Eddie cracks a lid open and winces from the bright light pouring in through the curtains. Shit. Letting out a tired groan, he lifts his head and glances down, before letting it drop back against the couch. Double shit. That's right. They fell asleep like this.
'I gotta piss like a racehorse.'
Oh, well. Moving isn't an option right now. Man... Chrissy looks peaceful curled up against him with her lips parted, breathing softly. Yeah, he'd feel like an asshole making her get up just so he can take a leak.
He yawns and runs a hand over his face and into his wild hair. What a mess. Totally out of control. Reaching over to the end table, he maneuvers around to pull out a cigarette from his pack before grabbing the makeshift ashtray and lighter. It was all put there specifically to make it easier so she wouldn't have to be moved.
The smoke is waved away to keep it from going into her face. No non-smoker wants a nose full of burning tobacco first thing in the morning. Keeping his hand with the cigarette hanging over the armrest, he looks down at the sleeping woman again. His other arm is still wrapped around her. Boy, he must've been feeling ballsy last night… Maybe he still is.
Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he slowly inches closer, carefully watching for any sign of movement. Nothing so far. Stretching a finger out, the tip lightly grazes her cheek. Still nothing. Feeling a bit brazen, his thumb takes over, gently caressing the skin alongside her mouth. It's soft. He already knew that. A single glance could've told him so.
'Crap!'
"Mmm…" A little noise slips out as she shifts, snuggling her face into his shirt. The hand gripping it tightens and gives a little tug.
"Phew." Eddie breathes out a sigh of relief. Okay, that wasn't a great idea. She might think he's a creep for doing that while she's sleeping. It's not always clear what might go through her mind. This would be a lot easier if it was.
'Did she mean it?'
Does Chrissy really want to break up with the Golden Boy? Or was that just drunk talk? Kinda hard to believe until he sees it. She might wake up and not remember a word of that. There's no point in getting his hopes up too much right now. Still… it means the thought is there. A person doesn't normally blurt out they don't want to be with their partner anymore for no reason. Even if they do split, that doesn't mean she wants to be with him. She might just be tired of Captain Oblivious's bullshit. Honestly, he didn't do himself any favors last night either. Nope. Just had to go overboard with the beer. What was meant to loosen them both up to have a good time and relax, ended up making his mouth have a bigger set than its owner.
"You're being a bad girl tonight."
That alone is cause to self-immolate. Go out back, dig a big hole, set himself on fire, and tell Chrissy to just toss some dirt on whatever's left. He was the one being bad. Riled himself up too much, then couldn't even look at her until he sorted it out. What a louse. Despite that, he had a good time with her. She seemed to like the gifts. They went to a few places and chilled.
'And cuddled.'
"Hmm…" Her eyes slowly flutter open as she murmurs something incoherent. A small hand comes up to rub the sleep away, smudging what's left of the makeup. Pushing off his chest, the cheer captain struggles to sit up while fighting off the grogginess causing her to sway.
"Mornin', princess." When those blue eyes land on him, they widen as realization sinks in. She whips her head back and stares straight ahead. Is it that startling to wake up to his funky mug? After all the drinking last night, she might be a little lost in the sauce. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She lets out a little yawn that's cute as hell and raises her arms up, stretching from side to side. "Ah." There it is. That hiss confirms one thing. She winces and gingerly touches her forehead.
"Gotta hangover, huh?" Sighing, Eddie leans forward to push the leg rest down and snatches a beer off the coffee table. One that was spared from being crushed after throwing it back. Cracking it open, he takes a big swig and falls back against the couch. It's warm but oh well. He's not a snob.
Chrissy looks at him in disbelief. "You're drinking this early?"
"Yeah. You know what they say… Bite the dog that bit you."
"Does that really work?" She asks quietly, reaching down to play with the hem of her dress. It's surprising the entire thing isn't wrinkled from them laying together. Nope, the pleated skirt is just as neat as it was last night.
"Sure. Wouldn't bother if it didn't. Well, that's not entirely true. I'd probably drink anyway." From the side, he can see her eyeing a wine cooler on the table. Hesitantly, she reaches for it and opens it up, taking a little sip. "Water and some aspirin help, too. A joint doesn't hurt either."
"Ugh. I feel like crap." Chrissy says, hanging her head. This might be the first time she's said anything like that in front of him. Nothing much beyond a 'darn' or 'jerk'. Oh, except for when she coughed out 'Christ' when they first smoked together.
'So adorable. I wonder what it'd sound like to hear her say 'fuck'. That'll lay me out.'
"It's the sign of having a good night. If you don't wake up feeling like a pile of shit, you probably didn't have much fun." He chuckles and scoots over on the cushion to rub her back. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that she doesn't feel great. That's written all over her face.
"Of course you'd say that." Massaging her temples, she looks over at a small clock on the mantle and gasps. It's 10:05. Yeah, that surprised him too. "I can't believe I slept so long. Darn… I need to take a shower real quick." He looks away, knowing what that probably means. "Do you want something to eat after I get out? I can make breakfast."
'Oh. I was wrong.'
"Uh… Yeah. Sounds good." She not only isn't kicking his ass out but also wants to cook for him? Well, then. How can he refuse such an offer? It means they get to spend more time together. Screw it. "Hey, where are your trash bags?" His question is met with a confused expression. "So I can throw all this out." A hand motions toward all the crushed beer cans and snack bags. There wasn't much holding back.
"I can take care of it." The cheer captain says softly, surveying the extent of the mess he created. All she had were a few wine coolers and a glass of wine. That's it.
"Nah. Most of this is mine. Just show me where they are, then get that little butt in the shower." That puts some color back into her face. She's not winning this one, even with that pouty look. Leaving trash everywhere and making her clean it up would be such an asshole move. Maybe that's what she does for her dad and Jason, but he's not them.
"Fine…"
Yanking open the lid, Eddie tosses the bag into the can. Boy, there was a lot more garbage than expected. What a pig. Between the beer, snacks, pizza, and cigarette butts, there was plenty to do. There was something that kind of surprised him when opening up the windows to air the place out. Just a little… The Cunninghams are pretty reckless. None of the windows had locks on them, including the one in Chrissy's room.
They're the kind of family his old man would've loved to know about. A big old house with valuables that is practically begging to get robbed. It would be so easy to wait until no one's home and sneak in. There's nothing to get in the way, not even a dog. Her dad must have a false sense of security from living in a nice area.
'Un–fucking–believable. How Mr. C can leave his daughter home alone like that with no protection? What an asshole.'
Grumbling, he grabs the handles of the two trash cans next to the garage and drags them behind him. Chrissy said the trash truck comes a little after noon, so he's taking these big clunkers down to the curb for her. It's the least he can do to help out since she's making him food.
What a treat.
Spinning on his heel to head back, he pauses when that familiar feeling creeps up on him. Of course… There's a middle-aged woman across the street staring something fierce. Squinting with those beady eyes that give away too much. Yeah, he knows. A guy like him shouldn't be around here and is a real eyesore. Yada, yada. Too friggin' bad.
Feeling cheeky, Eddie smiles widely and waves with his right hand. With the flannel sleeves rolled up, it gives a good view of the puppet master tattoo on his forearm and the chain around his wrist. The woman recoils, scrunching up her face in a mix of disgust and alarm. She turns and quickly heads toward her home, glancing back every few seconds.
"Heh." He snorts, striding up the walkway toward Cunningham Castle. So that's what he gets for being a friendly neighbor, huh? These people have no manners. Looks like peace was never an option.
'Just the way I like it.'
