Chapter Text
The Cat Sitter
Chrissy really needed an apartment. Her mother kicked her out weeks ago for dumping her cheating high school boyfriend Jason, forcing Chrissy to move thousands of miles away from the familiar and stifling Indiana and in with the energetic forced Nancy Wheeler. The problem was that Nancy lived in a tiny New York City room the size of Chrissy’s walk-in closet at her parents’ house back in Hawkins and Nancy’s books and journals and article storyboards were everywhere.. She loved Nancy, she really did, but Chrissy definitely needed her own space. Problem was that Chrissy had virtually no savings as her mother, the bitch that Laura Cunningham is, refused to let her father send her money. In Laura’s mind, unless Chrissy went back to the perfect Jason, begging him to take her back (not that her mother would admit that her daughter knew her own mind to break up with the cheating asshole), then the Cunningham’s only had a son. Their daughter no longer existed and that daughter had to get a job for the first time in her twenty four years. That boy is the only way you will be successful in life. You are a failure if you don’t have the Carver name. In Chrissy’s mind, a job was an improvement over the possibly of becoming trapped in a marriage with a man she did not really job and children she would be forced to have despite being terrified and completely unsuited. Chrissy wanted to live and she could not do that in Hawkins. She could not do that with Jason. She could not live in the shadow of Laura Cunningham.
It was a dreary Saturday morning when Nancy shoved her laptop at Chrissy, startling the still sleepy blonde, almost spilling her coffee and scrambled eggs on her baggy pajamas. The two roommates made a point of eating breakfast together every morning, partly because Nancy wanted to watch Chrissy eat at least one meal a day and partly because it was the only time Chrissy knew she would see her busy roommate.
“Here. This may be perfect for you.” Nancy said in a clipped tone, almost reminiscent of her mother suggesting that the grapefruit on her plate was too large for Chrissy’s appetite. Chrissy flinched but pushes away that negative feeling. This was Nancy, not Laura.
“What is it?” Chrissy took the battered but loved laptop, covered in stickers and scratches.
“Its an ad for a subletter and cat sitter. I know you’re going crazy here with me. Look.”
Chrissy rubbed her eyes before looking at the ad on the neighborhood Facebook group.
Cat Sitter and Subletter Needed Immediately
I am a touring musician living in the neighborhood and am in need of a subletter and cat sitter. I am leaving on June 8th for a year long tour with my band and cannot bring my cat along this time. I took my cat e on the last tour but it was too stressful for my girl. I need someone to living in my apartment for a discounted rate to take care of the apartment and my cat, giving her attention, scooping litter and feeding twice daily. I will provide all necessities for my cat. All my personal belongings with be boxed up and stored for the convenience of the subletter.
$500 a month with utilities included.
One bedroom, one bathroom, small kitchen with eat in nook and small living room. All furniture gently used but included. Quiet, safe building with elderly woman as super. Apartment on third floor, close to subway, grocery store and park.
Please contact me as soon as possible if interested
Edward Munson
There was a number at the end of the ad. It was perfect. Chrissy had never had an animal but she was pretty sure she could do it and she could afford the room with her job as a barista. She wouldn’t have to buy furniture, which was a plus. A smile formed on Chrissy’s lips and she looked up at Nancy with a thankful look on her face.
“I need more coffee. I have a phone call to make.”
The voice on the other end of the phone was deeper than Chrissy expected. Edward, or Eddie as he insisted, was barely awake when Chrissy called. In fact, she was almost certain she woke the man up. He croaked out a time to meet and told her he’d text her the address to meet later in the day and hung up. It was almost dinnertime when Chrissy found herself buzzing the doorbell to an old brick three story building two subway stops from Nancy’s place. It looked well cared for on the outside. Planters lined the stairs to the front door with a light brown mat wet with the morning’s rain. Chrissy buzzed again, doublechecking that she had the correct address. Apartment 3C was on the top floor. Chrissy was looking around the street when the intercom came to life.
“Yeah?” It was a garbled male voice.
“Eddie? It’s Chrissy from earlier? I called earlier? To see about your apartment?” Despite hating her mother, Chrissy made she sure put the sweetness in her voice that Laura always demanded Chrissy project with talking to men. Men preferred a sweet woman over an outwardly firm woman, as Laura constantly reminded Chrissy of. Laura always talked to her father Phillip as if he was the most precious person in the world. He was to Laura. Her good name and her money came from the Cunninghams. Laura was nothing without her husband’s name and money and if Laura was nothing then Chrissy was less than nothing, something Chrissy could never forget. We are here for them. Our happiness is secondary.
