"Hey! I wanted a Rum & Coke with Malibu; not whatever 10-cent slog you put in this!"
"Sorry, sorry," Chrissy sighed, swiping the drink from his hand, "Let me just remake that for you quick."
"Yeah, you'd better."
Chrissy turned, pausing momentarily before shoving the glass out of her way before grasping a new container and standing on her tiptoes to reach the Malibu. Behind her, someone wolf-whistled.
"Reach higher, baby!"
Chrissy ground her teeth and pushed herself up to grasp the bottle and used the mirror on the bar in front of her to glance behind.
Pig.
"Darling, I've been waiting forever! Don't you want my money?" Another patron called behind her, flapping his bills around obnoxiously. And he'd tip like shit, that was for sure.
"I'll be right with you, sir!" Chrissy said, forcing her best customer-service smile.
She slid the Rum & Coke to the man who let out a frustrated 'finally' before throwing a few cents on the table and walking away. Chrissy quickly swiped it, dropping it into her apron before turning to the man who was acting like he'd been wandering the desert a thousand days before finding the show bar.
"Macallan Scotch; neat," The man said, grinning lecherously at Chrissy, "Thanks, doll."
Chrissy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Another boy trying to flaunt his wealth in front of her, as though she'd turn into a pile of goo and throw herself into her pants. People with money ordered normal drinks, not drinks that cost more than her rent!
She also wondered (not wondered, knew) that men picked top-shelf items more frequently when she was wearing her skirt or shorts, probably thinking they'd get a second show because she'd have to reach up high to get it.
Well, they weren't wrong. Nothing much Chrissy could do about it.
She poured his drink, forcing a fake smile his way, but before she could pull back to take the drink order of the next patron, he grasped her wrist and pulled her forward. Chrissy instinctively looked past the man toward the smokey area where Eddie was working the soundboard, wishing he'd look up, and give her a smile and a moment of strength to deal with these assholes.
The desk was far enough away that Eddie had practically zero idea what went on at the bar unless Chrissy told him. And she'd only made that mistake once, of complaining about the grossness of some of these dudes on the first night, and it had him all riled up like he was going to go and punch all their teeth out or something.
"It's busy tonight," The man said, stating the absolute obvious. Saturday nights were always hellish, what with people pouring into the city to enjoy the shows and escape from reality. Caesar's Palace stage was no exception, "For your hard work," He said, slipping something down her shirt.
Was it sad this was a normal enough occurrence that Chrissy could tell the two things he slipped down here? Firstly, money. No complaints there.
Second, a hotel room key, probably with his name or number scrawled on it.
No way in hell, dude.
But Chrissy didn't say that. Instead, she gave a seductive giggle and an embarrassed laugh, like this never happened or bartenders were never hit on or invited back to hotel rooms.
"Oh, I'd love to, but well…my boss might get mad," Chrissy said, jerking a finger at Marv who stood imposingly by the back doors, "Skipping out on my shift on such a busy night."
"Shame. If you get off, you know where to find me."
"Yep!" Chrissy chirped, desperate to get away. She grabbed a few empty sticky glasses from the bartop, but as she turned, the hotel key jerk leaned over the bar and slapped her ass. Chrissy squeaked, surprised, and dropped the glasses. They shattered, the sharp pieces flying out in every direction, and Chrissy felt her knees drop as she held back tears that burned in the back of her throat and started to pick up the pieces.
"Yo! Hands on your side!" Nomi stormed over, using the voice that Marv said scared away perfectly good customers, but in this moment, Chrissy couldn't be more grateful. Nomi, her mentor here, took no shit and gave it back to men who deserved it, and sometimes women too.
"Wasn't my fault! She has butterfingers!"
"Save it, creep. I saw," Nomi said, "Shoo. Now."
Chrissy heard the man swear at her, calling her a handful of colorful words as he stalked off. Nomi knelt down next to her, seeing her face.
"Oh, girl, c'mon, chin up," She said, "Don't cry over spilled vodka, you know? It's only the second time you've dropped glasses and for a damn good reason."
"I know, I know, I just…" Chrissy bit her tongue, and shuddered. Nomi patted her shoulder comfortingly.
"Hey, you decide how much you wanna take, remember?" Nomi said, helping her pick up the pieces. As a man leered over, throwing his order, she turned, "We're a bit busy, sir! Hold your fucking horses."