After going into the house, the Hellfire leader kicks off his sneakers and places them next to the white flats sitting beneath the coat rack. His ears pick up noises coming from down the hall. So she's finally out…
Wandering into the kitchen, he sees Chrissy pulling out some pans. The cheerleader is in a light green tank top and white shorts, with her strawberry blonde hair hanging loose in damp waves. Stopping by the edge of the counter, he stands there and stares.
"Thanks for that. They're a little heavy for me." She puts a spatula down on the counter and turns toward him, smiling apologetically. "I would've had to make two trips."
It takes a moment to register what she said. Maybe the hangover is kicking his ass a little more than expected. "Yeah, no problem. Anytime."
'So damn cute.'
Chrissy goes back to moving around the kitchen, getting everything out to make them breakfast as he sits on a stool at the bar. A bowl, whisk, carton of eggs, package of bacon, and a bunch of other stuff. Tearing his eyes away from her, he focuses them on his rings. They can't be trusted at the moment. Those little bastards are in the mood to wander.
'I can't believe she has those.'
Eddie was being a naughty boy. Did something that probably wasn't a good idea. He has a bad habit of getting into stuff. Curiosity always got the best of him and this time, it really got him good. He wasn't ready. But would that ever be the case? Unlikely.
After gathering all the trash, a certain someone was taking a while in the shower, so he got bored. Well, maybe sidetracked is a better description. Leaving the bags near the front door, his dumbass crept upstairs and decided to check out the rest of those presents. He only rummaged through two out of a handful of them. That was a big mistake. But she said it was okay last night, right? So it should be fine. And he shouted before coming up, just in case.
What a fool.
There was a rolled-up bag behind the others. It was different. A shopping bag instead of a large gift one. Perhaps this is what he gets for sniffing around. There was a bunch of sexy stuff in it. A light pink babydoll nightgown. Pure white teddy. Bras and panties. So much silk and lace, and most of it sheer. He died. Soul just slipped right out of his mouth and hovered in the air for a while.
That is… until the shower turned off. No other time has he ever hauled ass like that. Getting caught looking at those would've been the end of his existence. It's better for her to see him being helpful and taking out the trash. Still, it's hard not to wonder… Did she pick them out? Or did someone get them for her?
'Don't think about it. Don't think about it… Maybe later. I need a distraction.'
"Hey, if you have a bobby pin, I can open that stereo cabinet for you while I'm here." She sounded a little disappointed before when mentioning how her dad keeps it locked up. Might as well have some music playing in the background.
"What?" Grabbing a dishrag to wipe her hands off, Chrissy looks at him curiously. "You can? With just that?"
"Hell yeah. It'd take me two seconds."
"And it won't ruin the lock or anything? Like, scratch it up? My dad notices little things like that." She seems bewildered just at the prospect. That's an old trick.
"Nah. No one would even tell it was open. As long as you lock it afterward, he'll never know."
"O–Okay." Her face lights up and she runs out of the kitchen to go upstairs. It only takes a few moments before she's back with the pin in one hand and the mixtape in the other, trying to catch her breath.
'That was fast… She's really excited.'
They both go into the den together where the stereo system is set up all nicely in the corner of the large room. "You're okay with this being ruined though, right?" He says, holding up the pin. She nods and watches eagerly as he bends it and crouches down, sliding it into the lock. As previously stated, it only takes a few seconds. "Ta–da!"
"Wow!" Chrissy's eyes widen and her hands clasp together, looking from the pin between his ringed fingers to the open glass cover in awe. "That's so cool. How did you learn to do that?"
Heat stings his face and neck from getting such an enthusiastic reaction. It's not that cool, but he won't say anything. She had a very similar response to him playing guitar at the middle school talent show after getting off stage. That messed him up back then, too. "I, uh… Just something I picked up as a kid. Works for other stuff too, like doors."
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah. There's a trick for everything. I'll show you a few handy ones sometime." Eddie stares at her for a moment before clearing his throat and turning back to the stereo. That look she's giving him… Like he's really impressive. Over nothing. "You guys have a pretty sweet system here. I'm jealous."
The cheer captain looks at him blankly, like she's not sure what to say to that, and just hands him the mixtape. A sliver of him feels a little weird about this because she was supposed to listen to it when he wasn't around. Allow him to save some face. From a music standpoint, it's like showing his ass. That wouldn't be a big deal if it wasn't in front of the chick he likes.
"Which side you want?" He asks, flipping the cassette case back and forth in his hand. To his discomfort, a slim finger comes down and taps on the demon's face. Of course she would. "You sure?"
"Yeah. I have all the time in the world to listen to the other one. Besides, I know those songs… And you're here."
"I don't mind listening to your stuff." They're on the same page as far as music goes. Neither is really interested in the other's preferences. That doesn't mean they can't appreciate it, though.
"I'll do that later with my walkman." She looks and sounds smug about it, putting emphasis on the last two words. That makes him feel good. "So, can we listen to B for now?"
"Yes, milady. Right away." Grinning, Eddie sets it up and adjusts the volume. Don't need the squares calling the cops this early on from getting spooked. Van Halen's 'Dance the Night Away' starts playing. The case is still in her hand when they head back to the kitchen.
"Have you seen her? So fine and pretty. Fooled me with her style and ease... And I feel her from across the room. Yes, it's love in the third degree."
"This is… Van Halen?" Chrissy glosses over the list of titles on the inside of the case as they walk down the hall, completely oblivious to her guest's suffering.
'Cool your jets, idiot.'
"Yep. My dude. You know that pail I keep my stash in? That's got his logo on it." Right now, he really needs David Lee Roth to shut up. At least the worst is over now. Why did he have to put that one first? Too on the nose.
"She's on fire, 'cause dancin' gets her higher than uh, anything else she knows… Ooh, baby baby. Won't-cha turn your head my way? Ooh, baby baby… Well don't skip romance 'cause you're old enough to dance the night away."
"Oh! That's what the 'V' thing is for." She nods to herself as they go back into the kitchen. He makes a beeline for the stool and is thankful her mind's more focused on breakfast than anything else. "How do you want your eggs? Scrambled, sunny side up, over easy… with cheese? Or an omelet? Maybe a frittata… What about bacon? Soft or crispy? Should I put in hash browns too? Some toast? What about to drink?" She starts rambling and going through the cabinets.
"Chrissy! Don't give me so many options. I'm a simple guy. Whatever you make is getting shoveled into my mouth and I'll like it. I'm not some five-star guest." He leans against the small back of the stool, crossing his arms. She doesn't need to get all flustered just making food for him. He's not that special.
She stares at him for a moment and whips her head back to the cabinet. "...To me you are."
His lips move to lob a retort, but it quickly falters. That's how she sees him? As a special guest? Well, there's no point arguing with her.
Chrissy sighs in annoyance and taps her foot against the floor. "Why did he have to put it there? " She stretches, getting on her tippy toes to reach a container up high. When that doesn't work, she looks around, probably to find something to climb on.
He smirks and slides off the stool, walking over to her. Little shrimp. "It's up there?" He points and she nods shyly. Eddie's not sure why he does it… Maybe the hangover's just really bad and thinking straight isn't working out too hot for him. But he grabs Chrissy by the sides and hoists her up.
"H–Hey!" she shouts, hands clinging to his forearms as her feet try to reach the edge of the counter for stability. The expression on the cheerleader's face just screams, 'what the hell are you doing?'. He cringes and looks down at the floor, letting his head hang in embarrassment. What a full-fledged idiot.
"I know, I know. Could've just grabbed it myself, but I already lifted you up by the time it hit me. Figured I might as well commit now that we're here." Christ, he can't stand himself sometimes. Such a moron. Self-immolation is sounding pretty good right about now.
"I, um… got it." Setting her back onto the floor, the Hellfire leader avoids glancing at her and whatever she grabbed. "Thanks." He just nods and goes back to the stool, deciding to keep his mouth shut to not make this any worse. "You're pretty strong."
