She had said Hawkins would be a change of pace. Just about a week later, and that change was about to give her whiplash. When people said small, they meant small. When they said quiet, they meant quiet. If she hadn't been keeping up with the news over the past couple of years, Rosie would have said nothing nothing out of the ordinary could ever happen in this place.
Now, with that murderous cult put away, the townsfolk had returned to their uneventful lives. Leaving front doors unlocked to go to work, or school, to the fancy new mall they claimed to loathe but couldn't leave alone, to this singular strip of humble shops in the middle of town. She'd gone to every door in town with her best smile on looking for work. A few people said they would call her, but never asked for a number. This was the last place she had asked and, rather than slink out the door when they told her no, decided to browse.
Outside of the mall, this record store was one of few businesses that drew people her age. They floated around, idly browsing the shelves and racks. Not buying much. Just looking.
The guy standing across from her hid behind an LP as she looked his way, drawing it close like he was looking for a hidden message in the inferno printed all over the cardboard sleeve. She stood on tiptoe to make sure.
"Eddie?"
He nearly dropped the record, recovered, then gently slotted it into place in the rack. All while staring at her. He stared so long she felt genuinely afraid that he didn't recognize her. Finally, he smiled.
"Hi! You're Henderson's aunt, right?"
"Rosie."
"Yeah! Yep." He tucked his hands under his arms like he was afraid to touch anything else.
"What're you looking at?" She asked, pointing at the discarded album.
"Oh. Just..." He considered the cover a moment. "Trash."
She tried to smile. Maybe she shouldn't have bothered him.
Finally, he noticed the tapes she had picked out and set on top of the rest. "What about you?"
"Not trash, luckily. I actually have most of these on vinyl, but I'm just looking for something for the road." She waved one at him.
Suddenly, he was excited. He snapped his fingers and, pointing at her like a waypoint, scuttled round the display to take a closer look. A goofy grin on his face.
"You like Metallica?"
"What is that supposed to mean!"
"What is what?"
"The way you said it!"
"What way did I say it?"
"I don't look like I listen to Metallica or something?"
"That's not what I meant!"
"So why did you sound so surprised?"
He backed away. "I sense I've made a mistake."
She broke. "I'm fucking with you."
Eddie perked back up. "You are?"
"I am."
He shuffled closer again, sighing with relief. "You are!"
Rosie handed the cassette to him.
"Ride the Lightening. Good choice."
"Favorite song?"
"Are you testing me?"
"Just making sure you're not a poser." She teased.
He gaped dramatically, then answered: "Four Horsemen. You?"
"Orion."
"Oooh. That's an interesting one."
"I like instrumentals." She took it back and turned the case in her hands. "It's really sad, isn't it? About Cliff?"
For a split second she thought he was going to grab her, but he quickly pressed his fingertips to his mouth. "I'm still in shock."
"I know!"
"I mean...out of nowhere!"
"I knowww!"
"We'll get through this. The Metallica Family. Together."
She really was upset. By his somberness she guessed he was too. After a moment of respectful silence, he leaned over the rest of her assortment.
"These are all solid."
"I'm trying to choose." She rattled Ride the Lightening. "It's reduced, so definitely this one. And I think I'm leaning towards one of these as well." She held up two more tapes. "You choose: Number of the Beast or Powerslave?"
He recoiled like she had hurt him. "Ohhhh, this is a cruel test."
"I'm judging this one. Harshly."
"Shit. Ok. Let me think!" He pointed at one. "666, Hills." Then the other. "Midnight."
She shook the first. "Hallowed."
"Oooh. Hallowed!" He flicked the second. "Mariner, though?"
"Mariner!"
He chewed his lip, then hung his head. "I can't pick one."
"Me neither."
Eddie lit up. "So there's no right answer?"
"No. I'm struggling."
A giggle, much higher in pitch than she expected. Eddie cleared his throat. She read the track listings again as he fiddled with the pins on his jacket. His rings were cool. She thought about mentioning that. He coughed loudly first.
"Ahem! Actually... I'm in a band."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"What do you play?"
"Guitar." He turned to look over the cassettes as he spoke. "I sing, too. Or I try to."
"What're you called?" Rosie asked, eager. "Your band?"
"Corroded Coffin." He muttered awkwardly, checking that no-one was listening. "We actually play sometimes in The Hideout. That's the bar down the street - can't miss it, it's the only bar in town with more than five stools."
"I've seen it."
"Yeah. And that's not just because I work there. It's also because Rob knows my uncle. You...you should drop by."
"Sounds great."
He mussed his hair. Like it needed it. "Yeah."
"When?"
His eyebrows shot up. "Huh?"
"When are you playing?"
"Oh! Um...tomorrow, actually."
"What time?"
"You know you don't really need to come, right?"
She grinned. "What time?"
He glanced around, then leaned close. She froze. "There's not some invisible gunman holding a revolver to your head or something?"
That made her laugh, even more so when he tried to bat away her unseen captor. "No! Come on, tell me what time?"
A hand went to his hair again. Like it needed more ruffling. "Around nine?"
"Nine." She picked up one of the Iron Maiden tapes - it didn't really matter which - and made for the counter. "See you then."
He didn't respond til she was going out the door: "See you tomorrow!"