Chrissy had realized early on that the more aloof or girly she was, the more she wore shirts with v-necks or skirts that brushed the bottom of her thighs, the more she batted her eyes and took her wedding ring off, the better tips she got.
And that came with some unwarranted touching sometimes too.
But Chrissy needed this money. Nomi had told her on day one that none of that was strictly needed. Their job was to sell booze, nothing more (though Marv may disagree). She made it abundantly clear that she didn't care if she got shittier tips for snapping back at fools who tried something with her, the entire idea of letting any man talk to her like that - or god forbid, lay hands on her- was a non-starter.
"I know, fudge, sorry," Chrissy said. Nomi let out a soft laugh at her very non-explicit language.
"Take a moment. Go take a smoke or a breather in the bathroom."
"No, no, I'm good," Chrissy said, getting all the big pieces she could and grabbing the broom to pile up the smaller ones, "Really. It just took me off guard."
"Okay, well if you need a break, I'm here."
"Who would give you your break then?" Chrissy sighed. Since Nomi needed to be on shift with her since she was still learning the ropes, it didn't seem like Nomi ever got a breather.
"I live, eat, and breathe this. I wouldn't know what to do with my break even if got gone," Nomi barked, "And besides? Miss out on a chance to make grown men cry? No way."
Chrissy let herself giggle, glad that Nomi, though she seemed tough on the surface, was a normal person who seemed willing to train her and suffer through all of Chrissy's mistakes. Apparently Marv had made the mistake of only hiring for looks the last time, which had gone terribly, so Nomi was thanking her lucky stars that Chrissy had half a brain. Even if Marv claimed he only cared that she was pretty, she didn't think he got to wherever he was today by not being able to pick up on who was incompetent and who wasn't immediately.
As Chrissy stood, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrors. She hadn't really looked yet. She mostly used it to scope out the people arriving at the bar.
Her face was red with the embarrassment she'd just suffered, and her lips were chapped from the biting as she struggled to remember what went in a Sidecar or a Cosmo. Her hair, pulled into a ponytail, was coming loose and frizzy from the humidity in here. Her makeup was smudged at the edges, and not artfully so, like Nomi's. Just exhausted smear.
She looked, no lie, pretty horrible.
If anyone from Hawkins ever did stumble into here, there was no way they'd recognize her because it wasn't just her looks that had changed, but her entire personality.
Not to sound privileged, but a month into working a full-time adult job like an adult really, really sucked.
At least it did for her.
It wasn't that Chrissy was unfamiliar with the idea of working. She'd worked at her Daddy's office last summer as an intern, mostly pushing papers around or going on coffee runs. Those days had been long and boring, but not terrible.
These days were long, boring but most of all…grueling. Chrissy ha never felt as bone tired as she did when she clocked out, most work days only managing to eat a few bites before passing out.
She was always good at most things, at least halfway decent. And in the general sense, she did not think she was failing at this job. But in the specific sense, there was so much she didn't know, And, this was so much harder and stressful than she ever thought it would be.
Shocker for the ages…Chrissy Cunningham did not do well working 60-hour weeks in the hot sun, catering to boys who ditched their wives at the magic show to hit on a hardly legal bubbly blonde.
The funny thing about all this was Eddie.
Eddie had hit his stride from day one.
While work was awful for Chrissy most days, it was ever exciting to Eddie. He'd picked up his skillset so quickly that Chrissy was genuinely shocked that he'd lied through his teeth about his skills.
Being not only in control of the lights and sound but of the overall experience of the patrons, seemed to give him a sense of duty she'd never seen in him before. He took his job seriously, and from what she could tell…he really loved it.
And of course, he did! It came so easy to him! Marv was floored by this hire, often talking about how lucky he was to have found Scott.
He never said that about Wanda.
In the few times Chrissy had gotten to observe Eddie on her breaks, while the show was still going, he'd seemed so relaxed, so in his element. He was often a bit goofy, but it's like he switched into a functioning adult once he walked into the doors of his job. And more than that, he looked flawless doing it. Though he only had a few nice things in rotation, his jackets were never crumpled, his hair never too poofy, and his shirts never had an unidentifiable stain from something he'd erroneously leaned into.
In all, he was solid and committed, his little headset on as he talked and gave cues softly through his microphone, his fingers all over the sliding keys like he was conducting a symphony.
God…he was really born for this.