'No, you're just really light.'
Not that she needs to hear it. If there's one thing he does know about chicks, it's that commenting on their weight is a huge no–go, even if it isn't insulting. Donna taught him that lesson during freshman year. Besides, lifting Chrissy up is a piece of cake. He's had more trouble moving large equipment around at bigger shows or getting drunks out of the way.
'I could toss her around so easily…'
Eddie shifts his jaw and goes back to watching her at the stove, pouring some egg mixture into a pan and pushing it around. How strange. When was the last time someone made him a homemade breakfast? His uncle tried before… That was barely edible, but it's the thought that counts.
"What do you want to drink?" She swings by and puts a heavy plate down in front of him. That was fast. Steam is still coming off the food. "That's not beer. Water? Orange juice? Milk?"
"Damn. I was really hoping to finish off the rest of that last six–pack… Guess I'll go with number three." Yeah, this is really off. Like some weird fever dream. Maybe it'll take some time to get used to stuff like this.
When she finally sits down with her plate, he can't help noticing how different their meals look. His has a ton of scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast. The one beside him looks almost empty. Just a small amount of eggs and one piece of toast.
'I'll fix that.'
"Looks really good." Right away, he starts digging in without a care. Yep. Fucking bangin'. It's a surprise that Chrissy Cunningham—daughter of some well-off snobs—can cook her ass off. Honestly, he originally thought they'd have a chef or some shit.
It doesn't take long to notice what she's doing. Sitting there, half-heartedly poking at the eggs with a fork. Biding time. Maybe waiting for him to finish up to get rid of some of it. Grabbing a piece of bacon, he tears a chunk from it and leans in.
"Hey." The cheer captain glances up at him and raises a brow when she sees what's between his fingers. "Have some." All she had last night was the wimpiest slice of pizza out of the box. That's not enough. And from the low rumbling his ears are picking up, he can tell she's hungry. "For me?"
"...Fine." Chrissy blushes and opens up, letting him slide the piece of bacon into her mouth. Good. At least she didn't give him a hard time. "Punk." He grins, going back to his food. Every so often, he'll stop to feed her while trying not to overdo it. That's a bad idea without knowing exactly what the problem is.
"Oh, man… You did it. I really didn't think it was possible, but you pulled it off." That gets him a curious look. "I'm full." He leans back, patting his stomach. That's after giving some of it away too.
"Good." She giggles, taking their plates and putting them in the sink. Silently watching her get to work washing dishes, he leans against the heel of his palm. So this is what it feels like, huh? Not bad.
'Dammit…'
Seeing the time on the stove, a heavy sigh comes out. It's already 12:14. That's a shame. It flew by too fast.
"I, uh… gotta head out real soon. Promised Ms. H I'd stop by around noon to fix her sink and I got band practice." Nibbling on the side of his lip, he feels crappy when her shoulders drop a little.
"Ms. H?"
"Henderson's mom. You know, that kid with the white and blue hat in my club?"
"I remember. One of the freshmen, right? He seems really nice." Eddie rolls his eyes at that. Yeah, Henderson's a good dude, even though he can be a snarky little butthead sometimes. "So you can draw, pick locks, fix sinks—"
"Shred like hell and roll a mean ass joint. Don't forget that." His lips curl up while staring at her back warmly.
"Of course. How could I?" Putting the last dish into the strainer, she turns around and pushes up against the counter while drying her hands off.
"I can do a lot more than that. I'm something of a handyman too. And kinda a self–taught mechanic. Well, amateur mechanic… Still working on that last part."
Chrissy smiles and reaches up to tug on a lock of hair. "I'll keep that in mind for when I finally get a car." That raises a good question. Why doesn't she drive? The Cunninghams are well off. Her dad could get a real nice car with just his pocket change, like most of the jocks and preps. "A jack of all trades. You must be really skilled."
"What can I say? I've always been good with my hands. They're my greatest asset." Holding them up to show off, he notices the tinge of pink spreading across her face. Did she get something different from that than intended? He gives her a sly look and is surprised when she saunters over.
'What's she doing?'
Eddie freezes when she comes closer, stopping just a few inches away. Just gazing at his hands. He sucks his lips in when the cheer captain snatches up the left one, pulling it towards her. She turns it back and forth, studying it. Touching the rings and tracing the lines on his palm with a fingertip.
'Holy shit! What is she doing?!'
Dark eyes dart from the woman holding his hand to the appendage, unsure of what to do. Is she expecting him to do something? Is he supposed to? This has him rattled. It shouldn't, but it does.
"It's a lot bigger than mine. Your fingers are long. I guess that's good for playing guitar." Is Chrissy trying to kill him? If that's the case, she's halfway there. Between images of the lingerie upstairs and this, he's spiraling. What to do? This chick sends mixed signals sometimes. Confusing ones at that. It's the tone that's really throwing him off.
'Is she… hitting on me?'
"Yep. They're good for a lot of things." Goddammit. There he goes. Now it's like there's a block of lead sitting in his chest. The fingers touching his hand pause. Uh-oh. Slowly, he glances up at her face, wondering what expression she's wearing.
The cheer captain stares at him blankly, giving nothing away. It's impressive and frustrating. Why is it when he wants to read her the most that she's more difficult than usual? "I'll keep that in mind, too." She grins and pats the back of his hand before turning away, leaving him stunned.
'Gotta go.'
Eddie awkwardly gets up and grabs his jacket off the stool where he left it last night. Getting the message, she follows behind as he walks out of the kitchen. The length of the house seems so much longer compared to earlier. When they reach the front door, he quickly slips his sneakers on and takes a deep breath.
"Thanks for everything. I'm really glad you came." Chrissy smiles sweetly, and that makes him feel worse.
"Of course. Wasn't gonna let your birthday totally suck." He grins, using an arm to draw her in for a quick hug. Turns out to be not so quick. She wraps hers around his waist and holds him there. Almost reluctant to let go. Honestly, the feeling's mutual. "I'll see you later."
"...Okay."
Pursing his lips, he rushes out the door and to the van. Cursing the whole way. It's not until hopping into the driver's side and slamming the door that any semblance of relief comes. And a cigarette. He needs it. His body's all jittery and warm. Looking back at the house finally, the front door closes. She's out of sight.
This blows. Whenever Chrissy's around, he usually has two modes: cool guy or complete dumbass. Sometimes a bit of both. Now 'coward' can be added to the mix. For a person who likes jumping headfirst into stupid crap all the time, he's disappointed in himself.
"Christ." Starting up the van, he hits the gas and whips out of the driveway. What a moron. Getting all goofy over small stuff... He's got metal and art magazines with way worse shit than anything she has in her room. Chicks at shows wear a lot less or end up that way. Nothing new. None of that really fazes him. It's just skin. Who cares? But she just gets him so frazzled sometimes that it's maddening. It really doesn't take much.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, Eddie frowns at the reflection, flicking the side of it. "Fuckin' wuss." Now that they're apart and there's a chance to reflect, it's more obvious. He really needs to get it together. That can't happen again. What was the point of everything if he turns into a big chicken shit when it counts?
'Next time… I'm not running.'
The book Eddie gave as a present is certainly interesting so far. There haven't been any mentions of D&D, so it might not be related.
There's a race of beings called hobbits and a wizard named Gandalf. A really old guy has a birthday party where he gives his nephew, Frodo, a special ring. The wizard tells him the ring needs to go, so he joins up with a few other hobbits and they leave the Shire to go on a mission. So far, so good. It's still pretty early in the story.
Laying on her stomach across the bed, Chrissy flips another page while humming a tune. So this is what the Hellfire Club is into? No wonder they all have such wild imaginations. She kicks her legs back and forth in the air, feeling fuzzy inside. He gave her this so she can understand them better.
