[ Seeing Tommy straighten up in his chair in the face of her attention makes her smile; it's funny how so little a thing makes such a difference, and suddenly she feels almost bad she was ignoring him in favor of the birthday boy for the last little while. She ought to be better than that.
She keeps herself half-turned towards Tommy, beringed fingers fiddling with a balled-up napkin. ]
You specialize in anything particular? [ Everyone has some kind of a speciality, right? She's a musician, sure, but she's a guitarist before anything else.
Turning her attention back to Joel when the shots are deposited, she looks at him in silence for a second before scrunching up her face in thought. ] Few months, maybe? Someone kept breaking into our shitty apartment and we had to change the locks for better ones. It took us a lot longer than I'd like to admit to. Mostly because someone couldn't follow written directions.
[ That someone was her, but she doesn't have to admit that. ]
[It's not really hard, after a handful of minutes in their company, to tell how close the men are-- and that Tommy's the sharper-edged of the two and yet still defers to his big brother. Tommy adds:] But we'll do anything that gets us paid.
[Joel chokes on a bark of something that might be a laugh and smacks Tommy in the chest across the table.] Watch it. [He pushes the drinks out to his brother and Eddie both; he remembers that video, changing out the door locks. Tommy gets a pointed look.] You can thank Commando for that one. Boy here kicked in the door cos he heard Sarah screamin' and figured it would take too long to get out his keys.
[ Eddie really doesn't know much about construction, but she knows a fair amount about fabrication thanks to Wayne's gig at the steel plant, and some things carry over well. Also, she's been much more interested in construction lately than she has for most of her life, so. She's picked up a thing or two, is what she's saying.
She widens her eyes at them both, her eyebrows disappearing up under her messy, curly bangs, and just stares for a moment before turning to Tommy and leaning in closer. ] My uncle woulda done the same thing for me, I am one hundred percent with you on this one. [ Straightening up a little, she leans back so she's equidistant again and turns to Joel. ] Why was she screaming?
Like anything that's got wood in it, [Joel agrees.
Tommy rolls his eyes and then brightens under Eddie's attention, leaning into her.]
Thank you. [Real deep and syrupy Texas. Joel kicks him under the table, holds up his shot glass for a toast, because you can't drink without a toast.] To Uncles. [Because he's not 100% an asshole. Just 95%.
Tommy grins.] She was hollerin' about some band she likes comin' to Austin. Crusted--
[Joel shakes his head.] No, no. Rusted.
Rusted. [Tommy agrees, looking into the depths of his shot before putting it up neatly and smacking the empty face-down on the table.] Rusted Coffin. Hell, I thought she was gettin' killed.
[ She's pretty sure there's a big difference between framing walls and doing the delicate carving work that comes with cabinets — they have to carve them as well as assemble them, right? — but what the hell does she know, right?
As much as she hates to admit it, that syrupy drawl works on her, even more so now that she's had enough liquor to feel a little bit tipsy, her walls lowered, her ego bolstered by the attention she's getting from one half of the table, at least. It takes her half a second to regroup for the toast, thoroughly distracted, but then she's lifting her glass along with them, toasting to Wayne and then tossing it back.
And then she's spluttering and coughing like she's never tasted tequila in her life. ]
[Like installing cabinets, listen, having your own furniture business isn't sustainable nowadays.
Joel swallows his own liquor and looks at Eddie like she's grown a second head. He has to check with Tommy-- what's happening?; Tommy shrugs-- before coughing into his fist.] No? Listen, Tommy's...
[Tommy shakes his head, sharp, and Joel stops. Turns his glass down on the table. Finishes:] Nope. She was screamin'bout music which I can't fault her for even though I don't share her taste and scared the shit outta her uncle. That's why we needed a new lock.
[ A tiny, mostly sober, part of her brain notices the conversation that isn't happening and files that away for later, the expressions exchanged and the firm cut-off of what was about to be said, but most of her brain isn't very sober right now, and it's also preoccupied.
Whatever they're not saying will have to be dealt with later. ]
Rusted Coffin? [ She looks between them, her eyes big and shining in her face. ] Do you mean Corroded Coffin?
[ Eddie keeps staring at them in complete silence for a few long heartbeats, the hand sporting her heavy skull rings lifting to cover her mouth as she fights against the smile that's starting to curl her lips, the laugh that's doing its level best to bubble up her throat. ]
I, um. Have some bad news? For you both? I...
[ Leaning her elbow on the table, she shifts in her seat and lifts her hips off her stool so she can reach into her pocket and pull out a guitar pick that was shoved in there; it's red and black marbled together, with two gothic Cs stamped on the front, the gold foil that had been printed in the letters worn away but still mostly visible.
