Chapter Text
Friday night. 8:46 p.m.
Nancy sat curled into the corner of her couch as she scrolled through her phone.
She took another sip of red wine just as a message from her manager lit up the screen.
'What have you done? Are you reading what they're writing about you?'
8:47p.m.
Nancy rolled her eyes and swiped it away. Of course she had. The press loved tearing her apart - especially when she handed them a headline.
She kept scrolling. Another notification followed.
'You should cancel the interview tomorrow. Or at least reschedule.'
8:47p.m.
Gone with a flick of her thumb.
'If you don't answer me, I will come over.'
8:47p.m.
She sighed and finally opened the chat.
'I haven't done anything wrong.'
8:48p.m.
'There's footage of you punching Jonathan in the face while being completely wasted. This is not the kind of promo we need after the release.'
8:49p.m.
Nancy took a longer sip before responding.
'He was being a jerk. The media twists it however they want.'
8:49p.m.
'So what? People believe what they're told. You're being accused of domestic violence, Nancy. This is serious.'
8:50p.m.
'Jonathan and I aren't a thing anymore.'
8:50p.m.
'Legally, you are. He's still your husband. And now this divorce just got a lot harder for you.'
8:51p.m.
She closed the chat and shut off her phone.
Prick.
Yes, she'd had a little too much to drink.
Yes, her hand had slipped.
So what? It hadn't even been that hard. Where was the footage of Jonathan yelling at her before that? - Non-existent of course.
The paparazzi and the press were having a great time with it - Nancy Wheeler, lead actress of "After June", caught on camera getting violent with her unofficial ex-husband and co-star, Jonathan Byers.
Still, she was pretty sure she could spin it. Call it a joke or a misunderstanding. Maybe even a bold promo stunt.
Tomorrow's interview would take care of it.
Her phone buzzed a few more times, vibrating against the couch. She ignored it - until she didn't. When she finally picked it up, the last message read:
'Good night, Nancy. We'll talk about this tomorrow.'
8:55p.m.
She rolled her eyes and stood, setting her wine glass on the table.
In the kitchen, she opened the fridge, hoping for... something. Anything. All that stared back at her was a couple of yogurts and a half-empty bottle of hot sauce.
"Great," she muttered, shutting the door with a groan.
Maybe she should stop living off takeout and actually buy groceries again.
Or... she could just get something right now.
The gas station was close. A drink. Some snacks. Maybe a pack of cigarettes. She didn't really smoke much - only occasionally. Tonight felt like one of those occasions, after all that went down.
Decision made, Nancy pulled on a hoodie, jogging pants, sneakers, and a pair of sunglasses. She grabbed her phone, wallet, and keys, then stepped outside.
Luckily no paparazzi waiting in front of her door. Even though Nancy just loved handing out restraining orders like autographs.
The gas station was less than a kilometer away. The cold night air wrapped around her. She loved nights like this - quiet, calming in a way daylight never was.
Ahead, the neon sign glowed, its colors bleeding softly into the empty street.
With a ding, she stepped inside, giving the guy at the counter a quick, soft smile.
Two other people drifted through the aisles - a tall blonde woman and a guy who looked about eighteen or nineteen. No creepy men for once.
Nancy wandered past the snack shelves before heading to the refrigerator. Her eyes skimmed the rows until they landed on a can of Cherry Coke Zero - just out of reach. She got onto her tiptoes, stretching for it, when a gentle voice interrupted.
"Need a hand?"
Nancy turned to see the tall blonde woman standing there. She didn't answer, only nudged her sunglasses up onto her head to see better. Their eyes interlocked for a second.
"Cherry Coke Zero?" the woman asked with a smile, reaching for it without waiting for an answer. "Good choice. I'm more of a Vanilla Coke girl. I don't really like cherry." She handed Nancy the can and grabbed a Vanilla Coke for herself. Their hands brushed for a second, just briefly.
Nancy couldn't help but smile, murmuring a quiet, almost inaudible, "Thank you."
The woman grinned in return. "No problem." Then she turned around and continued down the aisle.
Nancy catched herself staring just a second longer, following the woman with her eyes, before the cold can in her hand brought her back to reality.
The kid was already at the counter, fumbling with a fake ID and muttering, when Nancy walked up to it. He was clearly trying to buy something alcoholic, and it was obvious to the cashier that he wasn't even close to twenty-one.
"I'm going to have to ask you to step aside, kid," the cashier said firmly, holding back the bottle. "You're not old enough to buy that."
The boy protested, voice rising. "Come on, man! It's fine, seriously! I just-"
The man behind the counter cut him off with a flat hand. "Nope. Time to go. Now."
Nancy stepped up to the counter, sliding her Cherry Coke Zero onto it. The cashier's attention shifted immediately.
"Anything else?" he asked politely.
"Cigarettes, please... yeah, these ones," Nancy said, pointing to her preferred pack.