'I'll have to get the other ones, too.'
Checking the clock, it's already after ten. The bookmark sitting on the duvet gets shoved into the book and it's placed on the nightstand. She can find out more about Frodo's journey tomorrow. Between having a hangover, hanging out with Eddie, and spending almost two hours on a three-way call with Charlotte and Natalie, she's tired.
'This is great.'
They have plans for Tuesday. Big ones. Charlotte agreed to take her to the BMV after school to take the driving test. If all goes well, she'll walk out of that building with her driver's license. It's nerve-wracking. Thankfully, the brunette's going to let her practice in the Riviera both days since she's a little rusty.
Finally, she can take some control back. A legal adult with a driver's license. All that's left is a car and a high school diploma. After that, the sky's the limit. Even if things get bad here, she can drive off or if worse comes to worst, stay in the car for a bit. These are the first steps in gaining some independence and a little freedom.
'Would Eddie know where to get a used car for cheap?'
Maybe it's from being around him, but it feels like the shackles have loosened up. They're lighter, more slack. Perhaps she can slip out of them? Or is that being overly hopeful? He makes it seem possible.
'I like him…'
Chrissy doesn't need to add 'think' to that sentence. It was a little startling to admit to herself and trudged up a lot of guilt. Her boyfriend would be furious. That's not fair to him, but there's a remedy for that.
Not having one.
After last night and spending more time with Eddie, she's angry. Angry that Jason either can't understand her feelings or doesn't want to. Why can his 'enemy' that she's been talking to for barely a month pick up when she's uncomfortable, yet he can't after years of knowing each other? That's bull. She's tired of being left on the sidelines and not asked for any input, even in matters that involve her.
'How is this supposed to work?'
What's the best way to go about it? Just spit it out? Write a letter? Send a messenger? She's never broken up with someone before. Jason won't take it well. That makes her really uneasy. The thought of confronting him is scary, especially after seeing how angry he can get. It needs to be done in a place that's semi-public, but not with a bunch of people around. Embarrassing him will only make it worse.
"Ugh!" Sliding to the edge of the bed, she gets up and heads to the bathroom. This entire thing will be unpleasant, no matter how it's handled. Just thinking about people's reactions is stressful. It's unavoidable. Forcing a relationship with a guy who disregards her comfort and well-being is too much. Saturday night made it painfully clear what a future with him will entail. Never again.
Shutting the door behind herself, Chrissy walks up to the bathroom mirror and stares at it. A hand reaches up to take out the green scrunchie holding her hair together. The strawberry blonde locks drop along her shoulders, loose and wavy. It felt good to have someone run their fingers through it.
Part of her wishes he could be there when it happens. That would provide some much-needed support and confidence. It'd also start a fistfight. No, that won't do. She can't hide behind Eddie, even if he makes her feel safe. Everything will be okay. He'll be there after it's over. Hopefully. That's confusing as well. Trying to figure out what's going on between them.
'I'm pretty sure he likes me too… Right?'
If that's not the case, how embarrassing. They can still be friends though. She sighs and grabs her toothbrush from the holder, getting to work. Just fulfilling the nightly ritual while thinking. Rinsing her mouth out, another thought pops up. Say the feeling is mutual, and she breaks it off with Jason… What then?
Dropping the toothbrush back in the holder, Chrissy squints at the reflection and messes with her bangs. It seems weird to imagine Eddie being someone's boyfriend. There's a chance he doesn't do the whole 'relationship' thing. She doesn't recall him dating anyone at school. People would've lost it. Then again, with The Hideout and the whole music scene, he has a totally different pool to play in.
'I'm going to bum myself out. Stop it.'
None of that really matters. It's better to focus on what's important. Like getting her license and a car. With that, she can start taking dance lessons again. The drive won't be a big deal. Yeah. And in the morning, she'll talk to Jason. Someone else will have to give her rides to school after that.
"Chrissy?"
Every muscle tenses up hearing the soft voice. It's sickly sweet, coated in honey to lure her out. Always was at first. "Chrissy?" A lump forms in her throat. That's right on the other side of the door. So close. Blue eyes squeeze shut, and she sucks in her lips, biting down on them while trying to steady her breathing. "Come out, sweetie. Everyone's already downstairs in the parlor. I can't wait until they see the dress I picked out for you."
'It's not real. This happened before. That isn't her. It's just a hallucination.'
"Chrissy!" A loud bang comes from the other side like a fist just slammed against it.
"Ah!" Backing away from the sink, she stares at the door wide-eyed, trembling from head to toe. A hand presses against her chest, trying to keep her racing heart from bursting out of its cage.
"Chrissy! This is the last goddamn time I'm warning you! Open. The. Door. NOW!" The lights start flickering, going berserk. Blows from the other side make the door shake, its handle rattling wildly. Something's trying to get in.
"No, no, no…" The pounding keeps getting louder and angrier. Just like the voice. Chrissy keeps backing up until smacking against the side of the tub, falling into it.
"Don't you dare humiliate me in front of everyone! Get out here right this minute!"
"S–Stop! Stop! Go away!" She screams, pushing herself into the corner and pulling the curtain closed. There's nowhere to run. No phone to call anyone or window to escape through. The house is empty. No one's around to help.
"You ungrateful, spoiled brat! I told your father this would happen! Running the streets at night like a little harlot. A worthless whore! What an embarrassment! Open the door, Chrissy! Or I'll break it down, then you'll really be sorry!"
"Go away! Please! Stop!" Curling into a ball to make herself as small as possible, she's too scared to move. The door bursts open, slamming against the wall. An icy breeze rushes through the bathroom. Goosebumps break out across her skin from the chill in the air. A sob comes from the cheerleader cowering behind the curtain, certain that whatever's standing at the entrance won't have any mercy on her. This time might be the last.
'It's going to kill me!'
The lights stop flashing. Chrissy tries to control her breathing enough to listen for any noises. Nothing. Minutes pass by that seem like an eternity, waiting for whatever comes next. Is it sitting there until she comes out? Or did it leave? Shaky fingers reach up to peel the edge of the curtain back. Hesitantly peeking from the side, nothing's there. Just the bathroom door wide open.
When cheer practice begins, Chrissy is not nearly as enthusiastic as usual. It's Monday. This is only the first of three sessions the team has on a weekly basis. Sometimes, a game falls on one of those days. It depends on the schedule. The tournament's in full swing. Next week is the deciding match that determines if the Tigers are in the regionals.
Holding back a yawn, her lids feel extra heavy. Getting a wink of sleep last night was impossible. Who could? She doesn't know what to think anymore. Part of her thought it was over. Maybe that was stupid. Only a little over a week passed after that incident in the school bathroom. Accepting she's losing it doesn't change how scary it is. Telling herself they're not real won't make them less frightening.
'Nothing is going how I hoped it would.'
Dealing with Jason didn't pan out well, either. After getting in the car, it took a while for her to finally speak. Between having no sleep and still being shaken up, the task seemed more daunting than imagined. Perhaps mentioning they needed to talk set off alarm bells for him. Or he just really wasn't in the mood to have a conversation.
"Can't it wait? I just got done with my dad chewing me out and we're already behind. Later, okay?"
Not feeling as brave as she did when Eddie left, the matter was quickly dropped. Maybe later… Without knowing what to do, burying herself in activities and friends is all she has at the moment. Going back to the basics.
'I'm tired.'
Hiding has always been easy. This time it's behind a smile again instead of in a corner of the tub. Chrissy's not sure how much more of this she can take… Being stuck. Feeling trapped. Part of her just wants to run away and never look back. Perhaps that's the coward inside poking its head up. Sure, there was a wonderful reprieve from everything for a bit. A small window of what could be. A life where she can explore, figure herself out, and have a little fun. Then reality always has to barge in and kick her in the teeth, ruining all the work that she's put in.
