Eddie saw Casey again much sooner than he thought he would. He picked up a shift that following Monday, expecting to work with Danny. But there she was behind the bar when he walked in.
"Well look who it is!" He called as he made his away across the empty bar. She smiled at him. Like genuinely smiled at him as if she was genuinely happy to see him. He wasn't used to girls looking at him like that; looking at him like anything other than confusion or repulsion. Unless they were buying from him, then they acted nicer, albeit briefly.
"I didn't realize I'd get lucky again, so soon!"He leaned over the bar, resting his weight on his crossed forearms. His sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, and he realized Casey was looking at his rings, then his swarm of bats tattoo. He definitely wore a lot more jewelry than she did. The rings, a bracelet, a watch, even the guitar pick dangling on a chain around his neck. She only ever wore a single silver ring on her middle finger, a delicate filigree but no stones. No necklaces, no bracelets. But when she tucked her hair behind her ears, Eddie could hardly even count how many piercings she had. Each ear was littered with a mix of gold and silver studs and hoops. Her shirt for the evening featuring a Warhol style banana, but no text. He recognized it from an album cover, but he couldn't think of what. The shirt was, as always, knotted at her navel.
"I asked Danny if I could cover his shift," she started. "Didn't feel like sitting home alone, bored." She shrugged, still smiling at him.
"Now you get to be here and bored," Eddie said, gaze sweeping over the empty bar. She laughed.
"But at least I'm not alone," she said sweetly to him. God, she was so nice to him. She teased him sometimes, sure, but she was never mean about it.
"I'm great company," he replied confidently.
'You'll be even better once I teach you some drinks," she said, going back into training mode.
"Y'know, I thought we had a great thing going on Saturday. I do the talking, you make the drinks. Hell of a team, don't you think?" He procrastinated the training, his fingers tracing the wood grain of the bar top.
"You'll make more tips if you do it yourself," she encouraged.
"Just in it for the money, huh?" He teased.
"Yeah, I'm saving up for a boat," she said sarcastically.
Casey quizzed him on basic drinks, pausing to serve the few drunks who came in every now and again. She tried to convince them to order some of the drinks she was teaching Eddie, so he could practice actually making them without wasting anything. Sometimes they agreed.
A couple of hours into the shift, Casey went into the backroom for a few minutes, and came back with a freshly popped bag of popcorn. She shook it before opening it, and offered the bag to Eddie after taking a handful from the top. He scooped out a handful, shoving half of it in his mouth.
They shared the bag, chatting casually between opening the occasional beer.
"So what year did you graduate?" Eddie finally asked. Surely she was from Hawkins, meaning she went to Hawkins High. But he certainly didn't recognize her, and he couldn't believe that he wouldn't remember someone that looked like her. Unless she was a lot older than he thought. And Jeff said he saw her at the market once, so she lived in Hawkins, too, probably.
"Well, I technically didn't," she answered, after taking a second to think about how best to answer the question. Eddie hadn't expected that.
"Woah, a dropout. Didn't realize you were such a bad girl," he teased. Though he really didn't care if she dropped out, nor did he judge her for it. He had absolutely no room to talk about academic achievement.
"School was hard for me. I dropped out after sophomore year," she explained. "Got my GED a year before I would have actually graduated, though." Oh, so it wasn't an academic thing. He probably should have just quit and gone for the GED exam instead of being a threepeat senior, but then he wouldn't have been allowed in Hellfire, and he probably wouldn't even bother with the exam anyway. School was at least a little structure in his life.
Eddie also couldn't help but read between the lines of the "school was hard for me" part. Something about the way she said it implied that they probably had similar experiences.
"From Hawkins High?" He asked, wanting more information.
"Oh, no. I went to St. Catherine's," she corrected. Oh shit, a Catholic school girl. He could just picture the little plaid skirt and knee high socks. She threw a handful of popcorn at him for the look he on his face.
"Sorry, you can't just tell a guy you went to Catholic school," Eddie defended himself, ignoring the popcorn that was stuck in his hair. Casey rolled her eyes, but he was encouraged by the small smile on her face.
"Did you go there for middle school too?" He asked, saving her from any more school girl stereotyping.
"I transferred out of Hawkins over Christmas break in sixth grade. '78, I think," she told him. Oh, they were so the same age! How could he not remember her from middle school? Did puberty completely change her?
"No shit. How do I not remember you?" He was amazed. She just shrugged. "Do you remember me?"
"Honestly, I don't think I could name more than five people from Hawkins Middle," she told him.
"Fair. I looked a little different back then, too. Had a buzzed head," he said.
"I really can't picture you with short hair, but especially not a buzzcut," she laughed. She then reached out to his hair. He thought maybe she'd stroke it, or grab it and pull him in for a hot kiss. But she just brushed the popcorn out of his curls.
Before Eddie could ask more questions about her life, she was called away to make a whiskey sour, and him a gin and tonic. Casey's customer had her caught in a conversation, and Eddie just leaned against he back counter, arms crossed loosely over his chest, legs crossed at the ankles, and watched. She talked to the old guy, hands on her hips, a polite small on her face, reaching up to toss her hair over her shoulder. She had touched his hair, it was only fair that he got to touch hers. And he really fucking wanted to; it probably felt like silk.
When she was done with the man, Casey walked over to Eddie, leaning her back against the counter next to him, mirroring his pose and crossing her arms over her chest. She bumped her hip into his, knocking him off balance. He recovered quickly, and fell back into the same position next to her, hips touching. He knocked his shoulder into hers, but she didn't nearly fall over like he did, prepared for retaliation with a wide stance instead of crossing her ankles like he had.
"Can I ask you a weird question?" Casey asked, looking to Eddie. She was maybe only an inch or two shorter than him, so their eyes were on a nearly equal level.
"Anything, doll face," he said. He considered himself an open book, and the weirder the better, in his opinion.
"I heard that, and sorry if it's not true, but I heard you sell," she said lowly. Ah, so she needed a dealer.
"Sell what?" He asked, playing dumb, but his wicked, conspiratorial smile giving him away.
"Don't be smart," she laughed.
"I might sell certain things to particular people," Eddie said cryptically, still smiling.
"Ok, well, I'm looking to buy," she said.
"You looking for anything in particular?" He asked.
"I'm no connoisseur but something mellow. I can't turn my brain off at night to sleep and it's driving me crazy," she confessed. Eddie turned on his business mode, mentally running through his catalog of strains.
"I'm pretty much out of stock right now, but I see my supplier in the morning. I'll get you something good," he told her, assuring her. She smiled and replied with a simple "cool," before walking away. Now what on earth would be keeping Casey up at night? If she was anything like him, which she didn't seem to be, her brain just wouldn't turn off when her head hit the pillow. Sometimes it would take Eddie hours to fall asleep, his brain going a mile a minute thinking about campaigns, music, where his Number of the Beast cassette might have gone, what flavor blue raspberry was actually supposed to be, because it definitely didn't taste like raspberries, and why was it even blue?
When their paths crossed again, Casey tucked a slip of paper into the front pocket of Eddie's jeans. The sudden touch startled him, and he immediately pulled it out, unfolding it to find a phone number. Casey was too busy unloading a case of beer bottles into the fridge to look at him. "Call me when you get it," she told him. Shit, he had no idea it would be that easy to get her phone number. "I don't work again until Friday," she added, implying she didn't want to do the deal at work. Oh shit, they were gonna meet up outside of work? Sick.
"Will do," he said. Oh, hell yeah he was gonna call her. "I gotta talk in code when I call?" He asked, making her laugh.
"It's just me, so we're safe," she assured him, still chuckling. Damn was she cool. High school drop out, lived alone, a dope bartender, nice as hell, the prettiest hair he's ever seen, not bad taste in music; Casey was ticking a lot of Eddie's boxes. He had absolutely no clue if he ticked any of hers, though. He couldn't have been that repulsive to her, since she didn't seem touch adverse. Eddie could work with that. Most people didn't like him at first, but he sure grew on them, the few that gave him the chance.
Once it was finally closing time, and all of the customers were gone, the pair turned the stereo up and rushed through their closing duties. The music sucked, fuckin' Billy Joel, but Casey was actually humming along to it. He really couldn't nail down her music taste, it was all over the map. Sabbath, psychedelic 60's rock, possibly Pink Floyd, fucking Billy Joel.
Closing didn't take very long, since they hadn't been busy at all. Eddie stood and waited while Casey locked the back door behind them, then walked in step with her to their cars. He had parked his van one spot over from her car, not even realizing it was hers until just then.
"Hey, hold up a sec," Eddie reached out and grabbed Casey's elbow, pulling her to a stop at her car's back bumper. He quickly unlocked his van, leaning over the driver's seat, rummaging around for something. He emerged, holding out a rolled joint. "To tide you over, no charge."