As the cashier handed them over and Nancy paid, the boy lingered, still arguing. Nancy glanced back briefly, annoyed, and that tiny movement was enough.
The boy instantly recognized Nancy, maybe she should've left the sunglasses on. "Wait... aren't you Nancy Wheeler? Yoo, I've seen your tits in that one movie! Wasn't much to see though.." He laughed.
Nancy froze, gripping the pack of cigarettes a little tighter, heat rising in her cheeks out of embarrassment. She didn't answer, only adjusting her sunglasses - as if that did anything now. The man behind the counter, already annoyed, waved him toward the door.
"Sir, I said leave. Now. Or I will call the police." He said very clearly.
The boy smirked and leaned back slightly, smirking again. "Nancy Whoreler," he teased.
Nancy's jaw clenched.
"I get why he left you," the kid continued stepping closer. "You're kinda ugly in real life."
That was when taller woman stepped forward. She had already placed her Vanilla Coke on the counter and laid down the money. She slid into the position between Nancy and the boy. Her voice was sharp. "Back off, dude. Seriously. Now."
The boy's smirk faltered for a second, but he wasn't done. He took another step toward Nancy again, a disgusting grin on his face.
"I can totally understand that Jonathan had to sleep with other women. No one would fuck you sober."
Nancy's face went pale with shock and humiliation. That was it. She grabbed the first soda her hands found - accidentally Robin's Vanilla Coke - and stormed out, pushing the door open into the bright afternoon. Her heart pounded, her fingers tightening around the can.
Prick. Was this entire planet covered with jerks? She felt sick.
Robin grabbed the can, making sure it was paid for both of them and hurried after Nancy, glancing back for a second to see that the boy stayed behind. "Hey! I think you got my Coke! You know I really don't like cherry-" she called out a little jokingly, jogging to catch up.
Nancy froze mid-step as the words pulled her from her thoughts. She looked down at the can in her hand.
"Oh shit, sorry," she muttered, turning around and fumbling to swap the drinks.
"No worries," Robin said with a small smile as they exchanged cans.
Robin extended her hand. "I'm Robin, by the way."
"Nancy," she said, shaking the other woman's hand without hesitation. As their hands touched their eyes interlocked again.
"Nancy Wheeler," Robin repeated, tilting her head slightly, as she pulled her hand away again, dropping it to her side.
"Yeah... Of course, you know who I am," Nancy said.
"The kid said your name," Robin shrugged. "I have no idea who you are."
"You don't?" Nancy asked, surprised.
"No... have we met?" The taller woman asked geniunly raising her eyebrows.
"Are you serious? People usually know me," Nancy said nervously, a hint of confusion in her voice. Someone in this city that wasn't aware of her?
"Am I hurting your ego?" Robin teased.
Nancy shook her head, a small smirk forming. "No, it's just... if you don't know me for my work, you know me from some scandal. That's mostly the case."
"What? Are you a model or something?" Robin asked, curiosity lighting her face.
Nancy blushed slightly about the fact the other woman thought she could be a model. "An actress actually... I played in 'After June'... the new Netflix series...?"
"Oh... I don't watch Netflix... or anything really," Robin admitted.
"So you really don't know anything about me?" Nancy asked, raising an eyebrow geniunly amazed.
"I know you drink Cherry Coke Zero and smoke," Robin said with a small smile.
"Occasionally... ah shit, I didn't get a lighter," Nancy muttered, patting her pockets.
Robin pulled a small metal lighter from her pocket and handed it to her. "Here."
"Oh, thank you. You smoke? Want one?" Nancy asked, raising the cigarette to her lips.
"No, no... I just always carry a lighter for situations like this," Robin said with a small smile. "I don't smoke - it's really unhealthy, you know?"
"So is drinking Vanilla Coke with sugar," Nancy replied, blowing out some smoke, as she turned her head away.
"Touché," Robin smiled.
When Nancy pointed back at the gas station Robin turned her head around.
They both started laughing, glancing back as the kid finally stomped out, muttering to himself and clearly disappointed.
"Which car is yours?" Robin asked, scanning the lot.
"I walked here... I live close," Nancy replied, shrugging.
"Want me to drive you home...?" Robin offered.
Nancy looked around, trying to figure out which car might be hers, until her gaze followed Robin's. There it was: the black motorcycle glowing under the neon lights. It was convered in all sorts of stickers.
"You're serious?" Nancy asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I wouldn't be asking otherwise," Robin said, a small grin tugging at her lips.
Nancy surely wasn't thinking straight. Just getting onto a strangers motorcycle potentially getting kidnapped. Even though Robin claimed to not know Nancy, she really couldn't be sure that the other woman wasn't lying.
Yet, she followed her, Nancy sliding carefully behind Robin and wrapping her arms lightly around her waist. Robin could feel it through her jacket and, to her mild annoyance, she didn't entirely dislike it.
9:58p.m.
After a short ride, they pulled up outside Nancy's place. Another thing, she didn't know if it was a smart idea. Just giving a stranger your address risking being doxxed.
