a missing penny here and there wouldn’t do much to damage the rietveld fortune. eddie felt almost dirty using it ; handing over coins and buttons and pieces of pocket lint made him feel like less of a phony. his eyes, somewhere between pale blue and grey, caught the stranger’s little disappearing act, but it was easier not to speak up. enjoy it, he thought. put it towards something nice. he gratefully took his own and slipped in into his wallet, tucking it into the back pocket of his pants.
“get this girl all the cherries.” eddie smiled at the bartender and knocked his fist against the wood, as if his display would convince the worker to hand over all their little red fruits — some sort of fresh produce hostage situation. he fixed his glasses with one finger, nodding at the rockstar, waving his hand dismissively. “it’s just a drink. you can pay me back with a signed album so i can keep it close and sell it for ten times the price in a year or two.”
whisky clinked against the bright red fruit punch. eddie grabbed his carton of cigarettes from the pocket in his shirt and asked, as he stepped away from the bar, “you smoke ? ” whether she did or didn’t, he moved towards the smoking area as if walking on air. the conversation had sobered him up enough that he no longer tripped over his toes with every step, although he struggled to maintain a straight line as he weaved through patrons, excusing himself whenever he came too close to knocking into anyone. with the cold night air on their faces, he hung a smoke between his lips and illuminated the darkness with flame. eddie took a drag, holding the cigarette in his first and second fingers, clutching his glass with the others.
“an archaeologist, yes. you can ask me whatever questions you like. it’s sort of my job, actually. i’m less into fieldwork now, so i’m based up at the museum,” his spare hand gestured indeterminately in the general direction of the institution. “less bones and pottery and more dusting and teaching, but it pays the bills and keeps me busy. it’s the family business. if you get a chance to look on the ol' google, search for eugene rietveld and see if you see the resemblance.” eddie breathed through his teeth and tapped the growing tower of ash away onto the ground. “the name’s edwin, not milo. but eddie’ll do just fine. colby sounds like a second name to me. you could just go by that, you know — like prince.”
he would stick with rockstar. easier that way. another tendril of smoke twirled from his lips like a hand flexing its fingers. “i keep busy with mostly research these days. curation, conservation, the occasional appraisal. those sorts of things.”