𝙐𝙇𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙑𝙄𝙊𝙇𝙀𝙏 - 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙩𝙤𝙣

I

Violet pricks an ear to the commotion arising behind the closed door just beyond the counter. She glances up at the weathered palm tree sticker reading 'Rodney Kloss'. It wouldn't be long now, she tells herself as she gets up from her chair. Not long at all.

She attends to the silent player at the back of the room, peering into today's rotation. A grin creeps across her face when she spies the very shiny, very new copy of Bad Moon Rising tucked between the old Jazz titles her boss insisted on playing for most of the day. Violet had taken it upon herself to peel the plastic free from one the copies and tuck it into the 'for store play' crate when he wasn't looking. She tips the sleeve upside down, gently wriggling the waxy plastic free until she could hold it with two palms. Carefully lowers it onto the mat, raising the needle across and down into the first groove. It crackles and spits against the freshness. The first eerie strings of Intro start to play. Shame that bastard wouldn't give anything else a chance, she thinks spitefully to herself, letting the record unravel itself for the next half an hour.

Violet had just withdrawn a spare crate for the new sealed records going on shelves tomorrow when the office door swung open. Rod—the short, merry, always reeking of what Violet suspected were slightly stale cheetos businessman—beams at her.

She was itching to leave. The door swinging open was a sensation that seemed to cool her skin down. Her fingers uncurl from the wooden crate and drop to her sides, pushing for a polite smile despite her exhaustion.

'Violet,' Rod says, almost sighs. He cheerfully swings his bag over his shoulder in the same grace he'd looped his jacket over his arms, eyeing off the boxes on the counter. 'Lovely work.'

'I've sorted out the new sealed for tomorrow morning,' she says.

'Wonderful.'

'And the Indiana courier called saying next week's delivery is on it's way.'

She keeps the smile tacked to her cheeks a little longer. Her bag behind the counter almost screams to be picked up. 'Anything else you need from me?'

'Yes,' Rod replies with a smile, adjusting the thick rimmed glasses over his nose. 'You'll have to stay until we're intended to close.'

Violet's smile drops from her face, plummeting to the floor. 'Are you... you're not serious.'

'Marlene isn't coming in.'

'Why?'

He shrugs. 'She didn't say.'

'She didn't say?'

'Nope.'

'And you didn't think to ask her?'

'It's not my place.'

'She hasn't shown up to a shift in three weeks, Rod.'

He shrugs again. 'It's summer.'

It's summer. How Rod had worked in the Tape World management chain since his early twenties; Violet couldn't tell a single soul. You would think that being given the opportunity to look after a brand new store in a brand new mall complex would kneed the laziness out of him, but it only seemed to bake it to a crisp. She flutters her eyelids in temperance, biting the urge to get angry.

'.... So I'm supposed to...?'

'Up to you,' he says plainly. He had rummaged around his briefcase for a Snickers bar, having ripped the wrapper clean and torn a chunk of chocolate free with his teeth. 'Work. Don't work. We could close up shop, I lose business, you lose commission, we all go out of work by the end of the summer,' he says, mouth full of caramel. 'Your call.'