You Got Me Going Crazy

*Izzy's P.O.V*

Walking down one of San Francisco’s many piers, a single thought kept rolling through my head. Why is it so hard for record stores to keep the right Bob Marley album stocked? I had tried four different stores in the San Francisco area that day and not one of them had the album I was looking for. Sure, there was plenty of Ziggy Marley and a few of Bob’s albums, but none of the stores had what I was looking for. I had spent so much time looking for the 1977 vinyl record of Exodus.

My butt found its way to a nearby bench and I took a sip of my Starbucks Iced Carmel Macchiato. Normally I would get the warmer version of the drink, but I needed something to cool me down.

I looked around, trying not to think about my musical predicament. Yep, I thought. Just like all of the other piers in this town. It was only early June and there were still too many tourists for my liking. I have lived here my entire life and they can’t make one of these things look just a little different? But then something caught my eye. On the far end of the pier, past the tourist traps, was a small neon sign that read Duval’s Records.

I fiddled with my eyebrow ring as I contemplated what I was to do. It was somewhere that I hadn’t ever looked before and it looked interesting. And there was always the option that they would have the album I needed. So my butt got off of that bench, my mouth took one last drink of my iced coffee, my hand threw it away in a trash can next to the bench, and my feet walked to Duval’s Records.

Duval’s was fairly empty, with the exception of three people in different areas of the store. Living Colour’s “Cult of Personality” was playing in the background and it was a bit darker than most other record stores. It seemed like my kind of place.

“Welcome to Duval’s Records,” said a man with dreads as he walked out of a back room with a large box in his hands. He set the box down next to a shelf and hopped over the counter. “I’m Damien, Duval’s cousin. If there is anything you need, just let me know.”

“Hey, Damien,” I said trying to be friendly. “How much Bob Marley do you have? I’m looking for a specific record.”

Damien smiled. “Well, Miss…”

“Izzy.”

“Well, Miss Izzy. We have quite a bit of him. Duval likes to boast that we have the most Bob Marley of any independent record store in San Francisco, so I’m pretty sure that we have what you’re looking for. You can go look over there,” he said as he pointed to a set of shelves where a guy with dark hair and a baseball cap was searching through the albums. “Everything is alphabetical by artist, then album, at least within a genre.”

I smiled at Damien and walked over to the spot that he had pointed to. I saw that Jimmy London was on the top of one stack and figured that it wasn’t far from London and Marley. I flipped past Jimmy London, Lord Creator, Lucky Dube, Mad Cobra, Mad Lion, and Budoy Marabiles, knowing that if it wasn’t in the Ms, I could try the Ws for the Wailers. When I got to Bob Marley, I held my breath and hoped it was there.

“Babylon by Bus, Confrontation, Confrontation, Confrontation, Confrontation, oh my God.” Sitting there, behind a live album and four copies of his posthumous record, was the record I had been looking for: Exodus.

The guy in the baseball cap looked over my shoulder at the record in my hand (it wasn't hard because he was a good six inches taller than me). “Are you going to buy that?” he asked. His voice was very familiar. “Because if you don’t, I’ll take it. I’ve been looking for that album for twenty minutes. My brother lost my other copy and I've been wanting to listen to Three Little Birds.”

I looked up into a pair of deep brown eyes that, just like the voice, seemed very familiar, but I just couldn’t place them. “Actually, I am going to buy it. I’ve been to four record stores today looking for this album. But there is another copy if you want it,” said handing the second copy to the guy.

He grinned from ear to ear. “Thanks. It’s good to have the CD, but it’s always better to the record of something.”

Alright, I know I have seen that smile somewhere, I thought as I walked up to the counter to see Damien.

“Hey there,” Damien said as he saw the two of us walk up to him. “Did you guys find what you were looking for?” He looked down at the things we had set down on the counter. “Ah, I didn’t know we had two copies of Exodus.”

“Not anymore,” the guy next to me said with a smirk.

Damien laughed. “Well, you guys have good taste. Who do you want me to ring up first?”

“I’ll go first,” I said.

“Ok then. That will be…” he punched some numbers into the register. “8 bucks even.” I reached into my pocket to pull out ten dollars and traded Damien two crumpled dollar bills for it. The guy did the same thing a few seconds later. I waited for him to pay so we could walk out together and I could figure out who this guy was.

“So, do you have a name?” he asked.

“Isabel Houston, but I would honestly prefer if you called me Izzy.”

“Alright, Izzy. I’m Joe, by the way.”