Both Lark and Imani’s stares slid to the shelf of “miracle” remedies. Lark crinkled her nose because she wasn’t sure if she would use any of the contents in those bottles for anything.
Her once-hopeful belief in the potions’ abilities was shattered when a customer returned to Bubble’s pissed off and demanding a refund because her love remedy hadn’t panned out. Lark had graciously pointed to the back of the bottle where it clearly read, Most likely will not work.
“Thanks, just what I’ve always dreamed of,” Imani answered with sarcasm.
“Hey! Those are hot sellers in this store.” Jimbo grinned with crooked, yellowing teeth—too much coffee and too many cigarettes.
“Hmm.” Imani didn’t argue.
Without another word, Jimbo took out an antique ceremonial smoking pipe from the box he was carrying and tossed them both a wave over his shoulder as he left the store.
Once the glass door shut, Imani quickly turned to face Lark. “So? Remove thy jacket.”
“Are you trying to seduce me?” Lark arched an eyebrow and batted her eyelashes.
“Only if thou wants to be seduced,” Imani teased.
“I’ll have to think about that, Shakespeare,” she said, unzipping the front of her jacket and exposing the electric blue and black full-body leotard. She pulled the Walkman from the jacket pocket and placed it on the counter, leaving the headphones around her neck.
Imani let out a low whistle. “It’s like Pat Benatar meets David Bowie in the 1970s. Vintage.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily call the seventies vintage. But I did find it for a dollar while sifting through the racks at the thrift store.” Lark finished removing her jacket, showing off the tight leotard and feeling slightly uncomfortable. It was like a second skin, and she was used to wearing baggier things.
“You paid a whole dollar for that?” Before Lark could say anything, Imani held up both hands in surrender and shouted, “Kidding! I knew you always had something under that bag of garbage you wear.”
Lark looked down at her A-cups. “I think we all have bodies, Imani.”
“Yeah, but who knew there was a ballerina body under there without you having to do the work?” Imani frantically motioned up and down the length of Lark’s thin frame.
Lark shrugged. She didn’t think she could do a lunge without getting a cramp in her thigh. If anyone had a good body it was Imani with all her curviness.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m completely honest to the 87th degree.” Imani paused. “Anyway, I have some goodies for you.”
Lark fixed her gaze on the trash bag stuffed with clothes. Most of Lark’s clothing came from secondhand stores or was passed down from Imani whose parents bought her new clothes all the time. Imani would wear them a few times and then move on. Lark got no such luxuries. Beth was too busy spending her money on alcohol and cigarettes until recently. But to be truthful, Lark liked searching through the vintage rack for old things in need of some love.
Rummaging through the open bag, Imani fished out a pair of yellow heels and a matching belt. “Here, you asked me to bring these.” She handed them to Lark. “But keep them, too. I never wear them.”
She stared down at the bright heels and belt, the color practically blinding her. Her normal black and gray tones suited her “somber” homelife—still, she couldn’t be totally morbid, so Lark always paired her style with red lipstick and matching nails.
Removing her headphones, she set them on the counter, so she could take off her boots. She slipped on the heels, then wrapped the belt around her narrow waist.
“So Emilia already left?” Lark asked, clipping the Walkman onto the side of the belt. She finished by sliding the headphones back around her neck.
“Yeah.” Imani let out a sigh.
Emilia was the German exchange student staying with Imani’s parents for the school year. Only Lark knew that Emilia and Imani were more than friends—Imani was still waiting to tell her parents.
“Enough of bringing up misery. She’ll be back before school starts, so go find your brooding prince. His van was already parked in the lot behind the store when I got here.” Imani grinned.
Lark bit her lower lip, hesitating. “Maybe I should put the jacket back on.”
Before Lark could touch her security blanket, Imani snatched it from the counter. “I don’t think so. Take your time.” Still smiling, she looked around the empty store. “I’ll take care of the booming business.”
“Fine.” Bubbles of dread and anticipation filled Lark’s chest as she pulled the headphones from her neck and placed them over her ears. She grabbed a twenty from her backpack before walking out of the store.
There were two reasons she went to the music store on Wednesdays. One, she’d buy something new. Her other reason—Auden Ellis.
As she opened the door to Music Revelations, she automatically found him at the back of the store, bent over a cassette rack. The minute she stepped over the threshold, he angled his head over his shoulder. Lark turned away, trying to hide the nervous tapping of her fingers against her Walkman. She didn’t always come in just because he worked there. When she’d started the job at Bubble’s, Auden hadn’t been employed at Music Revelations yet and she’d still visited every Wednesday to pick out something.
She probably should’ve been saving all her money for a car. And she was, with some of it, but music was her escape. If Lark had to ride a decaying bike until she hit forty, then so be it. The little money she did have left went toward helping with the groceries since her sister, Paloma, had chosen not to work over the summer.
When Lark had moved to La Porte halfway through tenth grade, Auden’s band shirts at school had drawn her attention. Unfortunately, a girlfriend had already been attached to his hip—until the beginning of Lark’s junior year. During their math class together, no talking had occurred, but something better—a musical connection through song lyrics.
Lark didn’t know why he exchanged the lyrics with her, but she knew why she did. It was a form of expression, where somehow, he got her and understood her like no one ever had.
She headed to the vinyl section, brushing her fingers against the different records on the way. Auden’s slicked-back, chestnut-brown head was hogging the cassette tape area, and her nerves were too on edge to walk in that direction.
Black records hung all over the walls, along with framed pictures of famous musicians. It took her a moment to find the “S” category—they must’ve moved things around. She flipped through vinyl after vinyl until she located Siouxsie and the Banshees. This one she had on cassette, but the LP just gave a completely different sound when she needed it.
Cradling Siouxsie to her chest, Lark glanced down at herself and had almost forgotten she wasn’t wearing her safety net of a jacket. Auden had been too much of a distraction when she’d come in. Lark turned her head to the store counter where he’d magically appeared. They might not have talked at school, but over the summer, there had been a couple times where they’d done more than talking. Memories of his hands on her body ran through her mind, and Lark’s heartbeat accelerated. She wished she’d talked afterward, but more than anything, she didn’t want to tarnish what had happened between them in class with the lyrics.