She's lost the battle against her grin; it's wide enough to show off the dimples that she hates, wide enough that the glint of her tongue ring is impossible to ignore, wide enough that her eyes crinkle up and make her look weirdly soft even as she's emulating the Cheshire fucking Cat.
She tosses the pick down onto the table in front of them like they're playing cards and she's been dealt a winning hand, then leans back in her stool and crosses her arms smugly. ]
[They both lean in to look at the guitar pick. Tommy reaches out to pick it up, eyebrows creased toward each other, but Joel gets to the point more quickly. Her laugh could be the tequila-- and it's probably helping fuel that smile as well-- but there's something in the expression that is more than the bluster she's shown so far. There's pride.]
Ah hell. You gotta be kidding me.
[Tommy runs his thumb over the CC on the pick as he looks up at Joel's words and he opens his mouth but the lightbulb comes on first and his eyebrows both shoot upward toward his hairline.] Holeee shit. [He flips the pick between to fingers to point it at Eddie accusingly.] No way.
[ Cut her some slack, okay, Corroded Coffin is still an indie-enough band that it's rare she runs into a fan out in the wild (or a fan's family, at least, whatever). Sure, they get some fans that come to their shows, especially the smaller ones at little dive bars and local music spots in Chicago, but on a national tour? It's pretty damn rare.
Even if she strikes out completely and goes home alone, she's already feeling like she's won a prize tonight.
This is great. ]
Yes way. [ She bats her lashes at Tommy, still dimpling to hell and back, and then a thought occurs to her and she turns sharply to look at Joel. ] We're only in town for two shows. Did you not get her a ticket to see us play? What the hell, man.
[ She leans even closer to Tommy, still keeping her eyes on Joel like she's asking for a secret to be shared even though she doesn't make any attempt to lower her voice at all. ] How old is Sarah, again?
[If Tommy looks a little blinded by her attention, well, could be the glare off Eddie's piercings... but more likely it's the dimples. Joel's even a little caught-off when her attention is suddenly on him and he has to blink as he sits up straighter.]
Fourteen, [Joel answers.] And that's way too young to go a metal show.
[ She straightens up a little as well so she won't tumble out of her chair since Tommy didn't answer her question but Sarah's father did, though she immediately scoffs and waves a dismissive hand at him. ]
I was already sneaking into shows at fourteen, she'd be fine. [ Granted, Eddie at fourteen didn't have a father in her life, was still sorting out what living with Wayne was going to be like, was struggling to find her footing in the podunk backwater that was Hawkins in the 90s.
It's definitely not any better now, but at least now when she goes back to visit she knows she doesn't have to stay there. ]
Especially because she would have her protectors with her, wouldn't she? [ she continues, spreading out her hands to indicate Joel and Tommy both, because she may have only known these two for half an hour, but she feels like she can safely make some assumptions about them insisting on chaperoning the kid who is clearly the apple of their eyes when she wants to go to any concert, let alone something like what Corroded Coffin plays. ]
[Maybe that's why you have all those holes in your face now, Joel thinks but isn't drunk enough to say out loud. A damn musician-- who has, credibly, "made it". Further than he would have ever gotten, that's for sure. Touring, opening act, sorta far.
Ain't like he's jealous.
Ain't like he doesn't know exactly who she is now, knows it's her throaty croon he hears blasting from behind Sarah's door. Which makes the other two sitting over yonder and paying too much attention to them the rest of the band, he guesses. Corroded Coffin.
Meanwhile Tommy's leaning into Eddie like he's halfway to love and he lights up at her question. Joel shakes his head.] Not a chance in hell, [he laughs.] For so many reasons.
C'mon Joel, [Tommy says, waving down the waitress again.] She's got a good head on her shoulders; imagine how happy she'd be.
Yeah, c'mon Joel, [ she cajoles, shifting in her seat and leaning back so she and Tommy present a united front of big brown eyes and hopeful smiles. Eddie's never had an older brother to try and manipulate, but it can't be that hard, right? ] She'll have so much fun.
[ She looks over towards where Gareth and Keith are, in fact, watching them with varying degrees of incredulity, and gives them both a bright grin before turning back to her current table and its occupants. ]
We get a plus-one every show for friends and family. There's four of us in the band and not one of us have friends or family in Austin. [ She raises her eyebrows at him like she's prompting him, an expectant smile on her face. Trying to sweeten the pot, she continues: ] They're VIP passes. She wouldn't be anywhere near the pit unless she'd want to be. [ Unless Papa Bear over here allows it, which she's positive he won't. Too bad. The mosh pit is a fun place to be. A fun place to release some of the aggression that builds up in every adolescent body. ] Think of it as me repaying you for helping us thwart the theft of our extremely expensive instruments.
