Strings Attached ➤ Jay

|| No Assholes Allowed

🎸

Leave Me Alone -

⭒˚｡⋆"Leave me alone, bitch, I wanna have fun
Got my hair tied up, phone on "Don't disturb""⋆｡𖦹°

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Thursday mornings felt like static.

Not in a bad way – just that low hum that buzzed under your skin, reminding you that you were alive and the world was moving whether you liked it or not.

I got to the shop a little later than usual, around seven, because I'd stayed up all night trying to finish a riff that had been clawing at my brain for days. My fingertips were still numb as I unlocked the shutter, yawning so hard my jaw cracked.

Dad was already inside, half-hidden behind a stack of invoices, muttering about wholesale costs and tax reports. I grabbed my coffee from the back and slumped behind the counter, propping my chin up with both hands. My eyes drifted to the HELP WANTED sign taped crookedly to the window. I'd made it yesterday after Dad announced, mid-ramble about restock orders, that he thought we needed another employee.

"Someone to help when you're at rehearsals or with late-night stock takes," he'd said.

I'd laughed. "Dad, no one wants to work in a dusty old record store except for me."

"We'll see," he'd replied, his voice quiet but certain.

So now, the bright orange sign sat glaring at the street like a desperate Tinder bio. HELP WANTED – CASHIER & STOCK – MUST LOVE MUSIC – NO ASSHOLES.

I added the last part in thick black Sharpie when Dad wasn't looking.

By noon, I was half-asleep on the counter, doodling riffs into my notebook while Aretha Franklin crooned softly through the speakers. The bell above the door jingled, but I didn't bother looking up.

"Sorry, we're not accepting walk-in guitar buyers today," I muttered, my voice muffled by my sleeve.

"Good thing I'm not here to buy your guitar today then."

My head snapped up so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. Standing there, framed by the glare of afternoon sun through the glass door, was Jay. Mr. Pretty Watch himself. Today he wore loose black trousers with pleats, a fitted cream knit shirt tucked neatly at his waist, and sleek black dress shoes. His hair was styled back, revealing sharp cheekbones and a faint golden tan that somehow made him look both expensive and effortless.

He glanced down at the orange sign taped to the window and raised an eyebrow. "No assholes, huh?"

I smirked, leaning back in my chair. "Sorry, can't let you in then."

He ignored my jab, stepping inside with quiet confidence. His cologne drifted towards me – warm sandalwood and faint citrus – and I cursed myself for noticing.

"What do you want?" I asked, twirling my pen between my fingers.

He pointed casually at the sign. "I'm here to apply."

I blinked. Once. Twice. Then I barked out a laugh so sudden that it startled a pigeon outside into flapping away.

"You?" I wheezed. "Working here? What, did Daddy cut your allowance this month?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, but the corner of his lips twitched. "Very funny. I'm serious."

I straightened, crossing my arms over my chest. "The sign says no assholes. Can you read or do you need me to sound it out for you?"

Before he could retort, Dad emerged from the back, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Who's this?" he asked, eyeing Jay curiously.

Jay turned to him immediately, bowing his head respectfully. "Hello, sir. I'm Jay. I saw your sign outside and wanted to apply for the job."

Dad smiled warmly, extending his hand. "Well, Jay, nice to meet you. I'm Minsoo. Do you have any retail experience?"

I snorted so loudly Jay shot me a glare.

He cleared his throat, ignoring me completely. "I worked part-time at a café during high school. I also volunteered at a local community music program teaching guitar to kids."

Dad's eyes lit up. "You play guitar?"

Jay nodded once. "Since I was eight."

I rolled my eyes so far back into my head I thought I'd see my own brain. Oh, of course he plays guitar too. Let me guess, custom Gibson at home with his name engraved in diamonds?

"That's great," Dad said brightly. "We could use someone who knows instruments for customers looking for recommendations."

"Dad," I cut in sharply, "maybe we should wait. You know... interview other candidates? Like people who actually need the job? He probably hasn't worked a day in his life."

Jay turned to me, expression infuriatingly calm. "You don't know anything about me."

"Don't need to," I shot back. "I can smell spoiled rich boy from a mile away."

His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned back to Dad with that polite, practiced smile. The kind rich kids gave to their parents' friends to secure summer internships and fake approval.

"I'd be honoured to work here, sir," he said quietly. "Music is... important to me."

Dad looked between us, sensing the tension but ignoring it with his usual weary patience. "I like him," he declared, patting Jay on the shoulder. "You can start tomorrow."

My mouth fell open. "Wait, what? Dad – seriously? We don't even know him."

Dad raised an eyebrow at me. "And? He seems respectful. Plays guitar. Loves music. That's enough."

"That's not enough," I protested. "He probably thinks vinyl is a luxury furniture brand."

Jay smirked at me, tilting his head slightly. "Actually, vinyl is a polymer made of polyvinyl chloride, invented in 1872 by Eugen Baumann. But sure."

I scowled at him so fiercely he laughed under his breath. Dad gave my ponytail a gentle tug as he passed by.

"Be nice to your new coworker, Byeol. You'll train him tomorrow."

Jay's eyes widened slightly, flicking to mine. I forced my mouth into a plastic smile, baring my teeth.

"Welcome to hell," I whispered sweetly.

He grinned, all white teeth and unbothered confidence. "Looking forward to it."

Dad disappeared into the storage room, humming a Bruce Springsteen song under his breath. Jay turned to leave, pausing by the door to look back at me. His gaze dropped briefly to the guitar pick necklace resting against my collarbone before meeting my eyes again.

"See you tomorrow, boss."

The bell jingled softly as he stepped out, the door swinging closed behind him. I let out a strangled groan and slammed my forehead onto the counter.

"Why me," I muttered into the cool wood. "Why. Me."

Outside, the world carried on, bright and indifferent, but inside I felt my blood thrumming with irritated adrenaline. My peace was officially over.

And tomorrow, my static little world was about to get very, very loud.

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A/N: sillybillys i really do not like think song but i figured i had to make a compromise in order for the song to match the chapter