"Oh, wow," Casey replied dumbly, not expecting his gesture. She walked up to him to take it. She twirled the end between her thumb and index finger, considering it. "I'll share it with you," she said, looking up at him finally, smiling.
"How could I refuse," he replied, returning her smile. God, his smiles really touched his whole face, Casey realized. She liked it.
Eddie pulled out his own lighter. "Go on," he encouraged. He sparked the flame as Casey held the joint to her lips, lighting it for her as she inhaled. She held the smoke in, and passed the joint to him between two fingers. She turned her head and blew the smoke into the breeze as Eddie has his own toke. Joint hanging from his lips to free his hands, Eddie walked over to the back of his van, flinging open the back doors to sit down on the bumper. He patted the spot next to him and passed the joint back as Casey sat down. She flicked some ash off, careful to avoid her bare legs stretched out before her, crossed at the ankles. Eddie couldn't help but trail his gaze down them, stopping at her still-clean Vans. Was it weird to say that her tanned skin reminded him of the outside of a toasted bagel? Smooth and tan. And just waiting to have a mouth on them.
"So, you have a girlfriend?" Casey broke the companionable silence with the absolute last question Eddie expected. He blinked stupidly and answered with a simple "nope." She considered the answer, he couldn't tell what she thought about it, though.
"Boyfriend?" She asked after a beat, making Eddie splutter and choke on the smoke, coughing like a rookie. "Take that as a no," she laughed.
"What about you?" He fired back once he recovered. She took a long drag, and held her breath for even longer. The seconds dragged on as he anticipated her answer.
"I'm chronically single," she finally said, smoke swirling in the breeze that had suddenly turned back towards the pair.
"I find that hard to believe," Eddie said lightly. How could such a pretty girl be 'chronically single.'
"I attract douche bags," she told him. "Or I only pay attention to douche bags," she shrugged, seemingly unsure of the actual answer. Though, it was maybe a little of both, if she was being honest.
"You should change that," Eddie said, wishing he had actually said I'm not a douchebag.
"I think I have 'waste my time' written on my forehead, or something," she laughed, though she didn't seem very amused.
Eddie held the joint in his lips, suddenly reaching out and grabbing Casey's face, hands on her cheeks and fingertips in her hair, and gently turning her face towards his. He turned her face this way and that, pretending like he was inspecting it. She laughed and squirmed under his hands. "Nope, I don't see anything," he said, joint back in his fingers, Casey free from his grasp. She continued to laugh, and Eddie ate it up. Plus, he finally touched her hair, though not for nearly as long as he would have liked, and not exactly in the manner he really wanted to. He wanted to absolutely tangle his fingers in there. Gentle tugs, not so gentle tugs, grabbing a fistful at the back of her neck, twirling the ends between his fingers, tucking her bangs behind her ears for her, burying his nose in it; the list goes on and on.
Casey's laughter died down finally, probably only lasting so long from the high. "You're funny," she breathed.
"I'm not sure I should let you drive home," Eddie teased. She rolled her now pink eyes.
"I'm not going far," she said, not insecure in her ability to drive home safely. With that, she stood up, stretching her arms high above her head, her shirt riding up considerably. Eddie blatantly stared at the newly exposed skin. "I should go now," she said, pulling her leather backpack over one shoulder.
"Get home safe," he said, not moving to leave anytime soon. He wasn't in any rush.
"Hey, if you're not busy, and if you don't mind, just come by my place tomorrow," she said, pulling her keys from her bag. She looked him in the eye expectantly.
"Want me to make a house call?" He joked.
"If it's not out of your way or anything. Don't worry if you can't, we can meet up later," she backtracked.
"I can make time for you," he assured, grinning.
"You don't mind?" She asked, not wanting to inconvenience him.
"Anything for you, baby," he said, standing up now. For a second, she really believed that.
"Four twenty three Harvest Hill Road," she told him. "I'll be home all day."
"Four twenty three Harvest Hill Road," he repeated.
"Call me if you forget that or can't come, or whatever," she said, starting to step towards her car slowly.
"It's locked in my brain forever," Eddie assured her, tapping his temple. She smiled and waved goodbye. Her car leaving the parking lot far too soon for Eddie's liking. He could sit and smoke in the back of his van with her for hours. And just in case he did actually forget, Eddie fumbled through the stuff in his van in search of a pen. Once he had one in hand, he scrawled Casey's address in his messy writing underneath the neat writing of her phone number, on the slip of paper she had given him earlier.