'Maybe I'm meant to spend a life of having what I want dangling within reach, only to be hit when I go for it.'
Still, there are people staring at her right now who are waiting patiently for this pity party to end. She has responsibilities. Not everything is about her. It's time to once again push everything aside and focus. She smiles and straightens out her pleated green skirt before beginning.
"Okay, so I was thinking of a few new routines we can work on. Something fresh for regionals coming up. Maybe we can have a new set for the finals too... if we make it there." Chrissy looks out at the squad sitting on chairs around the board she's standing next to. Ms. Tina doesn't come back until next week, so it's up to her to keep the show running. When she flips the large chalkboard over, a bunch of chuckles and snorts break out.
It's contagious. This happens every time. A hand covers her mouth to hide the grin growing behind it.
All eyes are on the stick figures posing in chalk. It's become a running joke at this point. She's a terrible artist… Every time they plan out positions or introduce new routines, the coach or captain uses this chalkboard to give the team a rudimentary idea of what it'll look like while explaining.
But Chrissy's so bad at drawing that she creates the sloppiest stick figures in existence and it makes everyone laugh. Instead of getting upset, she began leaning into it, making them more ridiculous as time went on. Now she enjoys their reactions, and it lightens up the mood. The team began looking forward to seeing what horrendous imagery she'll come up with next.
Once it dies down and everyone gets ahold of themselves, she dives right into a step–by–step breakdown. As much as it pains her to say it, some of Ms. Tina's ideas aren't the best. This season, more of the moves seem sort of… lackluster. Not that she wants to tell her that. It's just that Chrissy expects a little more pizzazz and knows the team is capable of it.
'As long as I'm captain, this team isn't going out in front of everyone and doing some boring routine. It'll put people to sleep.'
"My sister was being a real pain in the ass about it—"
The Hellfire crew sitting at the lunch table laugh at Wheeler's complaints. Something about Nancy bitching him out for taking crap that isn't his. Or whatever. Eddie's not really paying much attention to what they're saying. He's too irked. Glancing over at the jock section, he discreetly looks at Chrissy again. She's acting weird and not in a good way.
They haven't talked at all since Sunday when he left to go to Henderson's. Not a word passed between them. No calls, either. Unless his uncle let the phone ring and ring again or took it off the hook.
It's not a big deal. Since this whole thing started, multiple days flew by in a row where they didn't hang out or talk. But they'd still look at each other. After her birthday, he thought things might be different. No, they're worse. She hasn't turned in his direction once in three days. At least, that he's aware of…
He even bumped into Chrissy on purpose twice since going back to school and she just kept walking with her head down. The second time almost accidentally knocked her over, which got him cursed out by that redhead the moment she was out of sight. He kind of deserved it, so no hard feelings. The chick was just trying to be a good friend.
Looking at the cheerleader from across the cafeteria, she's sitting there talking to people while dipshit Jason has his arm wrapped around her shoulders. That's another problem. Getting her alone in this place is close to impossible. There's always someone trailing close by. It's annoying. What can he expect from the Queen of Hawkins High? The sweet captain that's nice to everyone?
'They don't know the real her.'
Chrissy is sweet and nice to everyone, but the mask she's wearing to put everyone at ease bothers him. He wants to smash it. She's not fucking fine. The shadows forming beneath her eyes are apparent from a mile away. He also caught her slipping food onto someone's tray when they weren't paying attention.
'She's getting bad again.'
It's none of his business, really. He's not her boyfriend. Just a friend. Sort of. Another dirty little secret. Expecting anything else was stupid. It's why he told himself not to get his hopes up from the beginning, but he's a stubborn idiot who doesn't listen.
"Did you see that special 60 Minutes did on D&D?" Gareth asks, taking a sip from a juice carton. That grabs his attention and ire. "Such bullshit. Now my mom's all paranoid."
Jeff scoffs, shaking his head. They've all heard about it. People already get their panties in a twist over the club's chosen hobby. "That was dumb as hell. They made it out into something it's not. You can tell none of them ever played it."
"As usual, they don't know what they're talking about." Henderson lets out a deep breath, snatching up a fry from his tray.
"We're not hurting anyone. It's just a game."
"Yeah, a fantasy game." Eddie snorts, feeling himself getting more annoyed. This is getting real old, real fast. That dumb special is just adding fuel to the fire. Squares from all over, sitting on their couches while watching cable, are drinking the Kool-Aid and buying into this crap. "We're the freaks because we enjoy playing a game they don't understand. Sounds about right!" Smacking his hands down, he pushes out his chair and puts a foot on the edge of the table, hopping up.
The others know exactly what's about to happen. Their faces give it away. A mix of amusement and curiosity, especially from the little sheep. His bandmates expect nothing less. It's time to let everyone have it again. He's angry now and needs to let out some steam. And it's not just about 60 Minutes.
"Everything else is cool though! Wanna whack it to formulas and test tubes? Fine." He steps around the trays on the table, walking towards the end. Closer to the middle to address the masses properly. It earns him a wide array of reactions as the students realize what time it is. Annoyance, disgust, rolling their eyes, cracking their knuckles. Go ahead. Try him. He's not in the mood.
"Drink and dance and listen to Billboard bullshit? Aye okay, man!" The science geeks and party kids narrow their eyes on him as he gives the latter a big thumbs up. Screw them, even if they're good for business. They know. If they want their party favors, don't mess with the dealer. It's that simple. People don't have a hissy fit over their hobbies, so why does his club get such a bad rap? That's bullshit.
"How about chasing asses and dribbling balls? Perfect!" He cups his hands and gets louder, aiming his blade right at the jock table. The ones that get on his nerves the most. "God forbid someone doesn't toe the line! Maybe some of us don't want to keep our mouths shut like good little boys. We're not a bunch of frauds!"
His gaze lands on the small cheerleader sitting at the table. Right next to the head jock, who looks absolutely pissed. As usual. Those big blue eyes are fixed on him. Finally, he's got her attention. It only took three friggin' days. "Some of us are okay being ourselves and doing what we want instead of always ignoring shit and pretending everything's okay."
Eddie's an idiot. He knows that and never tried to deny it. That's caused him a lot of trouble over the years. This time, he really fucked up. Got too riled up from stewing in his feelings and let it fly without thinking.
Chrissy stares at him for a moment before her bottom lip starts quivering. It looks like she's about to tear up as her gaze shifts downward, away from him and into her lap.
'Shit, shit, shit!'
"You got a problem, freak?" Captain Toolbox gets up and walks around the table, heading his way. The Hellfire leader's pissed enough to scowl and spit. Not just at this dumbass, but himself. It doesn't take a genius to realize how that sounded altogether.
After taking it this far, he's got to follow through by doing what Jason hates most. Throwing up the devil horns and wagging his tongue, grinning as the captain seethes. The club members laugh and carry on behind him. This isn't out of the ordinary. They've done this song and dance plenty of times by now.
"Asshole," Jason mutters under his breath, turning away. When he takes his seat, Chrissy tries to get up, probably to run away and cry somewhere, but he puts a hand on her upper arm. Pulling the cheerleader back down, he leans in and whispers something in her ear. Whatever's said is enough to get her to sit down and keep her eyes lowered.
Eddie's frown deepens as everyone goes back to their lunch now that prime time is over. They're all just waiting for the day it ends in a fight. The vultures… Marching back down the table, he flops down in his seat and grabs some trail mix from his bag. That might've just set things back a few steps. Maybe more. Wouldn't be the first time his big mouth ruined something for him.
