Who: Max and Eddie What: Max frequents the bar and catches up with one of his favorite bartenders When: Around 2 am Sunday morning Where: Eddie's bar and The Rails Warnings: Language, drug references, tbd Status: COMPLETE
The weeks following the insanity that rocked New Waverly had not been kind to Eddie. The bar had been torn up hard by the chaos, forcing it to close its doors for repairs for nearly a week. That meant her primary source of income had been eradicated, even if a small sum of money was left under her doormat for "assisting" the Coalition: money which covered only a third of Rabah's hospital bills. To make up for a lack of income, she'd struggled for nearly anything to get by. She considered borrowing wealthy vessels and stealing their funds, but she hadn't possessed anyone since that night and didn't want to. While Rabah was on and off bedrest at home, her daughter was dealing drugs and turning tricks to make ends meet for two homes. Prostituting herself was the easy part. Eddie had never been respected and, in response, never had respect for herself. There was never gentle treatment or concern for her own pleasures. She was covered in scars for many reasons. It was true to say she'd never made love and so never knew what it felt like. Sometimes she left the man or woman with a handful of cash and a heavy heart, but it paid.
The drugs and alcohol were harder. After Mink had left, she had decided to drop all of her drinking and heroin abuse cold turkey, but it wasn't four days before she felt constantly ill, shaking and sweating. By the fourth night she was holed up in her bathroom with a needle. There was crying afterwards. A lot of cursing, pushing Tristan out of her mind, knowing that if he could see her now, how much she'd break his heart. How much hers was already broken. How much she wished it could have been perfect for them, after everything he had lost and suffered through. It was a big reason that she hadn't called him. The other was Jack Frost.
It was still all over the news, tucked along with every other recap report. For days it haunted her, dogging her steps, and had even kept her up one night, vomiting and dry heaving. Then one day the reports stopped suddenly and she hoped that was the end of it. But people talked and as the bar opened again, it was a conversation starter used far too often. It was then that Tristan texted her and while it seemed like a better idea to just throw her phone into a sewer duct, it was time to come clean. Eddie didn't want to think about the repercussions beyond hurting him – that itself was practically terrifying to imagine – but she didn't want to contemplate what it meant to turn herself in. She couldn't. The Coalition owned her; her mother needed her. If she ratted herself out, it wouldn't be the police she needed to fear: it was her employer and what they could do to her mother. Self-preservation for Eddie was a little less of a reason.
It was in this state that Max found her near closing time at Bugsy's. It had been a long night, but she'd worked her ass off and made some damn fine tips. It was even safe to say, even with the threat of her upcoming meeting with the professor on her mind, that she was almost okay. And that was good enough. So when everyone's favorite Russian walked through the door, she welcomed him like she always did: