Save the Buckshot

I flopped my head down of the counter and shoved a stack of magazines to the side. It’d been so dead at the music store I worked in that day- hell, for the past week- I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to make it until closing. There I was, in a building full of guitars, equipment, all the gear I could ever dream of, practically the whole reason I’d even attempted to get a job here in the first fucking place, and I was bored damn near to tears.

“An hour twenty three minutes,” Greg said from his post at the window, where he’d been leaning, on the door jam counting the people not coming in.

“What?” I lifted my head and peered at him.

“An hour and twenty three minutes since someone came in,” he sighed, pushing away from the door and ambling over to the counter.

“You’re telling me,” I said straightening up and cracking my back.

“We should fucking be allowed to close if nobody’s even walked in the door for over an hour,” he sighed. “There’s a reason I don’t work at a mall store.”

I fought rolling my eyes. Greg was always going on about ‘mall stores’ and how much he hated their guts. We were real tight buddies, but I swear to god once he got hooked on something, he could not let go.

“I mean, if I wanted to be stuck to a nine to five operating schedule, I might as well be located next to a Gap, right?”

I rubbed my eyes and nodded. “Yep, and across from a Panda Express.”

He gave me a sideways glance, knowing I’d heard it a million times and fixed his attention back to the college kids walking down the street, not coming in. I sighed and was considering pointing out I was pretty sure that malls were open from nine to nine, not nine to five, and therefore his mall metaphor for a boring normal life just didn’t work if you really thought about it when he interrupted my thoughts.

“Fucking, just looking in the window isn’t making my time go by any faster,” he muttered to himself and the girl who was peering in the window.

“Holy fuck, I think I know that girl,” I said, leaning across the counter to get a better look.

“Well, maybe you should go talk her into coming in and buying shit,” he said, cocking his head to the side and giving me a sarcastic smile. I ignored him and squinted at the girl, who was either fascinated by the guitar in the window or was doing the exact same thing as I was. Jesus Christ, where did I know her from? I thought maybe I’d seen her at a show or something… that was always possible. I always saw lots of people at shows. We made eye contact through the window and she smiled at me, scuttling over to the door and opened it.

“Jason?”

Greg raised his eyebrows at me and I flipped him off under the counter.

“Yeah…?” I asked suspiciously, but then it hit me. I knew her because I’d caught her trying to sneak through a window into a bar called Dante’s I’d been playing at one night when I’d been out back smoking during a break. I couldn’t even fucking remember what band I’d been moonlighting with at the time, but it was definitely pretty close to the time after I’d moved to the bay area. Must have been ’95, give or take. Like I said, I’d stepped outside for a cigarette when I heard crashing around the corner. I’d stuck my head around the wall, thinking it was cats or something getting in the trash and saw this little blonde girl clamoring on to a pile of milk crates.

“Hey kid, what the fuck are you doing?” I called.
She hopped off the stack and faced me full on, obviously bracing herself for being hauled into the back of a cop car for breaking and entering, or something like that. She looked at me hard, and her face had softened into a smirk.

“You’re calling me’ kid’?” She laughed, putting both hands on her hips, clearly not threatened by me in the least. “What are you, nineteen?”

“Fuckin’, no.” I stubbed my cigarette out on the wall. “I’m twenty two.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said sarcastically, not impressed in the least.

“What does-“I started, but refocused back to the probably eighth grader trying to break into a bar. “Never mind. What are you doing here back here? shouldn’t you be in bed? You look like you’re about nine and a half. It’s not safe out here.”

“I’m seventeen,” she rolled her eyes and shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt. “Yes, I probably should be in bed and yes it’s not safe out here. Hence why I’m trying to get in there,” she motioned to the window. When I didn’t say anything, she’d shook her head and started back for the milk crates.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” I said.

“Well, then why don’t you help hoist me up?” she looked back over her shoulder at me before hopping onto the first stack of crates and trying to catch her balance on the lid of a dumpster.

“I really should be getting back,” I said, “See, I’m playing in there. We’ve only got a few minutes for a break, and I really can’t afford to waste any time.”

“Then just sneak me in with you,” she said yanking on the latch on the window. It popped open.

“Looks like you’ve got it all under control,” I laughed and watched as she wriggled her way up and through the window, disappearing through. As I turned to walk back into the back door stage entrance, I saw her stick her hand through the window and give me a thumbs up, signaling she’d gotten in. All clear. When I thought she was in for sure, she popped her head back out the window.

“You know,” she called. “Smoking’s bad for you.”

I was looking for her through the whole gig, but never saw her. I reckoned she’d gotten busted and hauled out pretty much right away, since she looked so young and all, and had forgotten about her, until I saw her again a week or so later. This time, it was at an all ages venue, so she was waiting in line like a normal person.

“Hey,” I said, figuring she wouldn’t recognize me and think some creepy old guy was hitting on her. “Going in the front door this time?”

She looked up and rolled her eyes at me. “Don’t you get to use the special side door when you’re in a band?”