"What was that?" Henderson scoots over, raising a brow. This isn't about the rant itself. That's not too wild. No, he's pretty perceptive.
"Nothing." He says gruffly, biting down on a pretzel twist harder than necessary.
Gazing down at the shiny card in her hands, Chrissy smiles softly. She did it. She finally got her driver's license. The test itself really wasn't that hard. This could've been done a while ago if only her dad signed the paperwork. Well, that's in the past. There's no need to get permission anymore.
'I can sign my own stuff now.'
"We should celebrate." Charlotte reaches over to ruffle her hair. She grins and fixes it, not minding at all. Thank goodness for girlfriends like her and Natalie. They were such a big help with everything. It's just a shame she can't be completely open with them.
"What do you want to do?" The redhead pokes her head out from the backseat.
"Whatever you guys want. You know I'm not picky." It really doesn't matter. As long as it doesn't involve going home yet. She's just too tired to care where they go. The energy from that cup of coffee from before the test has long expired. A little pick–me–up so she could pay attention and not doze off while at the BMV.
"Let's go shopping, then hit up the theater. There's a new movie that came out I'm dying to see. A romantic comedy. I can't remember the name though… Does that sound okay, Chris?" Charlotte says, turning onto the highway.
"Yeah, I'm game." Sliding the license into her purse, Chrissy quietly sighs and stares out at the woods alongside the road. Maybe a romantic comedy will hit the spot. Or not. Her own 'love life' isn't going so great.
'Why did he say that?'
The cheer captain sinks against the seat, slowly deflating. Eddie must be mad at her… Is it because she didn't break up with Jason yet? It's not from a lack of trying. There have already been a handful of attempts that keep ending the same way. With him acting dodgy or changing the subject. Being assertive isn't easy. None of this is. This is all new to her, and things haven't been going well either.
Another issue has her nervous to act. The Tigers are in the middle of a tournament. They're close to getting into regionals. The school's paper, The Weekly Streak, runs updates and articles about the team's progress. So does the local news. People are invested. Winning this and breaking the twenty–two–year losing streak is a big deal. It'll bring media attention and funds from the state to their corner of the woods. Hawkins High hasn't had this many eyes on it in a long time.
If she ends it with Jason and the team loses, they'll get booted from the championships. Even if the Tigers would've lost anyway, everyone and their mother will blame her. The disappointment reserved for the losing captain will be aimed at Chrissy instead. People will say getting dumped messed up his performance. Why did she do it? Why couldn't it wait a month until the tournament was over? When they're this close? It's not that far away… How can someone be so selfish? It'll be a constant string of abuse from all sides, even from those who don't know her.
'And my dad. He'd be absolutely livid… I don't know what to do.'
The shackles are getting tighter, dragging her down even further. She's trapped. There's no simple way out that ends well. Running away isn't much of an option. Having a driver's license is a good first step, but is essentially useless without a car to drive. And what if she does? What then? She's never had a job and doesn't know how to get a place. None of the money in the account is hers. Nothing is. Where does someone start?
It all feels useless… And she keeps having bad thoughts lately. Ones that genuinely scare her. They keep popping up out of the blue. Like a voice whispering terrible things in her ear, trying to egg her on. There are a lot of things that she's afraid of. Spiders, the dark, deep bodies of water, bats, urban legends, desolate areas, small spaces, snakes… Finding herself on that list is horrifying.
'I need help.'
This is hard… Now Eddie might be angry at her. He's right. She is a fraud and coward who ignores stuff and pretends everything's okay. Chrissy already knows that. Just hearing it come from him really hurt. It's like taking the part of herself she despises the most and shoving it in her face with everyone watching.
That broke her heart. Those are things he hates about people. They're unfortunately a big part of her. She just wanted to run to the bathroom and cry, but Jason wouldn't let her. He said not to go or it'll just give the Hellfire leader the satisfaction of knowing his rant got under their skin. They can't let that happen. He doesn't understand…
"What's wrong, Chris? You not feeling it?" Charlotte glances over and raises a brow above her sunglasses.
"No, no. That's not it. I'm excited!" Hopefully that puts her at ease. It seems to do the trick.
"Let me get another one." Eddie downs the rest of his beer and slaps it on the counter, sucking in a big gulp of air.
"You sure, Hoss? You still gotta get up there." Dom chuckles, leaning over the bar.
"Yeah, just keep 'em coming." Who gives a shit? He can play like crazy even in a coma. A few beers won't affect his performance.
"Okay, man." The older man shakes his head and puts another bottle on the bar, sliding it across the smooth surface. The glass clangs against his rings when he puts out a hand to stop it, gripping it tightly.
'You just don't know when to shut the fuck up, huh?'
This isn't the first time his mouth got him in some shit. It's part of the reason nothing ever works out. That goes for chicks, too. It's even gotten him bitch slapped before. That sucked… Unless it's music or dealing crap, he's good for nothing. Maybe downing beers. That he can manage just fine.
'Chrissy is probably upset. Wouldn't blame her.'
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Damn. It wasn't meant to go that way. Sure, he was going on a tirade. Surprise, surprise. When she finally looked at him, he switched gears to give a little push and make sure she didn't forget about him, but it was all part of the same rant. She likely thinks the entire thing was directed at her. No way. But Chrissy was two seconds from crying. That wasn't supposed to happen. It's something dickhead would do. Not him.
"Hey, we gotta start setting up." Gareth puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Gotcha." He throws back the beer and slides off the stool, following his bandmates to the back. They're going on soon. Another wonderful Tuesday night at The Hideout.
"That was… intense," Jeff says as they come out to the main area of the bar. The lights still haven't been switched back to their normal color yet. Everything's bathed in red. Seems strangely fitting.
"Yeah." Grant pipes up, giving him a nudge. "You sure were going all out." All the big guy gets in response is a halfhearted nod.
Eddie's drenched. Sweat dripping from the tips of his curly hair and seeping through the band shirt he's wearing. That's normal after playing. Maybe not as bad. The black bandana gets yanked out to wipe his face off. It's obvious what they're really saying. He was going hard on the strings. Probably too hard. Even if they're new, abuse like that will wear them down.
"You know what they say. Go hard or go home." He grins, trying to laugh it off. If anyone knows how to not mistreat a guitar, it's him. For the second time today, he was acting out and letting his emotions hop in the driver's seat.
Dom sets some beers down on the counter like he does every time they come in. Bands that play here usually get the first round free. The second as well, if Donna likes them. Regulars who keep coming back that she likes can start a tab. Get some freebies too. He's had one since sophomore year that always gets paid off eventually. No point in shooting himself in the foot.
"Donna, can you give me something stronger?" Playing over the last hour sobered him up a bit. That won't do. The dark-haired woman looks up from the drink she's already making, quirking a brow. Yeah, he knows. Not the norm. Whatever.
"Anything in particular?"
"Nah, just nothing sweet. You know what? Just let me get a few shots. Your choice." It doesn't matter. He's in a shit mood. First, the water's fucked up back home. That happens. Not an unusual occurrence in the park. It can last a few hours or a couple of days. There's no telling. He can't even take a shower right now without going to someone else's place.
Then there was an argument with the drama teacher at school about using the room for their meetings. She's claiming they left messes behind and small props are MIA. That's horseshit. Eddie always makes sure everything is straight for that reason. He knows how people are. They'll look for any excuse to give his club the boot. And that's the only room he could secure. It's annoying, but he refuses to let some theater snob push them around.
That stupid 60 Minutes episode that aired didn't help. All it did was stir up fear and paranoia about D&D. Trying to connect it to a cult and Satan worship… So stupid. People are dumb enough to believe anything they hear.
