Chapter Text
Deena exhaled, shaking her hands above the steering wheel, trying to get rid of the sudden, uncharacteristic wave of anxiety that washed over her. This wasn’t just a job interview. It was a Sunnyvale job interview. One that was paying 8 fucking bucks an hour . Nearly double the rate she could get in Shadyside. If she got this job, there would be less pressure on her dad, and maybe she could afford the tech-y shit that Josh kept talking about for his birthday this year.
Her chest tightened at the thought of her brother, causing her anxiety to spike again. She cursed, slamming her palm into the steering wheel.
“Get it the fuck together, Johnson,” She snapped, affording herself one more second of anxiety before she turned her car off. The ancient ‘86 Chevy groaned as the engine shuddered to a stop, Deena ceremoniously patting its hood as she locked the doors. She shoved her hands in her jacket, acutely aware how it’s faded green, threadbare appearance compared against the practically shining buildings of Sunnyvale. She thumbed the folded resume that was shoved into her pocket, mentally rehearsing what the piece of paper said.
What few pedestrians that were on the street this Thursday afternoon gave her a wide-berth, and Deena just shrugged off their judgemental whispers as she approached the front of the store.
Berman’s Records & Tapes
The hand-painted sign stood out amongst the other, clearly more professional, storefronts. The displays were filled with mannequins holding a variety of instruments or surrounding a record player, vinyl covers artistically scattered around the display’s floor.
A bell chimed behind Deena as she entered, the door shutting behind her with a quiet hiss before sealing. Deena scanned the store, barely taking in the quiet pop song playing from the speakers, noting the abandoned cash register with a magazine discarded on the top of the counter. The sound of thin metal jingling grew louder, as well as a rhythmic thud of… something running across the carpeted store, before a short, merle dog was jumping at her knees.
Deena laughed in surprise, stumbling at first at the sudden weight slamming into her shins, before recovering. Her brows furrowed and she crouched down to the dog, smiling in disbelief. A dog greeting her instead of a person was… not on her list of things to expect at a job interview. The dog, however, seemed overjoyed at the prospect of a new friend, eagerly launching his face into Deena’s, covering it in drool. Deena couldn’t find herself to be mad, laughing at the dog’s antics and trying to push his dense little body away from her so she could stand.
A high pitched whistle pierced the store and both Deena and her new friend turned to look at a woman, her index finger and thumb in her mouth as she whistled once more. The dog gave a whine before scrambling off of Deena to run over to the woman. His little nub of a tail wagged furiously as he sat at the woman’s feet, attention torn between her and Deena.
The woman gave a heavy sigh before bending down to pet the dog’s head. “We’ve talked about this, Major, you need better manners,” She said quietly, before standing up again, pointedly looking at Deena. “I’m assuming you’re here for the job?”
“Yes!” Deena shot out quickly, too quickly, and she nervously rubbed her hands on the thighs of her jeans as she stood up. “Yes. Hi. I’m Deena Johnson, and you’re..?” She slowly extended her hand out, hoping she came off more professional than she felt.
The woman’s gaze immediately fell on Deena’s outstretched hand before looking back at the girl. “Berman.” She turned on her heels and continued to the back of the store, snapping her fingers once. The dog - Major - obediently followed at her heels.
Deena quietly scoffed, awkwardly letting her hand fall before catching up with the woman. She followed her through racks of cassettes, vinyls, instrumental gear, music players, and much more, before suddenly stopping when Berman turned back to face her.
“Can you stack things on shelves and answer questions when asked?” Her tone was dry, clearly disinterested.
“What..?” The woman’s tone threw Deena for a moment, before she recovered. “Yeah, yeah, of course I can do those things.”
Berman hummed, picking up a crate filled with vinyl records, their covers a bit worn, clearly second-hand. “Can you put things in order and make sure they stay in order?”
“Yes,” Deena curtly replied, holding her tongue to not add “I’m not some fucking idiot.” It was like Berman knew what Deena wanted to add, giving the teenager a small smirk before shouldering past her with the crate of records, moving towards the counter. Deena turned to watch her, hand gripping the folded resume in her pocket, about to proffer it to Berman.
“Great. Congrats on the job. You said you can work at 4, right?” Deena was about to respond, but Berman continued, her back towards the teenager. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” She hefted the crate onto the counter, Major jumping up over the lip to go behind the elevated area.
Deena stood there for a second, mouth slightly hanging open as she watched Berman sort through the vinyls. The older woman looked back at her, that smirk still on her face. “Did you hear me, kid? You got the job. See you tomorrow.”