“Oh,” I said, surprised that she remembered me. “Well, I’m not playing tonight. I’m just coming to see the show.”

“Uh huh,” she said.

“So what happened,” I said, leaning up against the wall. “I didn’t see you that night.”

“Well, I got in just fine, and snuck into the bathroom to wait out the situation,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “But truth be told, I was too scared to come out.”

“Ha!” I laughed. She glared at me, and looked away.

“Whatever, laugh all you want.”

“How the hell did you get out?” I chuckled. “Oh please, dear god, tell me you spent the night there.”

“No,” she scoffed. “Waited till the band was tearing down and snuck back the way I came.”

“Fuckin’, what was even the point of it then?” I ran my hand through
my hair and tried to not laugh at her.

“It’s complicated,” she crossed her arms across her chest. “But I got into this thing, and I can’t get out without a bunch of stuff crashing down on me.”

“Wait, are you serious? Like, you’re not running drugs or something are you?” I asked in a hushed voice. “Cause, seriously, like, that’s just stupid when you’re your age.”

“My age, huh? You’re what, nineteen? It’s essentially the same thing, so don’t even talk to me like that.”

“Twenty two,” I said. “I told you last time, I’m twenty two.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, that’s right. Five years is such a huge maturity gap.”

I started to say something else, but she cut me off. “And anyway, no. I’m not running drugs. That’s ridiculous.”

“Seriously, cause if anyone’s going to buy drugs from a girl who looks like she’s about twelve, they are just dumbasses asking for whatever weird statutory prison sentences they get,” I said shaking my head.

“What are you even talking about?” she squinted up at me, but didn’t let me answer. She motioned for me to come closer and continued in a whisper.

“I’m working on a project for a newspaper at San Jose State.”

I must have looked confused as fuck, because she shrugged again and waved her hands excitedly. “I know!”

“Wait, I thought you were like seventeen or something like that,” I said, definitely feeling as confused as I looked.

“I know,” she said again. “I’m not even enrolled at San Jose State. Or at least not yet. I sent in an application letter, but I haven’t heard back yet. Anyway, I sent a piece of writing to what I thought was the literature program, and apparently it wasn’t, because I got a call from the newspaper editor asking all this stuff, like if I wanted to do an article on this or that. I mean, I was just trying to bolster my application, not apply for the paper.”

“So, like, they thought you were a student or something?” I said, taking a pack of cigarettes out of my back pocket and offering one to her. She waved them away, shaking her head.

“I guess so. There was a mix up in the addresses for departments or whatever that the councilor gave me, and the editor thought it was a submission.”

“But you’re not even enrolled in the school,” I said, taking a drag, and exhaling the smoke over her head.

“I know!” she seemed very excited by this.

“So, I take it you didn’t just call up the college people and be like, ‘hey y’all guess what? I’m not a student, so I can’t like, fucking write for your paper or whatever’...”

“Uh, yeah,” she said, looking up at me like I had just said the single fucking stupidest thing ever. “No. I mean, I guess I should’ve, but I just ran with it. They’ve yet to find out, and so here I am.”

“Breaking into bars through back windows.”

“Well, that time. I’m supposed to be reviewing local music stuff,” she said, rooting in her bag and pulling out a notebook.

“Like bands,” I offered, and she half nodded.

“Like that. Or venues. Or whatever. I’m just supposed to do something original, I guess. Like a new ‘spin’ on the typical local review.” She even airquoted the word spin.
“How about reviewing a place’s break-in-ability?” I laughed.

She gave me a half hearted pity laugh and shook her head.

“I’m Jason, by the way,” I said. I don’t even fucking know why I told her that.

“Jason,” she nodded. “Well, since you’re of age and all, I guess that’s a good thing to know. My source on the inside.”

I laughed. This girl was ridiculous. The doors to the venue opened and we were moved along inside. She craned her neck and surveyed the inside of the building. I was about to ask her if she had any friends she was meeting, or what she was planning on, but she seemed to find what she was looking for. Opening her notebook, she settled on a page and gave me a grinny face.

“Janna,” she said before scampering off to the other side of the room. “I’m Janna.”

When I saw her at the music store, it was so unreal. I’d see her around at gigs here and there, but after I went back to Little Rock for about nine months in ‘96, I’d forgotten about her.

“Hey,” I said giving her a wave and meeting her at the door. “Jesus christ, how’ve you been?”

“Good, good,” she said, smiling and shifting her bag from arm to the other. She looked the same. Not exactly, I guess, like she’d aged and all, but not a hell of a lot.

“Broken into any buildings lately,” I said, hoping she’d remember and that I didn’t wind up looking crazy.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Not since you caught me!”

Greg dropped a stack of magazines on the counter loudly and gave me an impatient look. I looked back at him and turned to Janna. “Let’s go outside.”

She let me usher her outside and we stood up against the wall, out of the view of the window.

“Seriously, it’s so weird to see you.” I said, leaning on the wall and taking out a cigarette.