[She and Tommy make a damn pair like that, the two of them. The sight catches oddly in Joel's chest but he ain't jealous of a pair of idiots, either. She really does need to put that grin away though or someone is gonna get hurt.] Speaking of. [Without agreeing yet-- VIP sounds like it might be alright and christ, Sarah definitely would lose her mind there's no doubt about that-- Joel shakes his head.]
How does someone's apartment get broken into multiple times?
[Drunk enough to ask that. And here come more drinks.]
[ For someone who claims he's not jealous, he's sure thinking about being jealous a lot.
Eddie keeps up her wide-eyed routine, rolled up onto one hip on her chair and her elbow braced on the table so she and Tommy are nearly shoulder to shoulder. It makes it easy to keep half an eye on her original table, on the way Gareth isn't even trying to pretend he's not watching them, a look on his face like he's sorting out a puzzle.
As long as he holds his horses for a little bit longer, she doesn't care what he gets up to.
She huffs dismissively. ] When all you can afford to rent is a shitbox above a liquor store, you have to get used to a certain amount of B&E.
[Joel doesn't think anyone should get used to a 'certain amount of B&E' but maybe that's just his nice quiet backwater talking. Meanwhile Tommy doesn't seem to mind the attention at all and slides Eddie's new shot over to her before bothering with another. Joel's left to reach for his own.]
Sounds like shit, [Tommy says.] Music pays that little?
She murmurs a quiet thanks to Tommy for passing her a shot, but she doesn't lift it to her mouth immediately, running the tip of her finger around the rim absently as she gives him a wry grin. ]
Music pays fuck-all, [ she agrees, then shrugs. ] It's better, now, but yeah. Metal's not really a big scene, and with me as the frontwoman...
[ They might be more popular if Eddie wore short skirts and big platform boots and strutted around the stage wailing about love and loss, but that's just not who she is. She wears big boots, yeah, but they're usually tucked into tight jeans, and she does strut around the stage occasionally, but usually she stays more or less put so she can focus on playing her guitar. The love and loss stuff is real enough, though. She's trying not to think about Joel's kid listening to the songs she's written about fucking, though. That's awkward. ]
Thing are looking up, though. I mean, it's not every day I get to meet fans in the wild. [ She winks at Tommy, well aware that neither of them are fans in the traditional sense, then turns her bright grin back on Joel. ] So what's it gonna be? You gonna try and tell me you're busy tomorrow night?
Oh I am as busy as the day is long, [Joel draws, his look so very dry at her attempts to talk him into a concert that he has no interest in seeing. Metal isn't his scene and he left behind pining after girls with guitars a long time ago.]
Liar. [Tommy takes his own drink, coughs once and shakes his head.] Joel doesn't have a life, just a daughter and work. And I know neither of those things would be a problem tomorrow night.
[He gives a tight-lipped look at Joel, like, man, come on. Joel sighs.] I'm gonna listen to that record of yours tomorrow and if it isn't appropriate, we're out. [A dad's excuse but Joel knows that he's already given the inch that will lead to the mile.
[ Eddie may not have a big brother of her own, but she knows exactly how it feels to have someone you love sell you out and it makes her laugh quietly as Joel scowls at Tommy for telling the truth about his social life.
She folds her lips together and bites down to stifle a much louder laugh when Joel lays down the law, his response so painfully dad-like she she can't help but be endeared.
And also a little worried. Only a handful of songs she writes actually talk about sex, but she's never been a very subtle person. She's pretty sure nothing on the setlist for tomorrow has any f-bombs, though. Even the one song about getting off is pretty vague about the details. It'll be fine.
She turns her head to look at Tommy, knowing she looks triumphant. Because she is. ]
You'll come see me tomorrow night, won't you, Tommy? Even if Dad over here thinks we're not appropriate.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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She keeps herself half-turned towards Tommy, beringed fingers fiddling with a balled-up napkin. ]
You specialize in anything particular? [ Everyone has some kind of a speciality, right? She's a musician, sure, but she's a guitarist before anything else.
Turning her attention back to Joel when the shots are deposited, she looks at him in silence for a second before scrunching up her face in thought. ] Few months, maybe? Someone kept breaking into our shitty apartment and we had to change the locks for better ones. It took us a lot longer than I'd like to admit to. Mostly because someone couldn't follow written directions.