Last but certainly not least, the crap going on with Chrissy. Part of him was hoping she'd show up to see him play again. Wishful thinking. Knowing her, she'll probably avoid him like the plague so things don't get awkward.
'Tough titty. I'm gonna talk to her tomorrow. Tell her what's up.'
When Donna puts a double shot glass on the bar and pours some whiskey in front of him, she observes him curiously, but he keeps his eyes trained on his rings. She sets the open bottle on the counter and walks away.
'She's the best.'
He quickly throws back the shot and grimaces, smacking his lips together. Then pours another. The heat pooling in his stomach feels good. Later… probably not so much. Glancing down the row, the other guys are chatting with some dudes at the end of the bar. A handful of newbies. Normally, that'd be him right next to them. After they're done playing, he's loud and all over the place. It's just not a good night.
Pulling out his pack, he lights up a cigarette and takes a drag. Drinking's just not the same without a smoke. Another shot is downed, and another gets poured.
"What's wrong, Eddie?" Donna sighs, leaning on the counter.
"Don't you got customers to take care of?" It comes out harsher than intended. That might earn him a smack.
"Dom's handling it. Besides, seeing you being a sulky little shit over here is distracting. What's up? Usually you're causing me problems, not behaving." Her eyes narrow on him suspiciously. Does this really count as behaving? Maybe compared to his regular antics.
"Can't a guy just sit here and drink?" Why can't people just let him be? Sometimes a person just needs time and space to think things through. Or mope. It's better to do it with some alcohol. Maybe that'll help him sort out his feelings.
"Cut the crap. Now what's the matter? Something with the girlfriend?"
He frowns at that. "Chrissy's not my girlfriend."
"Oh, I know. She's already got a boyfriend. Or, so I've been told." Donna's lips curl up like she just tasted something nasty.
Eddie lets out a sharp exhale through his nose and glances at the guys again. Those rats… But he's not mad at them. He knows how Donna is. She's super pushy and uses anything to her advantage to get what she wants. Nosey as hell, too. A bad combo. Knowing his bandmates, it'd take 2 minutes of being with her for them to spill their guts.
"Wish I knew that last week. I would've had a little talk with her." She says, pouring herself a shot and throwing it back. "I warned her not to do anything that might hurt you. I think this counts."
"Can you not? She's not the problem. I am." The last thing he needs is Chrissy getting scared off because of her, even if she means well. He does a great job of screwing things up on his own without getting any help.
"Doubt it. You're a good dude. A bit of a mess and a major pain in the ass, but still a good dude."
"So?" The Hellfire leader scoffs. Yeah, right. Good dudes don't make chicks cry. They don't run away with their tail between their legs, either. "We're just friends, so none of that matters."
"Bullshit. You've been coming here for what… five, six years? Something like that. I know how you are." What the hell is that supposed to mean? She gives him that knowing look that's super annoying, tapping her fingers against the glass.
"Donna," he sighs, running a hand through his sweaty mop. "You're ruining the whiskey. I really don't wanna talk about this." His brow furrows as he looks up. The framed Iron Maiden album picture above the row of liquor bottles is starting to look fuzzy.
'Shit.'
That was too much. Before going on stage, he was downing beers like it's his job. Now he's had over three double shots—the counting stopped after that—and is about to take another. Eddie was already hot before, now he's roasting alive in his skin. There's a layer of sweat across his body, running down his face and soaking through everything. He grabs the bandana and gives it another go.
"Nothing ruins whiskey except for Grenadine, but I think you've had enough." The tatted woman goes to grab the bottle and he snatches it up, pouring it right into his mouth. "Eddie! You son of a bitch!" She leans over to wrestle it from him and isn't given much of a fight. "I'm gonna kick your ass…" The threat is hissed menacingly as she storms off, taking the whiskey with her. Yeah… There's a real beatdown waiting for him after sobering up.
"Fuck." Stifling a burp, it's a struggle to sit straight against the stool without swaying to the side. Yep. He overdid it. The guys might have to carry his ass out of here. Taking another drag, he eyes the beer Dom gave him after coming out from the back. Might as well… Go hard or go home, right?
His eyelids feel extra heavy as his head falls back, staring up at the ceiling. There are more lights in this bar than he remembers. They're a lot brighter, too. Who the hell did that? Assholes.
Groaning, he pushes himself forward to rest against the counter. Too much, too fast. It was a bad idea to rush it instead of taking his time. Maybe Donna would've left the bottle here and there'd be more to drink.
'I wanna see Chrissy.'
That's not going to happen. He's too messed up now. It might end up with him driving the van through her place. If making it there was a possibility. Very unlikely. He'd probably find himself wrapped around a tree before getting anywhere near that side of town. And it would just end with him saying something stupid if they were face to face, especially like this. That already happens enough as it is.
"Hey, buddy." A hand slaps against Eddie's back and he groggily lifts his head to see who's bothering him. It's Jax. What the hell does he want? As usual, the guy's extremely drunk.
"Whaddya want?" Glancing at the ashtray, the cigarette left in there is little more than a burning butt. A new one is pulled out and lit.
"C'mon, man. Chill out. I'm not here to start shit. Besides…" He looks over at Donna and Dom, who are taking care of customers. "I brought a peace offering. Eh? Eh?"
'This motherfucker…'
"Whatever, dude." Jax glances over again, then pours some whiskey into the shot glass. The Hellfire leader watches him suspiciously. He doesn't really trust this guy. Hasn't for a while. Dark eyes narrow on the liquor, checking for any irregularities before lifting the glass and sniffing the edge.
"Jeez. I didn't do nothin' to it. We haven't talked in a while. Figured it wouldn't hurt."
"It might. And we haven't talked in a while because you're always messed up and trying to start shit with me." They used to get along. Pretty well, too.
"I know, I know… Got some crazy stuff going on. Why don't we just do some shots and put that past us, huh?"
Eddie glances at him from the side as he takes the shot. It burns like it's supposed to. Tastes fine. Appears okay. Jax doesn't. He's wasted, having a hard time keeping upright. His appearance is more disheveled compared to before. The dude's going through it. He doesn't need to know the details to understand that. And it seems like he's trying to make an effort… Perhaps giving him a small chance wouldn't hurt.
"Fine." Sighing, he puts the shot glass back on the counter to get refilled. Why not?
"Jax! Don't you dare give him any more to drink!" Donna shrieks from down the bar. He stares at her while filling the glass, close to making it spill over. "You little shits!" Eddie quickly throws it back before she gets to them. An arm reaches over and plucks the bottle out of his hands.
"Alright, guys. Glad you're talking and all, but you're flagged. Both of you are two seconds from falling off your seats. If I to drive one of you to the hospital, I'm gonna be pissed." Dom leans in closer and whispers. "You're worrying Donna. Knock it off before I bust your heads in." Then walks off.
"Pshh. Buzzkill." Jax says, patting his jacket and reaching into the inner pocket to pull out a nip of vodka. "I got a few more. Ya want one?"
He shakes his head. Dom's not wrong. Needing to go to the hospital would be pretty lame. Having his stomach pumped is a waste of good alcohol.
"Sorry about last week, man. Wasn't trying to start a fight in front of your girlfriend. Sometimes my mouth just runs like a duck's behind."
Eddie quirks a brow, trying to remember what happened as he leans off to the side. Last week? A fight in front of his girlfriend? He's got a girlfriend?
'What the hell…'
His eyes dart back and forth across the wall, replaying the last week. Oh, yeah. That asshole made a scene and called Chrissy a hot demon girl. He's right about one thing. She's hot as hell. It's none of that guy's business, though. He needs to mind his own. And she isn't a demon.
"Not my girlfriend." If this needs to be said one more time… Why is everyone making him repeat himself?