“Uh… thanks?” Deena feebly said, moving to walk past the strange woman, numb as she left the store. She swore she could hear the woman laughing as the door closed behind her, but Deena was too stunned to really care. She had a job. Maybe with a weird fucking owner, but she had a fucking job . Nothing, not even her car sputtering to start, could piss her off right now.
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“She didn’t even ask for your fucking resume?” Kate questioned, moving to sit besides Simon on the old couch in Deena’s living room. Simon slowly stretched his hand out to take the slice of pizza off of the paper plate she clutched in her hand. Without looking, she swatted his palm away, ignoring his high pitched, faux cries of pain, rolling her eyes at the sound.
Perching herself on the arm of the recliner opposite of her friends, Deena shrugged in response, swallowing the molten hot piece of cheese and dough. “More or less,” She choked, face scrunched at the temperature of the food. “I mean, I called her before just showing up. She asked what I’ve done before, but she didn’t seem to care.”
Simon hummed from his position on the back of the couch, his paper plate already empty, leaning both elbows onto his knees. Kate nodded, looking over at Simon for a split second, the two locking eyes before they both looked back at Deena. Deena groaned, already anticipating some stupid bullshit to come out of their mouths.
“It’s totally a front for drugs,” They said in unison. Deena rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her pizza and not giving them a reaction.
This, clearly, was the wrong thing to do, as Kate continued to speak. “Why else would she pay you 8 dollars and then give you a job on the spot? Without caring that you’re from Shadyside? Or.. or even any proof of who you are?” Simon nodded in agreement, though he had a grin on his face.
“Yeah, that’s totally it. I mean, she hired you , of all people.” Simon yelped as the TV remote was thrown at him, hitting him in the chest. He giggled, ducking behind Kate’s much smaller frame.
Deena scoffed, taking another bite of her pizza. “That’s not it at all,” she said, the words a bit distorted from the food in her mouth. “She’s just… a weird lady who owns a small music store. Maybe she just needed help.”
Both of her friends hummed in disagreement, Simon getting up to refill his cup of soda in the kitchen. “It’s in Sunnyvale, D. They don’t need anything.” She ignored his comments, turning to Kate instead. Kate made a face, one that Deena recognized as " He’s right, you know. "
“When do you even start working for this drug lord, anyways?” Kate asked, putting her paper plate down, reclining a bit now that the couch was empty.
Deena hesitated, taking a long sip from her drink, ignoring Kate’s pointed look. “Tomorrow at 4pm..” She trailed off, eyes preemptively closed as she anticipated Simon’s response.
“4pm? ” He screeched, shooting out of the kitchen, soda forgotten, grabbing onto Deena’s shoulders. He stooped just low enough to look her in the eyes, squeezing her shoulders until Deena, exasperated, finally looked at him. “You’re going to be working on a Friday night? In the fall? And miss our post game ritual?!”
Deena swatted at his arms, lightly at first and then forceful when he refused to let go. “It’s not like I’ve been at the games for the past month, anyways, Si.”
The blonde choked, throwing his hands up in disbelief. “Sure! But you’ve been to our post game ritual every. Single. Time.” Kate nodded from behind him on the couch, giving her a smirk.
“It’s true, bitch. Job or not, it’s been happening for 4 years.” She shrugged when Deena flipped her off, standing up to be beside Simon in harassing her best friend. “Just because you quit marching band over your breakup, doesn’t mean you suddenly get to skip out on post game fun.”
Groaning, Deena threw her head back in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’m sure I’ll be done before 9, I’ll pick you up after the game.” She ignored the small, triumphant hmph! from Simon as he went back to the kitchen. Kate, however, still stood in front of Deena. “What?”
Kate locked eyes with her, crossing her arms. “You’re just getting this job for the pay, right ?” Her voice was filled with judgment. Deena groaned, dramatically rolling her eyes.
“Yes, Kate, I’m getting the job for the pay. Can you tell me about any place in Shitty-side that pays over 4 bucks hourly?” Kate frowned at her response, face scrunching up as she tried to think of a retort. Failing, Deena smirked, leaning back against the chair. “No? Exactly. Tell me when you find a place, and I’ll get a job there, instead.”
“Whatever. But if your ass gets all weird again with your ex, I’m going to beat you.”
Deena waved off the threat, grinning at Kate’s words. “Please. I haven’t seen her in a month, there’s nothing to worry about.”