“I know,” she shrugged. I offered her one, but she waved it away. “Not a smoker.”

“Yeah,” I said suddenly feeling like a creep. “I kind of remember that.” I don’t know if I felt weird about offering her a cigarette when I knew she didn’t smoke, or the fact that I remembered that from fucking five or six years ago.

She smiled at me. “Sometimes I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who doesn’t.”

“Good to know DARE worked for one person,” I said. “At least the funding’s going to a good place.”

She laughed and shook her head. We were quiet for a second, and I started to get nervous.

“So,” I said, trying to fill the gap. “When you’re not refusing cigarettes, what are you doing these days? Editing some school newspaper somewhere?”

“God, no,” she said. “I’m in school, but no where near the journalism department.”

“Did you ever get into that one school?” I asked, taking a drag and doing my best to blow the smoke out of her way.

“Yeah, but I ended up going to UC Santa Cruz instead. I’m originally from Watsonville, so it was closer and all.”

“Well, what the fuck happened to the paper thing?”

“When I didn’t end up going to the school, I had to tell,” she held up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun that was reflecting off the yogurt place across the street’s windows. “It was awkward to say the least.”

“Christ, I can only imagine,” I said wrinkling my nose at the thought.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It could’ve been a lot worse, but, when you’re seventeen, eighteen, everything’s the worst it could be.”

I laughed. “Fuckin’, isn’t that the truth.”

She nodded.
“Well, UC Santa Cruz is a good school,” I said. Fuck if I knew if that was the truth. I didn’t really know much about the south bay except that there was an aquarium down there and that Steinbeck seemed to really like it.

“I actually am graduating next May,” she said. “I start up grad school that August.”

“No shit!” I said. “That’s fucking crazy. Like, I-don’t-even-know-what-that-means crazy.”

“Yep,” she nodded. “I’m looking at, like, five more years of school.”

“See,” I chuckled. “I barely made it out of high school, let alone into any fancy higher learnin’ institution, so that is just blowing my mind.”

“You never went to college?” she asked, looking genuinely stunned.

“Are you kidding me?” I jerked my thumb back at the music store behind us. “I fucking work here!”

“Oh, well,” she looked embarrassed. “I thought maybe you were putting yourself through school or something.”

“Nah,” I smiled at her. “Seriously, I’m putting myself through life.”

She laughed, covering her mouth. Like she couldn’t tell if I was joking or not.

“I mean, I started working here because, let’s face it, being in a band may make you look cool and all, but landlords generally don’t except cool as a form of rent.”

This time she laughed out loud. “No, I don’t expect they do.”

“It’s just like, my grown up job during the day so I can still dick around and pretend I’m a teenager at night.”

“So, you’re still in a band,” she said, cocking her head to the side. I nodded.

“Yeah, we’re actually going to be going on tour soon, like in the summer. That guy who was in the store with me, Greg, he’s in it too. So’s his brother and another guy.”

“And the store owner’s okay with you two taking off for that time?” She dropped her bag at her feet and redid her ponytail.

“Well…” I trailed off. “That’s the thing. We’ve still got to ask, and I really don’t think he’ll be too pleased. I mean, hell, half the gigs are already booked and whatnot, so we’re going regardless.”

“There’s always another music store to work in,” she offered.

“Right,” I laughed. “Plus, my buddy and I started up a record label a couple years back, and when I’m not here or playing, I’m doing shit there.”

“Really?” she looked surprised. Suddenly, I felt really self conscious. Why would she fucking want to know any of this shit about me? I don’t ever brag, and it was starting to feel like that’s exactly what I was doing. I stuffed my fists into my jacket pockets.

“Uh, yeah, it’s no big deal, really. Like, stuffing envelopes, answering phones, that shit.”
“Secretarial stuff,” she smiled, and I was pretty sure she was teasing me.

“Just call me Gal Friday,” I said. There was a tapping behind us, and I turned to see Greg holding a piece of paper with ‘getting paid to pick up girls again?’ written on it up between the show fliers that covered the window. Janna laughed, and I could feel my ears getting hot and my face turning red. “I’m being paged, I see.”

“Well, it was really good to see you again,” she said. “I mean, I’m pretty busy, and it sounds like you are too, but if you don’t mind me bringing textbooks, we should get together for coffee or something.”

“Uh, yeah, we should do that,” I said just as Greg banged on the window. “Sorry.”

She smiled and shook her head.
“Well, I know where to find you,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said, sidling over to the door. “I’m always here.”

“I’m pretty sure I only allowed you to go outside on the condition that you bring in someone to buy something,” Greg said as I opened the door and snuck back inside
.
“Aw, fuck you, man,” I said, grabbing a stool from over in the guitar area and hauling it over to the counter. I adjusted it’s height and plopped down on it.

“So, who was that?”

“I don’t know, man,” I said, “I knew her a long time ago, before I had to go back to Little Rock.”

He eyed me suspiciously.
“I don’t know.”