caffeine considerations. | solo
WHO: sam evans (mentions of rachel berry & others)
WHAT: a necessary return to routine. FOR TASK 07
WHEN: 2/11; afternoon
WHERE: mystery ink tattoo shop; boston WC: 904
Getting the hell out of Castleport and back to his regular routine was absolutely necessary.
There’d been too much of the back and forth lately, the result of it a few hundred more miles on his Jeep and a whole new rear window for the effort. Thinking too much on the latter only pissed him off, so instead he channeled his focus into work.
The busy bustle of Mystery Ink was a welcome reprieve from the chaos of Castleport, where his routine was easier to navigate. His schedule was packed, the uptick in clients more than likely blamed on the upcoming holiday. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was about February 14th but the days leading up to it was typically crowded with all types of people looking to express their sentiments, schmaltz or otherwise, on the day of love, ink-style.
But Sam took at advantage of that, letting his mind settle into the comforting adrenaline rush of work mode--the buzz of needles, ink palettes, sketchbooks, and late night artwork. It was exactly what he needed.
Though, in those small breaks, between clients and chats with his coworkers, it was tough to turn off certain thoughts about his hometown, at least not completely. His two-thirty client had wanted a galaxy of stars, a blend of shading and geometric blocking that was in this year, but at least it wasn’t the typical design. It proved to be a challenge, exactly the kind of art and ink he preferred...even if the stars aesthetic reminded him of Rachel.
She used to add them to everything...even instagram captions. Sam recalled a time in high school when he’d asked to borrow her notes in World Civ and there they were, tiny stars dotting her neatly written ‘i’s. It was the weirdly cute, if a little grating kind of self confidence boosting shit she did that Sam had to give her credit for, it certainly made her memorable.
Then again, Rachel didn’t pop up in his mind too much, at least not as often as before. When the news was still fresh and Sam, like most of the people who knew (and in his case, only sorta tolerated) her, were confused and mostly curious about the case. When it seemed like the police had some actual footing, the texts and the discovery of the guy that Sam had immediately gotten a bad vibe from, off their messages alone. And Rachel was a handful, but she didn’t deserve the aggressive attention and stalking that came with being involved with a guy like Brody. He’d always believed something had happened, even if he wasn’t sure what the hell it was. Call it a gut instinct.
And it also wasn’t entirely surprising the cops had dropped the ball in their own investigation. Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust and busied his hands with the Cafe Bustelo at the coffee bar, filling his Spiderman mug with the robust roast before adding enough milk and sugar.
He could recall just how utterly useless the police had been, in his personal encounters with Castleport’s finest. The many nights his father had spent in the drunk tank or had his keys taken away, or needed a police escort home. The pitying looks that followed a disapproving tone that reeked of judgment and it annoyed the absolute shit out of Sam. Much more than his own run-ins when he got bold enough to take his art from the classrooms to the sides of buildings around town.
Rationally, he knew it wasn’t all the police’s fault...there were plenty of dead ends in Rachel’s disappearance, but it was instinct (and common sense) not to trust the cops. The one sure thing had seemingly slipped from their grasp with little effort. Knowing Brody was out there, most likely knowing a hell of a lot more than the police let the public in on...that was weird as hell.
Not to mention the necklace...the blood…
Briefly, Sam wondered about Mercedes. She was close to Rachel, and he was sure the news was only worrying the hell out of her. He hadn’t seen her around much, but that wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary; they tended to float and out of each other’s orbit, it didn’t seem like it wasn’t changing anytime soon. Still, he’d send a text or something to be sure.
He was doing it again, the mental slide right back into the whirlwind of bullshit and drama of Castleport. And Sam reasoned that maybe it was inevitable. He’d long stopped feeling tethered to the city he’d called home for the past years, but it was as if deciding to open his own shop back in Maine had knocked something loose inside of him.
And It wasn’t sustainable, living with one foot planted in the past but with everything happening, with his father and the bar, with his former classmates, and Rachel herself...it weighed on him. Tugged him further into his hometown that felt less and less like the place he remembered the longer he stayed and the longer Rachel stayed gone.
“Yo! Evans! Your four-thirty’s here.”
Jolting out of his thoughts, Sam pushed away from the window ledge where he’d been perched, coffee long cooled in his mug and flashed a brief smile in the direction of Janae, the shop’s front desk manager, setting aside the ramble of disappearing former classmates and bloody necklaces. At least for now.
“Be right there.”