“Oh shit. Yeah.” The male voice crackled over the intercom. “Sorry, I fell asleep again. Cat was on my lap. Come on up. Third floor.” The door buzzed and Chrissy was about to open the heavy door. She took a deep breath and went in. The inside was bright white with white walls and fluorescent white lights, both harsh to Chrissy’s eyes and banishing the dreariness outside. She looked for an elevator but there wasn’t one. Laura’s voice immediately came back. Good. Taking the stairs will be exercise. Shaking her head, Chrissy went to the wide wood stairs and climbed to the third floor. Apartment 3 C was at the end of the hall with a bland brown door with pealing paint. Another deep breath, Chrissy knocked hard, unladylike.
Chrissy lost her breath when the boring door opened. The man on the other side was anything but boring. Beautiful. Beautiful would be the word Chrissy would use. Taller than her by almost a foot, the man, Eddie, had a kind, sleepy face with a bit of stubble. His pale face was framed by long brown curls brushing the top of his wide shoulders, smushed on one side from sleep, lines from a pillow or couch imprinted on his cheek. Her eyes travelled down to his bare chest, covered with tattoos. His nipples were pierced. His bottom half was covered by loose fitting black sweatpants. He was barefoot. Her mouth was dry, so dry. She could feel her eyes go wide. Chrissy never saw a man in any state of undress. Jason wanted to wait till marriage, barely kissing her lips. Eddie’s lips looked soft, if a bit chapped. She wondered if men used ChapStick.
“See something you like, darling?” His scratchy voice snapped her gaze to his eyes. They were a glowing brown. They reminded her caramel on forbidden ice cream. The mischievous glint in Eddie’s eyes caused Chrissy’s heart to race. He laughed. Warmth flowed over Chrissy, jogging her consciousness. “Come on in. I’ll go put a shirt on.” He grinned deeply and stepped to the side to let Chrissy enter the dim apartment. Eddie closed the door and disappeared into an open door across the tiny room, leaving Chrissy frozen by the door.
“You can turn on the light, sweetheart! Its by the front door.” Eddie called from deep in what Chrissy assumed was his bedroom. Her bedroom. She would be sleeping in a strange man’s bed. A strange attractive man’s bed. A strange, extremely attractive man’s bed, with tattoos and piercings. Whore. Jason would be disappointed. Chrissy groped for a light switch, flicking everything on. Two yellow eyes glared at her from the top of the kitchen counter, causing Chrissy to yelp.
“Ah, I see you met Nightshade.” Eddie emerged from his bedroom. Her bedroom, THE bedroom. HARLOT. Chrissy shook her head, trying to banish her mother’s toxic voice from her brain, her mouth still dry as she took Eddie in. Somehow, he looked even more attractive in a black tank top. He came next to her, locked the door and picked up the black cat blending into the black microwave on the black countertop. Everything was black or red or brown. Laura Cunningham would hate it. Chrissy loved it. Chrissy watched as Eddie pressed a soft kiss to the cat’s head, the cat nuzzled her face into Eddie’s curls. Chrissy heart tightened with the sight of this man’s bond with this animal, an animal she would be responsible for. Before the thought had a chance to mull around in her head, the cat was thrust into Chrissy’s unprepared arms. She had to scramble to not drop the animal, who was heavier than it looked. Her skin went aflame with the cat crawling up to Chrissy’s shoulder, clawing digging in for grip.
“Oh shit. Sorry. I guess she is almost as big as you are. You really are tiny. Chrissy, right? What is that short for?” Eddie looked almost embarrassed that he did not factor in the strength of his cat.
“Christine, Christine Cunningham.” Chrissy said quietly, her purse loose on her forearm as she juggled the black unit of fur purring by her right ear. Eddie reached out, grabbing her purse from her arm, placing it on the countertop. Her arm was warm from his touch. Chrissy could not stop her smile.
“Well, my darling Christine, it appears that Nightshade likes you. Good. That makes this all easier. If my she didn’t like you, this wouldn’t work out, no matter how cute you are.” Eddie laughed, deeply, a richness that matched the awe in his honey eyes.
“Yes, it is a good thing. She seems sweet.” Chrissy said quietly, feeling her cheeks grow hot.
“Oh sweetness, you are sweet but my cat is not. She’s almost as much of a terror as I am.” He clapped his hands together, drawing Chrissy’s attention to his long fingers adorned with chunky silver rings, his nails were bitten to the ends, painted black, a thin hair tie around his one wrist. She imagined his curls struggling to stay back with that small hair tie. Her scrunchies would work better. Chrissy licked her lips and tried to banish the unclean thoughts from her head. “So, you want to see the apartment?” Chrissy nodded and Eddie sprung into action. He turned and her gaze fell downward to his sweatpants. Well, that’s a nice ass. It was a new voice. It was Chrissy’s voice, small but clear. The purring cat licked her ear and gave her a little bite. Chrissy’s giggled and followed the bouncing curls and wild hands that she would come to identify as Oh-So-Eddie.
Chrissy was screwed. And she couldn’t find herself caring.