth espresso of the day—which she figures is the reason for the sinking feeling in her stomach. yes, it is because of that, she reassures herself.
it’s thursday and veronica lodge is wearing a saint laurent classic little black dress.
any self-respecting girl knows that the lbd is a perennial wardrobe staple. it’s simple, elegant, and versatile. it’s perfect for a night out, or—if a girl is of veronica’s caliber—even a night in. which is exactly what she intends to do tonight.
the authorities may have taken everything away from them back in new york, but this is riverdale and she can damn well be glamorous inside her own pied-à-terre if she wants to. that’s the reason why she’s dressed up, she tells herself, and certainly not for the off-chance that reggie mantle shows up and—
a shiny black chevrolet corvette pulls over in front of the pembrooke.
veronica lodge is having a night out after all.
“i want a truce.” veronica announces as she puts down her dessert spoon.
reggie blinks. not used to veronica initiating a conversation.
“i’m letting you off the hook,” she begins. “i know you’re doing this for whatever your father bribed you with, as i am with mine—in a way—but whatever kind of deal they’re negotiating between themselves—i don’t want to know and i don’t want any part of it.” she bites back a snarl.
veronica proposes her plan: a) they both talk to their respective fathers about how this arrangement doesn’t really work for them, and if that doesn’t work out—which is likely—then, b) they construct an elaborate scheme where they pretend to go out together but will go on their separate ways, only to meet at a given hour before he has to drop her off for smithers to check. it could work, she insists.
“besides,” she sighs. “i know the last thing you want to do on a thursday night is to be ignored by some girl.” she flips her hair, “even if said girl happens to be the veronica lodge.”
reggie quietly considers this for a moment—spoon picking at the corners of his untouched chocolate-cream flan. after a while, he finally looks up at her. his eyes are a deep warm brown, veronica notes. she had not noticed them before.
“i read dorian gray.” says reggie.
veronica tilts her head.
“the picture of dorian gray.” he specifies.
“i’m aware.” she wills him to continue.
“yeah. well. i read it, alright. took me like two weeks.” reggie rubs the back of his neck, “okay, i had to sparknotes afterwards. still.”
veronica considers reggie. between the boisterous jock who openly declares himself as “mantle the magnificent” in the middle of the student lounge, and this diffident young man in front of her who fumblingly tries to discuss english literature, veronica realizes that she didn’t really know reggie. veronica smiles, we can change that.
“yeah, okay.” reggie leans back on his chair. “laugh all you want, veronica.”
“ronnie.” veronica offers.
“alright,” reggie smiles tentatively. “ronnie.”
“so you were saying?” ronnie playfully demands. “the disillusions of aestheticism that has blinded dorian, lord henry, et al.”
“first of all,” reggie adjusts his seat. “this dorian guy seems like one of those guys who has a lot of dick pics on his camera roll—“
later on their drive home, ronnie learns that reggie has had adele’s 25 on his car radio for months now, and how he plays it as soon as she steps out of his car.
“jerk.” ronnie rolls her eyes. “i love adele. i had box seats at her madison square garden concert a few years ago.”
they laugh as they conclude that only losers dislike adele. and among other things: the importance of the fiji vs dasani debate, the acceptable amount of hashtags in a tweet (“3. 4 at most. 5 is just obnoxious.”), best instagram filter for selfies (“clarendon. what else are you gonna use—kelvin? fuck outta here.”), and really just the amount of things they didn’t know they both agree on.
“you’d be surprised, ronnie.” smirks reggie. she marvels at how easily he adapts to calling her by her nickname.
“really?” challenges ronnie, though she already agrees.
reggie also mentions how much he enjoys ap english as a subject, even though he knows he isn’t particularly good at it. a shame, he says, because he wants to be good enough to write for his father’s paper. he takes on a sober tone as he says this, which prompts veronica to offer bringing it up to betty and jughead who can allow him to be a contributor for the blue and gold. reggie gives a tentative “hm,” before changing the subject to the obviously more pressing matter of deciding which is the best track in e•mo•tion. (veronica picks boy problems, while reggie says i really like you. “you’re kidding, right? just how basic are you?” she teases, to which he smiles, “i’m serious.”) in the end, she decides not to press further; he can talk about it when he’s ready.
there’s plenty of time on their next night out. and the next. and the next.
it is thursday, 9:44 pm. reggie mantle’s car pulls over outside the pembrooke. smithers waiting by the lobby meant there can only be a short exchange between reggie and veronica before she needs to step inside. in that amount of time, reggie managed to make veronica laugh before they bid each other goodbye. it was a pleasant night.
upstairs in the dark of his study room, hiram lodge grins.
