Flip Side by Richard Prosch

Author:Richard Prosch
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lohman Hills Creative LLC

Eleven

I remembered to turn on the signs—and turn them around—the next morning, and by the time Marti came in, Spalding’s Groove had sixty new dollars in the cash register after an early morning crate digger came in and bought two of the new 180 gram Black Sabbath pressings.

“The better part of a C-note for two records that would’ve cost you less than ten when they were new,” I said.

Just inside the window, behind the glass display-case counter, I reclined in my comfy office chair.

“If I’d come home with those two records, my parents would’ve said they had cost me my soul,” Marti said. “Then it would’ve cost me the rest of my high school career without an allowance. If they’d let me live in the same house with them.”

“You’ve never had Sharon Gardner for a class, right?”

Marti had the vacuum cleaner out, was unwinding the cord from the back.

We were spinning the Duke over the store speakers. Ellington At Newport.

She plugged the cord in, walked around a crate full of discount sides, and plopped down in the big, orange Ottoman chair next to the turntable.

“No, Dan. I’ve never been in Sharon Gardner’s class.”

“Aren’t you going to finish sweeping?”

She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Later.”

“Something on your mind?”

“Maybe.”

Uh-oh.

With a quick swivel of the chair, I swung my legs down and let them thump against the floor. I leaned forward. “What is it?”

“I wondered if you had any more questions about Sharon Gardner. Or any more observations to share. What she was wearing yesterday? Some clever turn of phrase she shared? How the sunlight looked, pouring like streams of gold through her scarlet tresses?”

“You’re jealous,” I said.

“Am not,” Marti said. “And I hate it when you give me that wide-eyed incredulous look.”

“If you’re not jealous, why are you mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re not doing the sweeping.”

“My job description doesn’t cover cleaning up.”

“It sure as hell does,” I said with a grin. I tapped the top of the counter. “I can’t believe you’re jealous.”

“Whenever you talk about this job, you talk about Sharon. You never talk about Dr. Cooper. Always Sharon.”

“She’s a beautiful woman.”

“Oh, I agree,” Marti said. “I can’t argue with you there.”

“But mysterious.”

She looked the other way and it started to sink in that she was more miffed than I’d thought. I decided to change the subject.

“I’ve got a chance to buy a classic rock collection from a guy out of state. He’s got close to a thousand records.”

“Oh?”

“Might be a good deal. Might not. He sent a few photos over by phone and they look okay,” I said. “Maybe we could drive up next weekend and take a look? We could shop for a van while we’re there.”

Marti wanted me to trade the Dodge van for something more dependable. She liked the Ford Transit panel vans.

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”

Had I stepped in it or what?

“Marti, hey,” I said, reaching out to her. When she turned there were tears in her eyes.

“Just what the hell are we doing?” she said.

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