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School went by in a blur, Deena not really paying attention to her classes, or any of the homework that she would need to do over the weekend (besides, if she didn’t remember, she knew Kate would hassle her about it, anyways). Her mind was preoccupied with her new job, making sure she took the most direct route from Shadyside to Sunnyvale, preparing what routes to take in case there was traffic. She continued to replay each strategy, each route, going into an auto-pilot like state before she realized she was sitting in the parking lot of Berman’s store.
It was like she moved without thinking, turning her car off and flinging her backpack over her shoulder as she entered the store. It was just the same as yesterday, though the only difference Deena could note was that there was a different magazine resting on the counter, and a different genre of music - maybe punk? - playing through the speakers.
“Berman?” She called out to the empty space, idly walking across the front of the few aisles, hoping to see the strange woman and her dog. Impatient, she continued down the aisles, poking her head around each end. “I’m here when you told me to be,” Deena ducked under a fallen display poster, navigating towards what appeared to be the stockroom. “Where the hell are you?”
The door was wide open, and besides a set of small, matching metal bowls and accompanying dog bed, it appeared to be an average storeroom. A messy and clearly unorganized one, but normal, at least. Deena opened her mouth, about to call for the owner once more, but as she turned around she came face to face with Berman, smirking, with Major at her heels.
Deena bit down on her tongue, stopping herself from cursing at the woman in shock, heart thumping in her chest. The glint of metal caught her eye and she looked down to stare at a ring of keys that Berman was holding out to her, attached to some coiled plastic wristband.
“Your keys,” Berman stated dully, but her eyes glinted with something Deena couldn’t even hope to guess. “Lock up at night, count the cash and transactions, write it down in the log in the register till.” Deena took the keys, putting her wrist through the little neon colored band. It hung snugly on her wrist. Seemingly satisfied, Berman turned and walked towards the front of the store, both Major & Deena on her heels.
She pointed to the register, snugly fit on the corner of the counter, the counter itself elevated slightly from the floor. A tacky peach, artificial siding framed the counter, only parting for a glass display at the side, perpendicular to the door. It appeared to have the latest tape decks and smaller electronics, which Deena eagerly eyed, already knowing the specifics of each music player.
“Check people out, answer the phone if it rings,” Deena looked up to see where Berman was pointing. An old, discolored phone hung on the wall behind the register, its model similar to what the Johnson’s had in their house. “If nothing’s happening, make sure displays and shelves are stocked. Everything you need for that should be in the storeroom.”
Deena nodded along to the information, mentally noting the stereo system that was nestled in a carved out section behind the counter. It appeared to be one of the newer models that Deena had been eyeing up in an ad from Circuit City, one whose price made Deena’s eyes widen when she realized it was just sitting there, unguarded. That unit alone would’ve easily cost her father a month's pay, not to mention the CD and tape deck that were added to the system.
The sound of Berman clearing her throat shattered Deena’s trance, and she felt warmth creep across her face as she looked at her new boss. The older woman’s eyes seemed to glint again, seeming to hide a smile as she nodded towards the stereo system. “And feel free to play what you want. Just don’t break it, kid.”
Speechless, Deena nodded, left hand fidgeting with the keys that hung on her right wrist. “Is there anything else I need to know?” She asked, trying to bury her embarrassment at being caught ogling.
Berman huffed, shrugging. “Do you know how to dial 911?” Her tone dripped of sarcasm, and Deena’s face scrunched in a quick flash of anger, but she didn’t respond, nostrils flaring a bit. Laughing, Berman grabbed the magazine on the desk and walked past Deena to the entrance. “I think you’ll be fine, kid. My number’s on the counter, right next to the register. Close up at, oh, 8pm and then I’ll see you at noon tomorrow. Sound good?” Without waiting for a response from Deena, she snapped her fingers for Major as she opened the door. “Great.”
With that, the store was empty, and Deena was left to her devices.
She tapped her foot impatiently, torn between not wanting to get caught when looking at the stereo system again and wanting to make sure that this weird woman wasn’t trying to prank her. After a few seconds, with nothing happening besides passersby walking outside, Deena spun towards the counter, rushing to inspect the music system. She crouched down in front of it, unsure of where to start.
Normally, she wouldn’t care about things like this, especially whatever Josh talked about. She didn’t know anything about the Internet or AOL, besides Josh talking with some other geeks on it (and that it cost a fortune, but Josh swore Dad wasn’t paying for anything). But this? This was her specialty.
