Just What I Needed

Just What I Needed (21)

What the hell was wrong with him? She thought frustratedly, marching down the street. What actually gave him the right to demand that she tell him all her secrets? Honestly. And why in the hell was she even letting him have a prevailing moment in her mind?

Because it was obvious he did, because Keely could just imagine what her cartoon version of herself would look like, her hair standing on end and smoke blowing out of her ears. Taking an angry gulp of scalding drink, Keely picked up her pace until it reached a furious jolting speed that she knew could only end with her eating pavement. But at the moment, Keely's mind was filled with a haze of white noise caused by absolute hate.

But, like the day before, when Keely pushed open the 'AC Music' door to the tingling sound of a gargling bell, her anger faded at the same speed as the tinkling sound. To Keely this would be the heaven she wanted, but she doubted even the real heaven would sound this good.

Smiling, Keely saw the old man sorting through records with light shining behind him that was softened by the window papered with concert posters.

"Hey," she said walking to the counter.

He didn't look up, but the sides of his mouth twitched, proving that he had either seen her walking towards him of recognized the melodic sound of her voice. In any case, he said, "So what's your verdict on Something To Believe In?" If she needed anymore proof that he knew it was her, there was her evidence.

"I guess you're the music master," Keely sighed but it was completely contrary to the grin that graced her face.

"Ah... well, you're still eighteen," he said wisely. But the wise glint in his eye became shrewd, almost calculating. "Would you sort through these albums? I'll pay you."

Amused, Keely said, "I'll do it for a free copy of the new Audioslave CD."

"It's a deal," he shook her hand professionally seeming to know that Keely was holding back laughter. "But I'll be nice and even raise you one better, I have a vinyl copy."

"Even better." Being in the music store was keeping a smile on her face. "So how do you want me to sort them?"

"First put them into genre, alternative, hard rock, classical rock, dance, indie, etc. After that put them into alphabetical order before you put them on the shelves."

Though Keely couldn't see it, a smile appeared on the man's weathered face. Because when she walked around the counter, Keely's mouth dropped unbecomingly open as she saw the amount of boxes stacked behind the counter.

It took him a few seconds to actually speak, seeming to find the look of incredulity that stretched across Keely's face to be more than a little amusing. "Don't worry," he assured her. "I got someone to help you, he's just getting the last two boxes."

Trying to feel and look confident as she looked over the enormous job in front of her. Feeling sure that she would be able to finish the sorting of the records - even with a helper - in the next century wasn't the thing she was feeling most confident about. But Keely tightened her jaw determinedly and would have folded up her sleeves if she'd had any. "Great," she smiled.

Kneeling down, Keely immediately had an electronic pile with Cat Power and a grunge with Nirvana. How many boxes were there in this corner?

During her musing, Keely heard the old man shout, "You stealing my records, boy?"

Smiling to herself because of the serious note in his voice since she knew he was joking, Keely suddenly realized she had no idea what the old man's name was. She'd never thought to find out.

Now there was another voice saying, in a joking tone, "I've got your boxes old man. I left the crap music until last, do you think I'd run away with this music?"