Royal Pain || Stranger Things

two || tan lines

The second floor of the new Rivers home was filled with the blaring of Rock the Casbah by The Clash, feet bouncing around the floor so intently the chandelier in the living room threatened to start swinging.

One of Tatum's top priorities of arranging her furniture and unpacking was getting her record player set up.

Tatum had tied her hair up to keep it out of the way as well as save her neck from overheating, the teen wiggling around like an elegant fish as she did her best to put clothes on hangers that desperately needed to be ironed after spending days in boxes. "The Shareef don't like it," she shouted, tossing a yellow jumper onto the pile of clothes donning hangers before grabbing a new top and hanger from their respective piles.

With just about a day having passed since arriving in Hawkins, most of her bedroom was coming along. She had propped her record player on a long dresser by the door, three crates of records stacked nearly to the height of the furniture. Just shy of the dresser was a completely bare desk, only donning an unlit lamp on the corner. She'd yet to unpack a box of books that she would stack along the shelf on top of the desk, the cardboard box sat haphazardly on a chair that wasn't big enough for it. Her bed, situated with her closet to one side and the view of the balcony to the other, was made, but entirely covered with clothes and hangers, barely able to be seen underneath it all.

A knock sounded on the door, Tatum only turning toward her father as she continued dancing, sliding a ratty Queen t-shirt onto a hanger.

"Yes?" she asked, voice bouncing along with her as she tossed the shirt onto the growing pile.

"You still up for going to the outlet store?" Jordan asked, cigarette hanging from his lips and burning low. "I thought I'd drop you off, get a few errands done and then come pick you up."

Still moving the music, she bounced over to a pair of white hi-top converse, plopping down onto the floor to put them on. "How long do you think?"

"It's only one store so I imagine it wouldn't take too long. An hour or so to pick things out and try them on?"

Tatum's eyes narrowed as she laced up her trainers, the groove no longer in her bones. "One store?"

Jordan hesitated, realizing what she meant. "There's not a mall here. Not yet, at least. They're building one, but it won't be done until next summer. You'll have to settle with what we've got."

"I thought America prided itself on its malls," she said, standing up and pulling the needle up from a beloved record.

"Hawkins is a little behind, that's all." Jordan leaned over the open box of books, all clearly rifled through in Tatum's planning of setting them out. He grinned, picking up a two-year-old copy of  Carrie  that was well loved. "So, I got a call earlier from a friend." He faced the book toward her. "Elena and I will be going to Maine this weekend."

Tatum's jaw dropped, staring with wide eyes at her dad. "No way."

Jordan nodded with a smile. "I haven't seen Stephen in...three years? I think that was the last time he visited London."

"I want to go to Maine!" she declared. "I only got to meet him the one time."

"I think you should stay here and get to know the town, meet a few people. I know we ended up ordering in last night so I couldn't introduce you to anyone, but with school starting soon I know all the teenagers will be doing fun things. Find a bonfire or something to go to."

Tatum's brows furrowed lightly. "It sounds like you're encouraging me to party, Dad."

"I'm not saying you should go get pissed or anything, just go have fun," he countered. "Just make the most of your senior year." He tilted his chin to the side, heading out of the bedroom with her in tow.