Her fingers roamed across the pristine system, mumbling about each spec that Berman carefully included. It had an auto-reverse feature, and just glancing at the deck itself, the capstan and pinch roller looked perfectly clean. The disc player looked just as clean, and Deena suddenly shot up, dashing to the aisle that appeared to have the largest display of discs.
She spotted a familiar red case and grabbed it, the nearby CD cases jostling with the force. Running back to the system, she carefully stopped it, gingerly taking the preloaded disc out and returning it to the case that was on top of the counter. Deena could feel her hands growing clammy, hastily rubbing them on her jeans so she could pry the new CD out of its plastic case and into the player.
The disc reader readily accepted the new CD, and shortly after the sounds of the familiar album began to play. Rancid’s Nihilism came through the speakers, clearer than its cassette version, and Deena found herself turning the dial up.
Satisfied, she stood up, a bit breathless in her excitement, and thankful the store was still empty. She made a mental note to grab an assortment of discs as she checked the stocks, knowing that she could only listen to the album repeat for so long. If the rest of the night went like this, maybe Deena could get used to this job.
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Running the store was… well, easy. Stocking the shop was no issue, most of the displays were full, and anything that seemed empty either had a copy buried in the boxes of the storeroom or had a note saying they were currently out of stock. If any customers came in, they would stare in surprise at Deena and hurry to browse what the store offered, appearing uncomfortable by the alternative rock that was being blasted out of the speakers.
Deena was sure she would’ve been scolded by someone if they saw what she was doing, would’ve told her to turn down the music, smile more at the customers, or just be more approachable, but she couldn’t find herself to care. They were Sunnyvalers, dressed in designer clothes, driving fancy cars to go back to their mini mansions. So what if they had to listen to a little music they didn’t like while buying things?
The last customer had mumbled something under her breath when she left, abhorred by Deena’s behavior. Yet, she still bought a handful of some CDs and a speaker that probably cost more than the gaming console Josh wanted. Deena considered the purchase a win, and gave the woman a big smile as she left.
A quiet click from the stereo and the repeat of the latest album tore Deena away from the register, shutting it quickly and crouching down to take the disc out. She changed it for Green Day’s debut album, grabbing the scattered CD cases she had piled up and made her way to return them to stock.
She hummed along to the opening song, rearranging the cases she happened to dislodge in her rush earlier in the night. The sun had set hours ago, and the analog clock on the wall read 7:30pm. While she had enjoyed spending the last few hours listening to music, she was eager to get the hell out of here and meet up with her friends.
Just as Deena was contemplating how she could waste the last 30 minutes of work, the song playing began to skip, and she cursed under her breath, returning to the counter. She knelt in front of it, delicately checking the disc and making sure it was alright.
It was then that the bells on the door jingled. A customer. Deena quietly sighed, putting the disc back in and standing up. “How can I help you?” She asked as she brushed her knees, not paying any attention to the customer. When she was met with silence, she turned to face them, about to snap for not answering.
The words died in her throat as she stared into familiar blue eyes.
Her throat felt dry as she forced herself to swallow, trying to regain some lost composure. Her hands closed in a fist as she willed buried feelings back down, bottling them back up. Instead she forced herself to sneer, nostrils flaring. She lifted her chin just a bit, happy for the slight elevation the area behind the counter gave her. “How can I help you?” Deena asked again, voice dripping with venom.
You are total chaos! And you have always been!
Instead of the sadness she would’ve expected from her ex, Sam squared her shoulders, meeting Deena with the same coldness. Her lips were set in a firm line before she spoke, curt, formal. Cold. Unfamiliar. “I already know what I’m buying, thank you.” She turned on her heel, and Deena watched her walk down the aisle with CDs.
So don’t blame me when you wake up in ten years just like your dad!
Deena forced herself to not stare at Sam as she walked past, only taking a shaky breath when she was farther away. She looked up at the ceiling, forcing tears back down.
Old and drunk and going nowhere !
Words she thought she had forgotten continued to replay in her mind, the argument in the hospital creeping back in. Her fist thumped against the vinyl countertop, trying to force the memory away.
“I didn’t know Berman was hiring,” Sam casually said, voice laced with ice, already returning to the counter with a CD. The words snapped Deena out of her head, and she stiffened at Sam’s voice. “She never mentioned to me that she needed any help.”
The comfort and familiarity that Sam used when talking about the strange owner only helped in sparking Deena’s defensive anger, not moving to take the CD case when Sam placed it on the counter. “Yeah, well. You know how it is in Shadyside,” Blue eyes met hers and Deena couldn’t help the sneer on her face as she continued, “Or do you? Forgot that you’re a Sunnyvaler now.”
