Daron's Guitar Chronicles Volume 12

954 When Doves Cry

When Doves Cry

The next evening we went back to the same mall. Me, Remo, Courtney, Ziggy, and Claire. Janine had abdicated her vote into Court's hands. Ziggy and I had already bought something for her and no one argued with us–by which I mean Claire didn't object when we said we had. Court and I were put in charge of getting something for Ziggy, while Ziggy and Claire went off together to find something for Remo, and Remo... I lost track of what Remo was doing.

Court made a beeline for the record store. I caught up with her in the rock albums section. "You aren't seriously thinking of getting him something in here...?"

"No, silly, I just wanted to look through the new releases. It's so different here." She began dissecting the categorization. "You notice? No R&B bins. And no alternative rock bins."

"So no alternative rock?"

"I'm sure it's here, it's just not labeled." She flipped through the CD longboxes at the divider marked with the letter M. A familiar-looking album cover appeared under her fingertips. "That's interesting. They've got your instrumental album in rock M. And it's not rock."

"Not in the slightest, but maybe they figure people who are looking for me will look there?"

"I guess? And is it because of Marks or Moondog?" She looked at me. "Did you do that on purpose?"

"Do what?"

"Pick a stage name that starts with the same letter as our last name."

I had to stop and think for a minute. At various points in my career I've probably told contradicting stories about to try to make it sound better in the press. I told Court the truth. "Actually, the band name came first and I just liked the sound of it. That it happens to work as a last name is just a bonus."

We moved over to the "instrumental" section, but Court didn't appear to be looking hard for Tracks. "So, what did you have in mind for a gift for Ziggy?"

"Shit, I don't know."

She stopped and gave me a judgmental look. "Seriously? You haven't been thinking nonstop for the past month about what you want to get him? Because I guarantee you he has."

"No, I haven't, and you might be right, but I kind of feel like the best gift we can give each other is each other, you know?"

"That's very sweet and romantic but unless you're going to tie a bow around yourself and hide under the tree I don't think it's going to work. Come to think of it, that's more the kind of thing Ziggy would do."

I couldn't help but blush a little, because that was exactly the kind of thing Ziggy would do–if we were home alone, that is. I could vividly picture him trussed with red ribbon and wearing nothing else other than a red furry santa hat on his head. Jeezus. "Yeah, well. We've had a lot on our minds besides gifts lately."

"Okay, well, time to catch up. No ideas?"

I tried to think, but my mind kept thinking about the music they were playing in the store. Record stores always have music on, of course. For a place that had no section for R&B, the song they were playing was surprising-sounding. It sounded kind of like an urban dance remix, kind of like something you'd hear on a Sheila E or Paula Abdul album, except kind of thin and watered down, and the vocalist... well, if he sounded "urban" at all maybe it was Brooklyn Italian?

"What the hell is this?" I finally asked.

"That's a good question. And I can see we're going to get nowhere on our gift quest until you find out." She marched up to the clerk at the counter. He appeared to be about seventeen, in need of acne cream, and bored out of his mind. But maybe that's just the perpetual state of being seventeen. He had to push his blond bangs out of his eyes. Court leaned over the glass counter that held audio accessories. "Hey, can you tell me what this is you're playing?"