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Keeping my promise to June was nowhere near as easy as I’d hoped.
And considering I’d known it would be difficult said a lot.
I jogged my way to Ivey’s every morning before six-thirty, opening up and getting the store ready for the day. I ran through stock take, deliveries, and juggling Hayden’s incessant investors as thoroughly as possible before taking a cab to June’s store during lunch.
June’s store was my guilty pleasure; the one selfish indulgence I allowed myself if I was ever struggling.
I waited for June to finish up with a client, walking through the display room in awe. The guitar strings strummed softly under my fingers, the corded metal cool under my touch. Familiar. Of course, none of the guitars on the wall resembled the one I had at home.
My guitar was old, the painted rose artwork smoothed out and worn away under years of playing. I’d lost count of how many strings I snapped, how many picks I’d lost to the abyss of the sound hole.
By the rattle I heard any time I lifted the guitar, I could guess it was a lot.
I lifted one of the acoustic guitars off its stand and took a seat on the stool beside it, nestling the body of the instrument between my thigh and shoulder. It slid into place like a jigsaw piece, like an extension of myself that helped the other pieces stay together.
I lost myself to the soft sounds of the guitar, mindlessly tuning it to perfection thanks to years of frustration and practice.
With one hand wrapped around the fretboard and the other dancing across the strings, a quiet, familiar melody filled the trembling silence inside me.
“You sound a little rusty.”
I opened my eyes, not even realizing I’d closed them in the first place, and looked up at June.
Her thick, curly hair sat in two neat Dutch braids atop her head, her round-framed glasses perched on her nose.
“I’m doing great, how are you today, June?”
And though I was kidding, she winced.
“Sorry, time and place,” she said through a cringe.
I set the guitar back on its stand. “It’s fine,” I told her, getting to my feet to hug her. “I haven’t had much time to practice lately.”
She squeezed me tight before letting go, her eyes narrow with worry. “You just offered to work here so you could goof off and play guitar, didn’t you?” she teased, seeing the exhaustion in my eyes.
I smiled. “What? No,” I said defiantly. “I also did it for the piano and the drums.”
“You’re a menace,” June giggled. “Let’s get you settled, yeah?”
“You sure you’re okay to close up alone tonight?”
“Yes, for the hundredth time, Vee,” I groaned, struggling to hide my exhaustion from her. “Now go watch your kids’ recital!”
“You’re my star,” she said, blowing me a kiss and rushing off.
I watched her go, waving each time she turned back to make sure I hadn’t collapsed.
“Okay, Frankie,” I said to myself in the echoing silence of the empty store. “Just two hours, you can do this.”
I cashed out the few registers, figuring that anyone coming to the store after seven at night would surely use a card. Or maybe it was my wishful thinking doing the heavy lifting.
Unfortunately, that task took less than ten minutes, and soon I was left with absolutely nothing to do. And over an hour and fifty minutes left on the clock. I groaned, resting my head in the cradle of my arms. My eyes burned with fatigue and I squeezed them shut, trying to fight off the burn after keeping them open for so long.
“Frankie?”
I jumped a little at the sound of someone very close to me, lifting my head to find Hayden watching me closely.
“What are you still doing here?” she asked, brow furrowed. “It’s after ten.”