"Oh. Good." He feels his eye twitch at that. What's that supposed to mean?
'Maybe we can't get along after all. Alcohol or not.'
"You're better off staying away from that chick. Ain't nothing but trouble." Chrissy? Trouble? It's almost difficult to contain the laughter. Who could say something so dumb with a straight face? He's the trouble. Not her. She's an angel. Still, regulars at the bar are always wary of his 'warnings'. Despite being a shitfaced idiot, the guy has a bad habit of being right when it really counts. The whole broken clock thing.
"The hell you talkin' about, man?"
"The moment I looked at her… I could see it. She's cursed. If you're smart, you'll dip now before it's too late. It'll save ya from a world of pain, my dude." The slight grin on his face fades. He might be too drunk. There's some weird shit being said that's starting to really piss him off. If Jax is smart, he would've stopped talking about Chrissy about one minute ago. His eyes narrow on the guy to warn him to knock it off.
"...Now would be a good time to stop."
But he doesn't. "That girl… She ain't long for this world if you catch my drift."
Eddie gets up and grabs Jax by the collar of his shirt, shoving him up against the bar. "What the fuck did you just say?!" Between the alcohol, the taunts over the past weeks, all the things going on outside of this bar, and now him blubbering some crazy stuff about her being cursed or dying or whatever, he's too angry to think straight. Who wants to hear crap like that? This might be the first time he really wanted to smash someone's face in.
Instead of itching for a fight as usual, he looks surprised and holds his hands up defensively. "Woah, woah, dude. Chill! It's not my fault!"
Dom hops over the bar with a bat in hand. "Alright. Break it up! Don't make me use the Alkie Bat, guys. C'mon... Let 'em go."
Of course. When he finally takes the bait, now this guy's not in the mood to throw down. Eddie glares at him, clenching his jaw and fists. This is bullshit. Scoffing, he reluctantly let's go. Jax isn't worth having a date with the Alkie Bat. That thing is nasty as hell. Whatever Dom's saying goes in one ear and out the other. Screw this. Turning away, he storms right out of the bar.
"Idiot."
"They're both idiots." Donna huffs, zipping up her jacket. She has to hurry and get out there before that punk does something really stupid, like trying to drive home.
'Why can't Jax just shut the hell up?'
Rushing out the front door, a sigh of relief comes out seeing the van still in the parking lot. The driver's side door is wide open. Good. He didn't leave. There's no reason to have a heart attack just yet. Marching across the asphalt, she takes a deep breath and thinks about how to handle this. This is a lot easier when it's other people. Not one of her boys.
"Eddie?" Walking up to the spot alongside where he's parked, the older woman sighs when her eyes land on him. Slumped in the driver's seat with the keys in the ignition and his arms crossed over his chest like a pouty brat.
"Leave me alone." Yep. He's sulking, but it's a lot better than driving.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"What's it look like?" Dragging himself up against the seat, he clicks his tongue and turns the keys, starting up the van. "I'm going to run Jax over."
"Not in my bar, you're not." She crosses her arms at that. The only place he's going is one of the backrooms to sleep this off. Even if she has to hop in there and lay his ass out to stop him from taking off.
"Well, instead of standing there yammering, go move your damn bar out of the way!" Eddie bites out angrily, waving her off.
Donna stares at him in disbelief, questioning her own ears. Holy shit… He's really wasted. Not the fun type of drunk, like usual. The pissy, impatient, dumb, becoming an entire handful kind of wasted. That's not like him.
"C'mon. Take the keys out and let's go inside. You're in no state to drive." She puts her hand out and motions for him to hand them over. There's no way in hell she's letting him drive drunk. He's not killing himself on her watch.
"No."
'Goddammit.'
"Eddie, please… I'm telling you right now, you won't make it home." This is partly her fault. After seeing him all bummed out, handing over a bottle of whiskey was really stupid. It was supposed to help. Not make things worse.
"I'm not going home." He pulls out a pack and a shaky hand sticks a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. It takes a few tries for the lighter to actually find the end, missing by just a hair each time.
"Then where do you plan on driving to?"
"I'm going to Chrissy's. Gonna ride up on my stallion." Eddie says, leaning forward to pat the dashboard. This kid… He's too much. And drank way too much. Usually he just chills with a few beers and has a good time, screwing around… laughing. It's been a while since she's seen him shitfaced.
"That's a really bad idea. No sober person wants to deal with a sloppy drunk. You're just going to embarrass yourself. Why don't you come in and sleep it off in the back room? Dom can take the guys home. Okay?" She says softly, hoping to coax him inside.
"No. Need to talk to her."
"That can wait until tomorrow. She's not going anywhere." Not good. Hopefully he'll get distracted and drop the idea entirely. Is that what all the moodiness earlier was over? That girl? Is she missing something or did hell freeze over? "Besides, doesn't she have a boyfriend?" What's the point? For a person who doesn't like dealing with crap, it's surprising he'd bother with something that messy. He's really throwing her through a loop.
'What the hell is he thinking getting involved with that kind of bullshit? It's just askin' for trouble.'
"Yeah, so? Big whoop." Taking a long drag, he tilts his head back and blows the smoke toward the ceiling. "She might be his girlfriend right now, but she's gonna be my wife."
"What the hell are you talkin' about? Do you even know what you're saying?" Yep. This should've been stopped about a few double shots ago. This brat... Has a chick come to see him play one time and is spitting nonsense after getting some alcohol in his system.
"Nope."
"C'mon. Let's go inside. If you sober up a bit, I might let you use the phone." If that will get his ass out of there and back into the bar, then whatever. She's not that much of an ass to let him drunk dial someone, especially if he's already talking crazy.
Eddie whips his head to the side and stares at her for a few moments. What a sweaty mess. Nothing some sleep, water, and aspirin won't fix. To her horror, he puts his foot down on the break and grabs the stick shift, not taking his eyes off of her.
"Eddie, no! Please! Just get out and come inside!" Donna starts panicking, trying to think of what to do. Taking some shots herself was a terrible idea. This is exactly why. The van lurches forward, then stops. Then does it again. And again. A smirk spreads across his face as he keeps putting his foot on the pedal and taking it off.
'You little shit!'
"What's wrong, Donna?" Does he think this is funny? Trying to scare her to death? From his expression, this asshat finds it hilarious.
"I'm really gonna beat the shit out of you."
"In that case…" He takes his foot off the break and lets the van slowly crawl, making a wide turn with the door still open.
"This isn't funny!" What a jerk. Eddie's laughing and driving around her as she sighs, rubbing her forehead. Maybe getting Dom out here with the Alkie Bat will change his mind. That usually sets everyone straight. Just seeing it is enough.
"Ughh!" The van abruptly stops and he jerks forward, grabbing onto the steering wheel tightly. His complexion turns unnaturally pale before hanging out of the open door, heaving.
'Dumbass. Made himself sick from driving in circles.'
"Okay, fine. You wanna play this game? If you don't get out of the van right now and place the keys nicely in my hand, I'm giving your band's slot away. Maybe I'll switch you and Jax back. I'm sure he'd love that." That gets his attention. He looks up at her with a hand covering his mouth, eyes wide, and face white as a ghost. It almost makes her feel bad. If false threats do the trick, then fine. In less than a minute, he puts it in park and climbs out.
"That's what I thought," Donna says as the keys are dropped in her hand. He's stumbling all over the place, so she puts an arm around his waist to help him along.
"...I feel like shit."
"You look like shit too, asshole." That makes him chuckle. She takes him the long way around the building in case he needs to throw up and so everyone else doesn't have to see him like this. Also to avoid a run-in with Jax again. After seeing how aggressively he was playing tonight, she should've known better than to give him liquor. That was a huge mistake on her part.
'That's not happening again.'