mixtape (reddie)

Chapter 40

"Oh, hey," Bill grins. "You ready?"

Richie nods, shifting on his feet a little weakly. He's scared of throwing himself right back into Derry, but he's gotta do it eventually, right? No point in delaying the inevitable. Besides, he doesn't want to be alone. Not now... not in this house.

The two boys clamber down the stairs, Bill more clumsy than Richie's precise foot steps. As soon as they're in the foyer, Bill grabs for the keys hanging off the hook and yells out.

"Mom! Dad! Richie and I are going to the parlor!"

Richie's eyes widen, unable to believe that Bill raised his voice like that. His heartbeat quickens, rapidly raising his blood pressure as he starts to imagine the punishments they'll receive for speaking out of turn like that.

Instead, however, Zack shouts back from his recliner "Be back by curfew, you know the police are cracking down on it."

Richie physically exhales, his trembles coming to a stop as Bill begins to unlock the front door. As the two step out, Richie can hear Sharon say "You boys have fun!"

"You drive?" Richie asks, approaching the family car alongside Bill.

"No, I'm just carrying these keys for fun," Bill scoffs, a smile on his face. "I'm eighteen, dork. Of course I can drive."

"Oh," Richie shakes his head, feeling stupid. He punches the side of his leg three times, takes a deep breath, and tries again. "Sorry."

"For what?" Bill asks, and then gets into the car.

Richie follows, carefully buckling into the passenger seat of the car they just spent hours in the back of. The drive back to Maine was not pretty, but it was nice to leave Philadelphia behind.

"There's some tapes in the glovebox if you wanna find somethin'," Bill explains, turned around so he can safely back out of the driveway. "Mom hates it, but dad loves jamming out to Metallica. He's got good taste for an old man, haha."

Richie slowly, cautiously opens the glovebox. He hasn't had much access to music at all over the past few years, the only time he got  to listen to the radio is when he was out working on the yard outside the orphanage. The neighbors next door would sit on their porch with a boom box and ask the boys what station they would want to listen to. Most of the time, his friends would all want to listen to the baseball game. Philadelphia is obsessed with sports. But... on a few occasions, they would single out the quiet one, and they'd ask Richie what he wanted to listen to. To which he would respond, with a wavering voice, "the rock station." This is how he discovered Nirvana. Three times a week during summer months, Richie would go out to the garden and pull weeds until his hands were sore and fingernails were dirty. He didn't mind, he got to discover a new reason to love Kurt Cobain each time he heard the man's distinguishable voice.

There's no Nirvana tapes, but Richie finds a Bon Jovi tape that has good songs on it, so he slides it into the dashboard and cautiously watches to see if Bill approves or not. (He does.)

The parlor feels almost... surreal. They tore down the stained glass wall that was separating the kitchen from the dining area, instead putting in a swinging doorway for the waitresses to walk to and fro. The jukebox remains, but it's old and barely functional anymore. As they walk in, Richie watches someone smack the top of it in order to get their song to start playing. He knows the song, he recognizes it as Keep On Loving You by REO Speedwagon. Teenagers litter the bar stools, couples sharing milkshakes and rowdy boys throwing fries at the waitresses walking by. The parlor has become the hangout spot it seems, and Richie certainly wasn't expecting to see so many people his age in one area.