HEART ACHE <3 REDDIE

chap 3: arcade boy

Richie

"Come one man! I've been coming here since I was 9! Just hire me!" I begged John Jenkins, the owner of the local arcade.

"Richie, you are not responsible. How can I trust you'll even show up?" he shook his head.

"I'm here everyday anyway! Please, man! I just got a roommate and I need a job. I'll be here every Saturday and Sunday. 9 AM to 6 PM. I'll even close! Please!" I poked out my bottom lip, doing my puppy dog eyes. Stan said the only way he would agree to me moving in was if I had a job by next Friday, and it was already Wednesday and I had packed up my entire room. I wasn't in the mood to unpack all my shit again.

John let out a sigh and dragged his hand across his face.

"Saturday, 9 AM sharp. If you're not here then you blew it." he finally agreed. I felt myself explode with excitement.

"God! Thank you so much, you old bastard!" I laughed, practically skipping toward the door. I was happy I finally got a job at a place I liked, despite the memories. Fucking Henry Bowers, having to ruin it for me.

I remembered that day so vividly. I remembered every detail but I pushed it deep down and acted like it hadn't happened. Word got around town eventually, and I knew my friends knew what had happened but they had the decency to not ask me about it. I was happy they didn't. I wasn't ready to... talk about it. To actually say it out loud. I didn't think I'd ever be ready.

I hopped in my old camaro, rusted all to hell, and waited for the engine to sputter on. Stan. I would call Stan first. Then Eddie. Maybe Bev. I wanted someone to be happy for me.

The second I got home I flew past the living room, into the kitchen, hanging up the phone from my mom was on from the dining room.

"Richard Tozier!" she screeched. I just ignored her and punched in Stan's number. I had his number memorized by heart. I had all my friends numbers memorized by heart.

"Uris household, Stanley speaking."

"Stan the man! I got the job! I got the fucking job!"

"Language!" my mom cut in from the dining room.

"Good job, Rich. I'm proud." he sounded tired, drained. I would be tired if I was Stan.

"You okay, Stanny?"

"Just tired, Richie." he droned.

"Oh... okay." Normally I would've made a crude joke involving his dick and his right hand but I didn't want to be snapped at.

I told him bye before deciding who to call next. Bev? Eddie? Oh Eddie. I could picture his stupid smile he would have once I told him. He would call me a prick or an asshole and it would have made me blush.

I punched in Bev's number. One ring. Two. Three.

"Hello?"

"Bev! You're never gonna guess-"

"Richie! Get off the phone already!" my mom screeched.

"You can gossip with Ms. Parkins later! Anyway..."

"Look Rich. I'm kinda busy right now. Can I call you later?"

I felt my heart sink a bit. I was so excited to tell her. To share the news and she didn't even care to hear it. I heard a voice whisper something in the background and I knitted my eyebrows together.

"Who's with you?"

"Gotta go, Rich!" and the line clicked off. What the hell? Why was everyone acting so weird?

I tried to call Bill, he wasn't home. Called Mike, no answer. He didn't even work that day. Then I called Eddie, wondering why I hadn't started with him in the first place.

"Hello Ms. K." I grinned into the line. I knew she would be the one to pick up. She always was unless she was at bingo, which was at 7 PM.

I heard her let out a big sigh before yelling "Eddie bear! The Tozier kid is on the phone!" I heard another line pick up and I figured it was their kitchen lane line as Eddie yelled back "I got it, Ma! Hang up now!" and there was a click.

"Hey Eddie bear." I teased. If only he could see the grin on my face.

"Whatta want, Richie?" Eddie asked. He didn't feed into my teasing like usual. He sounded even more tired than Stan had. What the hell was everyone's problem?

"I got a job." I cut the jokes. I suddenly wanted to be off the phone. I wanted to be in a bad mood too.

"Very funny Richie." Eddie sighed on the other end. I felt anger bubble up in my stomach and I felt like screaming "don't you think I'm capable of getting a job you little hypochondriac?!" But I didn't.

"I'm not joking." I spat. My tone was hateful, but I didn't even care.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Ri-"

"Forget it." And with that I slammed the phone down.