Page 3 of Entranced By the Nakken (Freedom, Love, Monsters #4)
Casey
The first thing Casey noticed at Erikson’s Thriftway was their new sign, which stood out against the building’s yellowing paint.
The second thing he noticed was that an old classmate had filled out the half-sleeve tattoo she’d started in high school, and then some.
Shit. She was cool as fuck, and he was bare as the day he was born.
Dope ass tattoos weren’t for business students.
Casey sped past Sophie at the deli counter, where he was supposed to pick up pastrami for his mom.
He took shelter with the mayonnaise, not sure why he was being such a pussy.
Sophie used to be a close friend. He’d genuinely meant to stay in touch after graduation, but all the let’s hang out, and when are we gonna grab a beer, never came to fruition.
By the time Casey bravely returned to the deli, she’d moved on. He grabbed the pastrami and paused to read the cheese selection for anything fancy. The universe laughed at him for thinking Erikson’s Thriftway would have anything other than cheddar, white cheddar, and mega-processed slices.
He was headed to the lone cash register when his phone buzzed. A text from mom, asking him to grab paper towels if he hadn’t left yet. Pocketing his phone, Casey spun the cart around. It snagged as it collided with another and Casey lurched forward, clothes-lining his gut with an oof.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” At the woman’s voice, Casey rested over his cart for an extra moment. The universe was punishing him with something worse than bad cheese this time. A conversation with an old friend. “Wait. Casey?”
Casey straightened and smiled, allowing his shoulders to relax. At least it was Sophie and not some dickhead from their school. “Hey, Sophie. Sorry about that, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I can’t believe it’s you! Oh my gosh,” her tone fell rapidly, her expression along with it. Casey’s anxiety came rushing back but faded into awkward confusion when Sophie rounded their carts to pull him in for a tight hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, there,” Casey soothed. He drew her in tighter and rubbed a comforting hand over her back. Clearly the woman was having a bad day. Hell, maybe she found it as hard to be in this town as he did. “It was just a little fender bender. At least you didn’t hit my Mercedez.”
Sophie barked a laugh and pulled away. “You have a Mercedez? Shit tits! Guess I’m not surprised.
I’ve seen your posts; you’re living our dream.
I’m so proud of you,” she said. Casey choked, shame rushing up his neck, but Sophie was oblivious.
She rushed on. “I mean it. I’m sorry for bailing on you back then, Casey.
And for never getting back in touch. Things got kind of weird for me there for a while. ”
Her eyes flicked away. Behind the layers of black, Sophie possessed a peppy spirit. He’d always assumed she kept it woven into the colorful strands of hair. Standing before him, Casey barely caught a glint of the confidence she used to wear like armor.
“Don’t worry about it.” He tossed an arm around her shoulders and rested his chin on her head when she leaned into him. “And don’t believe social media. I’m barely a college graduate. Definitely not opening for Michael Romance like we planned.”
“But you’ve played gigs, though! Oops, I mean, congratulations on graduating college, that’s, like, super cool too.” She dug an elbow in Casey’s ribs. He rolled his eyes and shoved her away. “Seriously, though, why are you in town?”
“When you get your undergrad, they don’t pass out jobs and houses. Just a lousy fuckin’ scroll.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh! And debt.”
“And a Mercedez.”
“Exactly. But I have a better question.” Taking hold of his cart, Casey nodded toward the far wall.
Sophie followed without missing a beat. “Why the fuck are you shopping at Erikson’s Thriftway and not stranded on the highway because your douche bassist—who isn’t me, obviously—forgot to fill the tank? ”
Sophie snorted and looked away. She covered it better this time, but Casey saw. Whatever weird things she’d survived had left scars. Instinct told him she didn’t speak of those scars often, but he refused to be the dick who pried when they were practically strangers.
“Because, obviously,” she singsonged, “the world wasn’t ready for the Red Leather Knights of Miserytown yet.”
“And they never shall be.” Casey gave a heartfelt sigh as they paused in aisle twelve. He scanned for the cheapest bundle before remembering his parents could afford three-ply paper goods. “The hall of fame will regret it someday.”
Sophie laughed. “No, but for real, most of it doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m here now, alive, and with a family of my own.”
“What!” Casey’s hand froze mid-reach. “You’re a mom?”
“Mm-hmm,” Sophie’s eyes glittered, and Casey decided he preferred her this way. Though, he didn’t miss the casual way she basically shrugged off the massive accomplishment of staying alive. “But like, a cool, headbanging one.”
“Naturally.” Casey flung the paper towels in his cart with a flourish.
“Yeah, so, my boyfriend—Noah—and I moved back when Arietta was born.” As they gravitated toward the register, Sophie added in a whisper, “We live in those shitty old apartments.”
Casey understood why she was less than proud to admit to living in the Oakview Apartments. The tenants were relentlessly bullied around town, from accusing everyone that lived there of being junkies or much worse things he wouldn’t even repeat mentally.
“Fuck yeah, Sophie, that’s amazing!” he exclaimed as they pulled up to the conveyer belt. “You know what that means, right?”
Sophie narrowed her eyes at him. Shit, she might expect him to say a nasty joke about her home. He hurried on, motioning between them. “It’s time to get the band back together! Let the world feast their ears on some fucking Red Leather Misery, or fucking whatever it was!”
Sophie’s genuine laughter chipped at the stones in his chest. Maybe moving back home wasn’t going to suck so bad.
They finished checking out, their easy conversation annoying the teenager manning the register. They parted with a final hug and promised to meet up soon, for real this time.
Walking up the driveway with groceries in tow, Casey was buzzed from the unexpectedly pleasant trip to Erikson’s Thriftway.
Inside the house, he was greeted by his mom’s off-key singing in the kitchen, and the hearth in his chest brightened.
Even his dad’s raspy one-sided argument with the politician on screen made him smile.
“I’m back,” Casey said. His mom startled despite his attempt to be obvious. He hid his amusement by unloading the groceries. “I think I got everything.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re an angel.” She swatted his hands away and took over. “Look at me, already putting you to work!”
“It’s fine, actually, I ran into Sophie.” Casey leaned against the counter next to a bowl of cookie dough.
“Sophie! You guys used to be friends. She has the cutest little girl now. How is she?”
“Fine, I think.” While mom’s back was turned, Casey ran his finger along the edge of the batter and licked it clean. “We’re gonna hang out sometime this week.”
“Oh, good! For both of you. The poor girl. She had a rough time after high school.”
“Why? Do you know?”
“I chat with her mom from time to time, but you know how mothers worry.” She smiled at him, and he nodded. He’d given her reasons to worry, plenty of which he didn’t need being spread across town. “Anyway, she’s got a good thing going for her, and that baby of hers, oh gosh! So cute!”
“Hmm,” Casey mused, forgetting to mask the sound of his tongue smacking up the cookie dough. Mom shot him an accusatory glare and dramatically moved the tasty glass bowl to the other side of the sink.
She wouldn’t give up any more information, so he’d have to be sneaky about it. Fine. Mission acquired. Re-befriend Sophie. Earn her trust. Learn her secrets. Remind her that she’s worthy. Not like he’s doing anything else these days.
Retreating to his bedroom, he plunked down on the small bed and took out his phone. He opened Sophie’s text thread and shot a quick message that he was down to jam or get drinks any day of the week.
Glancing around the room, his gaze lingered on the keyboard, already set up.
A Martin acoustic guitar leaned in the corner.
Rhythm guitar wasn’t his strongest suit.
A Spector Timbre acoustic bass hung on the wall, his preferred way to shape skeleton songs for his lyrics.
He was rusty, but unlike economics, he knew he needed only to pick one up for long enough to get it back.
Ugh, but he should be doing something productive. Like looking for jobs.
Casey spent the hour scrolling through job listings on his phone, his emotional bandwidth steadily declining.
He found two that didn’t sound mind-numbingly boring.
Shortly after switching from job boards to social media, the fatigue of depression kicked in.
His eyelids sank closed. When his phone slipped out of his hand, clocking him hard on the nose, he caved.
Notebook, pen, and bass in tow, he fled to the comfort of his secret haven.
As he approached, he heard the same otherworldly music. Beautiful and sad. A pang of grief punched Casey’s gut, a longing for somewhere he’d never been. It threatened to send him to his knees, but he forced his feet forward.
The music grew louder with every step until he couldn’t deny it was real. This was no figment of his imagination. Something between the trees reflected the sunlight like a mosaic.
Casey emerged from the tree line. The music stopped abruptly, but the masterpiece sitting on a large rock smack dab in the middle of the brook was definitely prettier than any mosaic.
“It’s you,” Casey breathed. He felt like a starstruck groupie gaping at their favorite musician. “You’re—you’re—”