Deena grabbed the CD off of the counter, maybe with a bit too much force, and entered the price into the register. Her fingers slammed on the keys and she turned back to Sam quickly. “$11.99. Cash or card?” She didn’t give Sam enough room to counter, giving the girl a scathing look as she waited expectantly.
I never want to see you again.
$12 slammed onto the counter, the bills scrunched like Sam had clenched her fist around them. Some part of her, bitter and wounded, grew a little satisfied in seeing familiar tears well up in Sam’s eyes. She didn’t think about the other part that ached at seeing Sam brought to tears, yet again, because of her.
“I just never expected to see you here. I thought 30 minutes was too long of a drive?”
Deena scoffed, putting the cash into the till and pulling out a penny, slamming it onto the CD case and pushing it across the counter towards Sam. “Yeah, well, needed the cash. Have a nice fucking day, Fraser.”
Sam frowned, grabbing her purchase and thumbing the penny. She paused, like she was about to say something before giving a huff, turning on her heel and leaving. The moment the door hissed behind her, Deena slammed her fist into the countertop once more, shouting a curse into the empty store. Trying to control her emotions, she stood at the counter for a few minutes before cursing again and locking the front door, closing the shop a few minutes early.
Fuck Sunnyvale.
And fuck Sam Fraser.
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The smell of cheap booze and cheaper weed filled Deena’s room, Simon splayed out starfished on her floor, Kate laying on her bed, and Deena leaning against it. Her radio blasted whatever station Kate had turned on earlier, none of them felt inclined to change it. Josh was nestled away in his little nerd land, and Dad was working a double shift. A perfect night to get crossfaded and shit talk your ex.
Deena grunted, hand outstretched towards Simon, who, without looking, gave her his bag of chips. She greedily grabbed a handful, offering some up to Kate before eating them. Her friend took a few before she, in turn, handed a blunt to Deena, who took a puff before giving it to Simon.
“Y’know, I know you literally have, but fuck her.” Simon said after inhaling, squealing when Deena’s heel dug into his side. Kate moved on the bed so she could look over the edge, hair undone and falling down. “I’m right!” Simon squealed again when Deena continued to push at his side, his hand shooting into the air so as to not drop the blunt.
“Douche.” Deena rolled her eyes, smiling a bit as Simon stuck his tongue out at her. She grabbed the bottle of Miller next to her, taking a swig before offering it to Kate, who took a quick sip of her own.
Kate held the bottle loosely in her hand, almost empty, liquid sloshing as she idly swung it. “She didn’t say anything else?”
Deena swatted at Simon’s hands as he tried to reach for the chip bag, her hand already stuffed in it. “No,” she answered between swats, “And I didn’t give her time to say anything. Didn’t care. She made it clear she never wanted to talk again.”
Kate hummed, clearly in disbelief, but didn’t comment as she finished off the bottle of beer. “Fuck her,” she agreed, and then snapped her fingers at Simon, who handed her a new bottle. She made quick work of the bottle cap, flicking it to the side of the room, ignoring Deena’s exclamation of protest at the trash on her floor.
“It’s weird that she was so… familiar with the store,” Simon commented, words slightly distorted around the junk food he was cramming into his mouth. Deena gave him a look of disgust, taking another drag of the blunt when he offered it to her. “I mean, why that store on the edge of Sunnyvale? It’s weird!”
Rolling her eyes, Deena shrugged, not wanting to linger on those details. “Who gives a fuck? I just hope she doesn’t show up again.” She stood up, stepping around Simon to get to the radio, flicking on another station and turning it up. “Can we just have fun and not talk about her?”
Both of her friends nodded, the two locking eyes and grinning, moving to sit up. Fuck exes, it was time to enjoy their night. Sam Fraser be damned.
But there was a part of Deena’s mind, small and nagging at the back of her head, that rationalized that this might not be the last time she sees Sam. And there was another part of her, larger and looming over her, that made her heart ache and yearn for the chance to see Sam again. She didn’t want to think about that, eagerly grabbing a new bottle of beer from Simon, taking a large drink from it and pushing those thoughts away. She bottled them up, locking them in the corner of her mind that was reserved for one Samantha Fraser.
Maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was the cheap weed that they could afford, or just wishful thinking, but Deena decided that she would never see Sam again. After all, that’s how Sam wanted it. And who was Deena to deny what Sam asked for?