[ That someone was her, but she doesn't have to admit that. ]
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[It's not really hard, after a handful of minutes in their company, to tell how close the men are-- and that Tommy's the sharper-edged of the two and yet still defers to his big brother. Tommy adds:] But we'll do anything that gets us paid.
[Joel chokes on a bark of something that might be a laugh and smacks Tommy in the chest across the table.] Watch it. [He pushes the drinks out to his brother and Eddie both; he remembers that video, changing out the door locks. Tommy gets a pointed look.] You can thank Commando for that one. Boy here kicked in the door cos he heard Sarah screamin' and figured it would take too long to get out his keys.
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[ Eddie really doesn't know much about construction, but she knows a fair amount about fabrication thanks to Wayne's gig at the steel plant, and some things carry over well. Also, she's been much more interested in construction lately than she has for most of her life, so. She's picked up a thing or two, is what she's saying.
She widens her eyes at them both, her eyebrows disappearing up under her messy, curly bangs, and just stares for a moment before turning to Tommy and leaning in closer. ] My uncle woulda done the same thing for me, I am one hundred percent with you on this one. [ Straightening up a little, she leans back so she's equidistant again and turns to Joel. ] Why was she screaming?
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Tommy rolls his eyes and then brightens under Eddie's attention, leaning into her.]
Thank you. [Real deep and syrupy Texas. Joel kicks him under the table, holds up his shot glass for a toast, because you can't drink without a toast.] To Uncles. [Because he's not 100% an asshole. Just 95%.
Tommy grins.] She was hollerin' about some band she likes comin' to Austin. Crusted--
[Joel shakes his head.] No, no. Rusted.
Rusted. [Tommy agrees, looking into the depths of his shot before putting it up neatly and smacking the empty face-down on the table.] Rusted Coffin. Hell, I thought she was gettin' killed.
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As much as she hates to admit it, that syrupy drawl works on her, even more so now that she's had enough liquor to feel a little bit tipsy, her walls lowered, her ego bolstered by the attention she's getting from one half of the table, at least. It takes her half a second to regroup for the toast, thoroughly distracted, but then she's lifting her glass along with them, toasting to Wayne and then tossing it back.
And then she's spluttering and coughing like she's never tasted tequila in her life. ]
Are you fucking kidding me?
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Joel swallows his own liquor and looks at Eddie like she's grown a second head. He has to check with Tommy-- what's happening?; Tommy shrugs-- before coughing into his fist.] No? Listen, Tommy's...
[Tommy shakes his head, sharp, and Joel stops. Turns his glass down on the table. Finishes:] Nope. She was screamin'bout music which I can't fault her for even though I don't share her taste and scared the shit outta her uncle. That's why we needed a new lock.
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Whatever they're not saying will have to be dealt with later. ]
Rusted Coffin? [ She looks between them, her eyes big and shining in her face. ] Do you mean Corroded Coffin?
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Yeah, yeah. That's it. What the hell kinda name is that for a band?
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I, um. Have some bad news? For you both? I...
[ Leaning her elbow on the table, she shifts in her seat and lifts her hips off her stool so she can reach into her pocket and pull out a guitar pick that was shoved in there; it's red and black marbled together, with two gothic Cs stamped on the front, the gold foil that had been printed in the letters worn away but still mostly visible.
She's lost the battle against her grin; it's wide enough to show off the dimples that she hates, wide enough that the glint of her tongue ring is impossible to ignore, wide enough that her eyes crinkle up and make her look weirdly soft even as she's emulating the Cheshire fucking Cat.
She tosses the pick down onto the table in front of them like they're playing cards and she's been dealt a winning hand, then leans back in her stool and crosses her arms smugly. ]
Sarah has impeccable taste.
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Ah hell. You gotta be kidding me.
[Tommy runs his thumb over the CC on the pick as he looks up at Joel's words and he opens his mouth but the lightbulb comes on first and his eyebrows both shoot upward toward his hairline.] Holeee shit. [He flips the pick between to fingers to point it at Eddie accusingly.] No way.
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Even if she strikes out completely and goes home alone, she's already feeling like she's won a prize tonight.
This is great. ]
Yes way. [ She bats her lashes at Tommy, still dimpling to hell and back, and then a thought occurs to her and she turns sharply to look at Joel. ] We're only in town for two shows. Did you not get her a ticket to see us play? What the hell, man.
[ She leans even closer to Tommy, still keeping her eyes on Joel like she's asking for a secret to be shared even though she doesn't make any attempt to lower her voice at all. ] How old is Sarah, again?
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Fourteen, [Joel answers.] And that's way too young to go a metal show.
