July 25th, 1983
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It's been about a week and I've finally decided to get the hell up and leave my house, I came to the conclusion that I didn't feel like moping around anymore. I even ended up cleaning my room!
I decided to go with Cliff to band practice, after all I missed the guys, and if they decide to bring up you know who, I think I should be fine.
Well, maybe.
No promises.
I sat on the old, cracked, red leather couch in the corner of James's basement. The wood lined walls, and the worn down grey carpet all stained with only god knows what.
Lars and James were upstairs getting beers, while Cliff and I remained in the basement. Cliff was tuning his bass and getting set up, while I started toying around with one of James's extra guitars. I used to use Dave's extra when I came over here, but now I guess James's will have to suffice.
The basement door swung open, as Lars and James stumbled down the stairs with beers in each hand. James handed one to Cliff and Lars handed one to me. After he gave me the beer, Lars smiled at me while trying to keep his beer in his mouth, then gave me a high five.
After a moment James slammed his beer bottle down on the counter.
"So, me an' Lars found a guy to replace Ass-hat." he said looking back and forth between me and Cliff, also taking a swig of his drink.
Cliff raised an eyebrow looking at me, then back at them. "Oh really now?" He said with a voice full of skepticism.
"Uh-huh," James tilted his head back and dumped the remaining contents of the beer bottle into his mouth. "This guy named Kirk, he was in that one band we saw that one time. What was it called again?" He questioned looking at Lars.
Lars looked around for a second, "Uhh, I think it was Exodus?"
"Yeah that's the one!" James exclaimed as he grabbed another beer. "He's really good Cliff, like really good."
I won't lie, it was kinda disappointing to me that they had replaced Dave already. I'm not really sure why it hurt but it did. I know the band had to continue moving forward, but it's like they just don't care. I mean they probably don't, but still.
I let out a deep, heavy sigh. "So when's he starting?" I questioned.
"Later this week," James stated enthusiastically. "He's a real sweet guy Hailey I think you'll like him." He smiled at me.
I shrugged, "I dunno, I guess we'll see."
I set down James's guitar, that I had seemingly forgot I was holding, then stood up from the couch.
"Where are you off to?" Lars questioned.
"I'm gonna stop by the record store, then head home." I smiled.
I gave them all a hug and said my goodbyes before I headed out the door.
-
After about 20 minutes or so of walking, I finally made it to the record store. My car was in the shop, so I've been having to walk places. Which not having my car, kinda hurt my soul. That thing was my baby, it was a black 1979 Trans-am. Some skank whore hit me last month and dented my door, so I ended up taking it into the shop so that it could be fixed.
Luckily for me it's July, and not November. So I'm not freezing my tits off while having to walk places.
I made my way in to the small, run down record store. I've been coming here since I was a kid. I love music with every fiber of my being, so anytime I had any sort of extra money, this is where I went. Plus the owner Jerry, absolutely loves me.
As I walked In I waved over to Jerry, who was behind the checkout counter. He was an older guy, probably in his 50s or 60s if i had to guess. Jerry smiled at me and I continued walking through the isles of records.
I finally made my way to the rock section, browsing through the different records, looking for one I didn't own. I ended up picking up Black Sabbaths Master of Reality, since I realized that, apparently I didn't have that one.
I remained crouched down, as I examined the vinyl, looking at the back cover, then back to the front. I smiled lightly to myself satisfied, and excited to go home and listen to it.
I quickly stood up, so that I could go check-out, but I was quickly met with someone else's head, and stumbled back down onto floor.
I pressed my hand against my forehead, in attempt of trying to suppress the throbbing pain growing across it.
"Are you okay?" A soft voice questioned.
I looked up from the floor, to lock eyes with the most gorgeous fucking man I've ever seen in my life. He had tanned skin, and gorgeous long, dark, curly hair, and the prettiest big brown eyes.
When I say he was gorgeous, I meant it with everything in me.
I quickly snapped out of my train of thought, refocusing on him. His brows were furrowed with concern.
"Yeah, I think so." I nervously laughed out, sending a slight smile his way.
He smiled back and me, and stood up holding his hand out to help me. I hesitated for a moment but grabbed his hand, as he pulled me off the ground.
"I'm so sorry, I seriously didn't see you." He said sincerely, rubbing the back of his head.
"It's okay I promise, I totally wasn't paying attention." I smiled at him trying to be reassuring.
He softly smiled at me once more, before looking at the record in my hands.
"You like sabbath?" An enthusiastic tone in his voice, his eyes almost glimmering as he looked back up to me, from the record.
"Oh, yeah I love sabbath! I realized I didn't have this one somehow, I have all of their other albums." I nervously smiled.
"That's really cool." He dorkily smiled at me.
He turned his glance to the clock, "Oh shit!" He exclaimed. "I have to go- It was nice meeting you!" He said as he darted out the door.
I smiled to myself, and walked over to Jerry so I could buy my record.
My entire walk home I couldn't seem to get this guy out of my mind. I didn't even know his name for fucks sake, let alone would I ever even see him again. Something about his soft brown eyes, and dark curly hair, was just so hard to get out of my mind. The sight of him just burned into my mind. He was so sweet too.
I finally reached home, and still without the thought of this guy leaving my mind. I sighed and unlocked the front door.
I walked up to my room, setting my new record along with my others. I picked up my guitar and sat down on my bed. I started messing around with some riffs that I could maybe show the guys later on. I did that a lot, they actually liked it too. They'd take some of my riff ideas and incorporate it into theirs.
After about an hour I started to grow tired, and the second I put my guitar back down, the thought of the record store guy crept into my mind again.
Who the fuck is this guy?