"Thank you... for everything," Nancy said softly as she swung her leg off the bike.
"No problem, Wheeler," Robin replied, a teasing tone in her voice.
Nancy hesitated, then blurted out, "It's a weird question, but... would you maybe like to come in? Have a glass of red wine with me?"
Now, as she offered the, really pretty, stranger to enter her house, Nancy wondered if maybe she really did drink a little too much today. Was this the right choice?
But something about the way Robin talked, made Nancy trust her. She seemed so honest... Whatever this even meant in nowadays society.
Nancy had quite a background of trusting people that betrayed her. Of believing someone was being upright, only for them to turn out being an absolute asshole.
Robin arched an eyebrow, smirking. "You sure I'm not a serial killer or something?"
Nancy laughed nervously - she was absolutely not sure of anything in this moment. "Oh, believe me, the press is killing me enough already... Actually, forget it. I'm sorry for even asking such a weird-"
"I'd like to," Robin cut in, smiling also receiving one in response.
Nancy led the way inside, and the taller woman followed.
"Jesus... you really are rich. Like, the outside was already impressive, but... do I even want to know how much everything in here is worth?" Robin asked, eyes widening as she took in the space.
"Probably not," Nancy said, smirking. "However, if you do want to rob me, I'd go for the paintings. Preferably the one in the guest bathroom - it was a gift by Henry Creel, but it's incredibly ugly."
Robin laughed, moving through the living room and scanning the art on the walls with mock seriousness.
Nancy sat down on her usual spot on the couch, taking a quick glance at the half empty wine glass before shifting her attention to Robin.
Something about the way the taller woman squinted her eyes at the art was very amusing to Nancy.
"Can I put my Vanilla Coke in your fridge?" Robin asked, gesturing to the small can in her hand.
"Suit yourself," Nancy replied, glancing over to the kitchen.
"Actually, do you mind putting mine in too?" She continues, taking it out of her hoodie pocket, holding it out for Robin.
She was about to get up, but the taller woman actually walked over, taking it from her hand as she smiled.
Robin made her way over to the kitchen opened the fridge and carefully set the cans inside.
"Yogurt and hot sauce... interesting," she remarked, eyebrow raised.
Nancy chuckled, slightly embarrassed. "It's the rich lifestyle, you know."
Robin laughed at that.
"So... red wine?" Nancy asked slowly, gesturing toward the bottle on the table.
"I normally wouldn't say no," Robin replied, "but I'm pretty sure I'll have to drive back home tonight. I'm not gonna drink and drive."
"Oh, yeah. No, you're totally right," Nancy said quickly. "I didn't even think about that."
Robin crossed the room and sat down on the other end of the couch, her eyes drifting to the coffee table almost automatically. She skimmed it for a second, unconsciously taking inventory.
A half-empty glass of red wine, lipstick smudged faintly on the rim. The bottle beside it was nearly empty. A small stack of handwritten notes, folded and unfolded too many times. A pen without a cap. A pair of gold earrings resting on top of a fashion magazine. A few rings scattered across. Empty wrappers and a takeout box.
"Oh uh, excuse the mess," Nancy said lightly. "My maid is currently on vacation."
Robin laughed, but stopped when she noticed Nancy's expression hadn't changed at all.
"You're being serious?" Robin asked.
"Yeah. Of course," Nancy replied flatly.
Robin shook her head in disbelief, letting out a chuckle. "No, it's fine. I just-" she gestured vaguely toward the table, "I have this thing where I look at people's stuff to get a picture of them."
Nancy raised an eyebrow. "And what's mine telling you?"
Robin leaned back, pretending to think. "That your maid should maybe come back from her vacation." A smirk forming on her face.
Nancy let out a quick laugh. "Okay, fair."
There was a small pause before Nancy spoke again, softer now. "So... what do you do?"
"I make music."
"Like," Nancy tilted her head, "as a hobby?"
Robin hesitated for half a second. "I mean... I'm releasing my third studio album, and I'm going on tour in a few months."
Nancy blinked. "Wait. You do music for a living?" She leaned forward. "Do I know one of your songs?"
"Well... maybe?" Robin shrugged. "How am I supposed to know?"
Nancy had already grabbed her phone, swiping away notifications before opening Spotify. She handed it to Robin without a word.
Robin took it, typed in her name, then handed it back.
"Robin Buckley," Nancy read aloud. Her eyes widened. "Oh my... thirteen point two million monthly listeners? You're famous."
Robin groaned quietly. "I hate when people say this."
Nancy ignored her, already pressing play on the top song: 'Are we friends?'
Robin sat there awkwardly, hands folded together as she played with her rings, watching Nancy out of the corner of her eye.
Nancy, meanwhile, was seemingly mesmerized. She skipped to another song. Then another.
"This is... really good," she said finally. "How have I never heard of you before?"
Robin exhaled, half-smiling. "Well," she said, "I never heard of you either."