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I was already sneaking into shows at fourteen, she'd be fine. [ Granted, Eddie at fourteen didn't have a father in her life, was still sorting out what living with Wayne was going to be like, was struggling to find her footing in the podunk backwater that was Hawkins in the 90s.
It's definitely not any better now, but at least now when she goes back to visit she knows she doesn't have to stay there. ]
Especially because she would have her protectors with her, wouldn't she? [ she continues, spreading out her hands to indicate Joel and Tommy both, because she may have only known these two for half an hour, but she feels like she can safely make some assumptions about them insisting on chaperoning the kid who is clearly the apple of their eyes when she wants to go to any concert, let alone something like what Corroded Coffin plays. ]
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Ain't like he's jealous.
Ain't like he doesn't know exactly who she is now, knows it's her throaty croon he hears blasting from behind Sarah's door. Which makes the other two sitting over yonder and paying too much attention to them the rest of the band, he guesses. Corroded Coffin.
Meanwhile Tommy's leaning into Eddie like he's halfway to love and he lights up at her question. Joel shakes his head.] Not a chance in hell, [he laughs.] For so many reasons.
C'mon Joel, [Tommy says, waving down the waitress again.] She's got a good head on her shoulders; imagine how happy she'd be.
[Joel just repeats:] For so many reasons, Tommy.
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[ She looks over towards where Gareth and Keith are, in fact, watching them with varying degrees of incredulity, and gives them both a bright grin before turning back to her current table and its occupants. ]
We get a plus-one every show for friends and family. There's four of us in the band and not one of us have friends or family in Austin. [ She raises her eyebrows at him like she's prompting him, an expectant smile on her face. Trying to sweeten the pot, she continues: ] They're VIP passes. She wouldn't be anywhere near the pit unless she'd want to be. [ Unless Papa Bear over here allows it, which she's positive he won't. Too bad. The mosh pit is a fun place to be. A fun place to release some of the aggression that builds up in every adolescent body. ] Think of it as me repaying you for helping us thwart the theft of our extremely expensive instruments.
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How does someone's apartment get broken into multiple times?
[Drunk enough to ask that. And here come more drinks.]
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Eddie keeps up her wide-eyed routine, rolled up onto one hip on her chair and her elbow braced on the table so she and Tommy are nearly shoulder to shoulder. It makes it easy to keep half an eye on her original table, on the way Gareth isn't even trying to pretend he's not watching them, a look on his face like he's sorting out a puzzle.
As long as he holds his horses for a little bit longer, she doesn't care what he gets up to.
She huffs dismissively. ] When all you can afford to rent is a shitbox above a liquor store, you have to get used to a certain amount of B&E.
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Sounds like shit, [Tommy says.] Music pays that little?
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She murmurs a quiet thanks to Tommy for passing her a shot, but she doesn't lift it to her mouth immediately, running the tip of her finger around the rim absently as she gives him a wry grin. ]
Music pays fuck-all, [ she agrees, then shrugs. ] It's better, now, but yeah. Metal's not really a big scene, and with me as the frontwoman...
[ They might be more popular if Eddie wore short skirts and big platform boots and strutted around the stage wailing about love and loss, but that's just not who she is. She wears big boots, yeah, but they're usually tucked into tight jeans, and she does strut around the stage occasionally, but usually she stays more or less put so she can focus on playing her guitar. The love and loss stuff is real enough, though. She's trying not to think about Joel's kid listening to the songs she's written about fucking, though. That's awkward. ]
Thing are looking up, though. I mean, it's not every day I get to meet fans in the wild. [ She winks at Tommy, well aware that neither of them are fans in the traditional sense, then turns her bright grin back on Joel. ] So what's it gonna be? You gonna try and tell me you're busy tomorrow night?
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Liar. [Tommy takes his own drink, coughs once and shakes his head.] Joel doesn't have a life, just a daughter and work. And I know neither of those things would be a problem tomorrow night.
[He gives a tight-lipped look at Joel, like, man, come on. Joel sighs.] I'm gonna listen to that record of yours tomorrow and if it isn't appropriate, we're out. [A dad's excuse but Joel knows that he's already given the inch that will lead to the mile.
Damnit.]
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She folds her lips together and bites down to stifle a much louder laugh when Joel lays down the law, his response so painfully dad-like she she can't help but be endeared.
And also a little worried. Only a handful of songs she writes actually talk about sex, but she's never been a very subtle person. She's pretty sure nothing on the setlist for tomorrow has any f-bombs, though. Even the one song about getting off is pretty vague about the details. It'll be fine.
She turns her head to look at Tommy, knowing she looks triumphant. Because she is. ]
You'll come see me tomorrow night, won't you, Tommy? Even if Dad over here thinks we're not appropriate.