Chrissy was glad. Even if she was suffering, at least he'd lucked out on finding a job that fit him just right. Eddie deserved a handful of good things, every once or twice. Chrissy just had to believe that the next thing- whatever it was- would be in her favor.
That is, if she believed the universe to be just…which she's not entirely sure of now. But she likes to pretend she is, clinging to some remaining part of her, even if she knows herself that cheerleading Chrissy is long gone.
And she's doing mostly fine without her past self, thank you very much.
In fact, she's been encouraged to drop that life like a hot potato, and she has every intention of it.
On her first day, Nomi had asked her, "So, what's your story? A pretty young thing ending up here? That's gotta be good."
Chrissy had tensed up, eyes wild, and almost had a panic attack. The crazy thing was that she had a cover story. She and Eddie had drilled it until it was second nature…until it wasn't, apparently, because she couldn't summon the panic that shot down her spine to be asked.
"Woah, girl, it's fine!" Nomi's eyes were as big as saucers, "Just social politeness. You don't have to answer."
"Thanks," Chrissy had said, voice rough, as Nomi slid a mixed drink across the bar to her. Her fingers flexed as she was about to say she wasn't old enough, but of course, in this life, she was. She sipped it politely, surprised the usual sting of alcohol didn't burn down her throat.
"Really, don't sweat it." Nomi gave a soft, almost sad smile, "Anyone here is running from something. We all got our skeletons. It was stupid of me to ask…I should know better."
Chrissy clenched the glass tight at the thought of skeletons. She hadn't thought of Jason in a long time, but all at once, she was hit with a vision of his body decaying under a gravestone, along with two other bodies meant to be her and Eddie. The idea made her nauseous and she took a bigger gulp of her drink, trying to wave away those ideas.
She was curious about Nomi's deep fears, but it would be impolite to ask, especially when she wasn't coughing up her own.
She didn't know. No one was blabbing about what brought them here, what scared them away from their original lives. Nomi had never asked again and Chrissy was okay with that.
She saw Thomas, one of Marv's goons, coming up behind the bar. She fished the hotel key from where that creep had put it, checking to see that it had the room number hastily scrawled in pen on the backside before dropping it in a cardboard box.
"How's it today?" Thomas asked as she poured him a Sprite, a little sugar pick-me-up for him as the nights wore on.
"Oh, no better or worse than usual," Chrissy said. She fished out the creep's hotel key from the pile and held it between her fingers, "I'd start here," She said with a hint of bitterness.
Thomas finished his drink and took the room keys, slyly fisting them into his pockets before retreating.
This place was not entirely legal. Chrissy knew that even Eddie could see that. Most of the time, whatever business Marv was in, Chrissy didn't really give a damn about. Sure, magic shows were popular, but not popular enough to fund Marv's expensive tastes.
Whether it was money laundering or mob business, Chrissy was mostly removed.
Mostly.
Except for the room key stuff.
Small fish, all things considered. Every night, Thomas would take any room keys handed to the bartending girls, right after the intermission ended. Then, as far as Chrissy knew, someone n the hotel would slip into the rooms, knowing these men would be occupied at least another hour, and raid their expensive watches or silk ties or steal a few hundred bucks from their safes. Not enough to cause alarm, but enough to be worth dealing in.
Chrissy didn't even care she was an accomplice in this. Most of those men deserved it. Though she played the innocent 'girl-next-door' part, in reality, she didn't go out of her way at all to flirt with these men. And most were wearing wedding rings, flirting with a girl half their age. She really didn't encourage anything and still got slipped hotel cards more frequently than she was slipped tips. It was disgusting.
And, she got a fairly decent cut of it, for her troubles and smiles, Marv had told her.
Three hours later, Nomi and Chrissy scrubbed the bar clean, the lights of the stage on, and the entire atrium emptied out.
"Ew; Mr. Tweed totally bared a bit here," Nomi said, scrunching up her nose as she scrubbed a bit of liquid with chunks. A few weeks ago, Chrissy would have gagged. Now, it just seemed like an average day. Better than usual, in fact, since there was always one man on vacation who didn't know how to hold his liquor and made it everyone else's problem.
"You almost done, babe?" Eddie asked, strolling up to the bar. They'd decided to really lean into their marriage here. Marv already knew they were hitched. It seemed silly to hide it and better to get used to it. So they used pet names, held hands, and occasionally kissed each other's cheeks. Nothing more than that. They didn't want to be accused of PDA at work and get reprimanded. Better for them, of course.
"Just need to cash out," Chrissy replied, yawning, "I'm exhausted."
"Me too. Pick up food on the way?" Eddie asked warmly, sending her a soft smile. Chrissy nodded, wringing her rag out and going to the cash box. Eddie watched her count out her tips before stuffing the rest in a safe under the bar, grinning.
"Damn, girl. We'll have a new bedroom set before we know it!" He teased, "Or maybe a car. I'd like a car."
"You're not happy with ours?" Chrissy asked, surprised. She waved goodbye to Nomi as the pair fell into the early morning of a sleepy Las Vegas. The city never seemed to sleep, but it certainly got a bit drowsy between 3 am and 7 am. That was Eddie and Chrissy's time. The time they felt like they owned this town.
"We could do better," Eddie shrugged, "Ours is halfway falling apart. We could go on trips."
"Where?" Chrissy snorted, "We don't get days off." Sure, they made good money, but it came with certain sacrifices.
"I'm just saying…one day."
They grabbed some take-out at a favorite late-night burger place. The cashier recognized them, asking how the show was tonight. They'd started getting into little rhythms, Chrissy realized. Ruts in the sand. Pathways being made, making them feel so normal. Get a bite to eat from here on really stressful nights, grab some groceries at the corner store on Thursdays, laundry on Sunday mornings…it was feeling like their lives made sense. Chrissy had always liked having a schedule, and it seemed Eddie enjoyed it too.
"Good as it can be, Paul," Eddie replied, giving him an extra tip, "Here?"
"Same old, Scott. Same old. I added a few extra packets of ketchup for your lady, by the way," He said, waving to Chrissy.
"Thanks, man, you're a live saver. Wanda without ketchup is a massacre waiting to happen," He teased.
The air was warm, as always, on their walk home. Dawn breaking over the horizon never ceased to amaze Chrissy. They saw a lot of dawns now, but this always took her breath away. Maybe it was because she was so much more appreciative of every day she survived. Maybe it was because the sunrises here just felt different than Hawkins. Either way, it was her favorite part of her workday.
They sat on their couch, eating and swapping stories about their shift. At one point, Chrissy was in the middle of talking when Eddie reached out, swiping his thumb over her lip. She paused, shocked, and even Eddie seemed surprised at his actions.
"You, uh, had some ketchup," He said, motioning to the area on the outside of her mouth, "It's gone now." He added awkwardly. Chrissy swallowed, flexing her fingers.
"Thanks."
"Uhm, to bed?" Eddie asked, jerking his thumb back.
"Wait, one second," Chrissy said, going over to their little lockbox and upturning her tips onto the table, "Help me count."
Together, on their little antique table, from the 50s at the earliest, they counted out their change. It was quite a good sizable sum. 70% always went into the 'needs', such as rent or food. 20% went into their house fund, though neither of them brought up the fact that they were close enough to buy another mattress. 5% went into an emergency fund, and the last 5% went into Chrissy's wallet for her own use. So far, she'd been expanding her wardrobe, which took quite the dent out of her daily givings. She was sure Eddie's egg nest was much larger since he didn't seem to do much with it. Then again, her gaze flickered to their albums and CDs piled high in a corner, and perhaps not.
"Wow, girl, we're really pulling it in now!" Eddie whistled, entirely seriously.
"It's good to have some saved up," Chrissy shrugged, "In case-,"
"In case we murder someone else, need to change our names, and go on the run again?" Eddie asked dryly, "We're gunna run out of America if we do that again, Cunningham."
"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that. Let's not try to trip and stab anyone, shall we?" Chrissy asked, closing the lockbox with a key around her neck.
"I'll try my darndest, sweetheart," Eddie chuckled, "But sometimes I just can't help myself."
Chrissy wasn't sure if they were going to hell or not for joking so casually about this, but it helped her get through the fact that Jason was dead and would stay dead. And somehow, they were out in Las Vegas, living differently and almost better because of it.
"You look like your brain is going to burst into goo," Eddie said softly, "Whatever you're thinking, it's not worth losing this over," He said, tapping her noggin.
"Just stupid shit," Chrissy whispered, forcing a smile, "Bed?"
Her thoughts of Jason were eclipsed by an equally puzzling thought; that crawling into bed with Eddie Munson was, impossibly, starting to feel a lot like home.