Vision

“I’m sorry to tell you this but Emily you’re fired,” I said to the blonde girl in front of me.

“Why?” she asked, separating herself from her boyfriend. Ever since Emily was employed her boyfriend would show up and they would make out on the counter. They honestly didn’t even have to decency to make out in the back of the store. She’d only been working at Off Beat for a little under two weeks. The girl before Emily forcefully tried to get me to do her so I had to get rid of her.

“Besides the fact that you do no work, you bring in your boy toy, man thing, I honestly don’t know what to call him and just make out over the store counter. Honestly you both should have just stayed home. I can’t have this in my shop,” I said, trying not to sound angry.

Emily scowled at me. “Fine! I guess you can’t handle a fine worker like me! Come on Robbie, we’re leaving!” she yelled, throwing her name tag at me. She then dragged her boyfriend by the wrist and stormed out of the shop.

When the bell stopped ringing when the door shut, I took a sigh of relief. Ever since I opened Off Beat Records, five years ago, I’d always had trouble with my employees except my first. But that’s because my first employee was my best friend Adam. He left Off Beat after he took a job at an animal shelter for cats. We had a lot of those running stray in the city. Yet ever since Adam, all I’ve had was trouble with the shop employees.

It couldn’t have been that hard to just watch the store or stock the shelves or do inventory, right? I went behind the counter and pulled out my infamous Help Wanted sign. Hopefully this time it would attract an employee that would actually work. Taping it to the shop window, I looked at two guys walking down the street. One was a frequent customer here at the store. I’d come to know him as Ryland Blackington. He was a real sweet dude, always digging through the super old records I kept in the back of the store. He’d even come to a few of the in-store gigs I put on for bands in the area and bands wishing to do small venues.

I didn’t know who his friend was. He was a very tall, taller than me, man with black curls. He was in tight jeans, and a white shirt topped with a purple hoodie. He had toasted skin, so I guessed him to be of Latin decent. He must be in town for something.

I went back to fixing things around the shop as the two walked by, not even noticing the sign. I guessed it was worth a try. Maybe they would take the same route back and then notice the sign. Ryland could even recommend me someone.

I started my fixing with disinfecting the shop counter. Who knew what could be lurking there after Emily and her boyfriend practically fucking on my counter? No one really just showed up to the shop after five. I closed the place at six thirty anyway. My shop wasn’t like those large, cd stores that stay open late in the city. Also I had a home to get too, even if I lived by my lonesome ever since I moved to New York from Illinois.

Five years of owning a shop and having a band was all I had to my name. I, William Beckett, led a very lonely life at home. Of course I’d always wanted someone to share my home life with a special someone, but no one ever really came along. Sure I’ve had people throw themselves at me, but I just couldn’t handle it. Also most times it was women throwing themselves at me. They weren’t what I liked.

Not to lie, women were just never something I found interest in. They just didn’t do it for me. I liked men. I’d never been with a man intimately, but back in high school I had a few relationships with some. It wasn’t so bad. It felt nice to not have to take the initiative like most men do in straight relationships. I was too shy to even look at some guys.

I liked my men to be tall and strong. Usually they were like me, reserved in some areas and calm thinkers. I couldn’t even imagine being with a man that was outgoing and bold. It just wouldn’t mesh with my laidback ways. At least I didn’t think so. I never dated a man who was crazy and bold.

My eyes glanced at the clock and I saw it was approaching a quarter after six. I’d been tidying up Off Beat and putting things back in their place. All I had left to do was finish off another box and close up shop. I bent myself over pushing back my long, brown hair and started sorting the records in the box.

Ever get that feeling that you know you’re being looked at by someone? That’s what I was feeling then after a few minutes of sorting. I knew I couldn’t get up from sorting to see who was looking and knowing my luck I betted that no one was even there. So I just continued to sort.

After I felt the eyes on me go away did I choose to stand up straight. I picked up the box and quickly carried it to the back. I then walked back to the front, grabbing my keys. I cut off the lights and said my goodnights to Off Beat. Locking up my home away from home I looked in the direction Ryland and his friend came when I saw them. They were walking their way back now. I frowned. I wish I had a friend to walk with just after a casual day at work. I sighed and then began to walk home.

That night I went to bed hoping that tomorrow someone normal would walk into the shop inquiring about the job opening. I hated working alone.

Seven a.m. and I was unlocking the door to Off Beat. I liked to open the store early because it meant I could close earlier if needed. Sipping my morning coffee, I took a seat behind the register in hopes that today would bring someone into Off Beat looking for a job. I’d even turned the sound system in the store on. I usually did in the morning, but as the date went on I would turn it off. The silence was nice, but at that moment I was too busy focusing on The Cure filling the store.

Nine a.m. and I was in the back of the store carrying a box of records to the front. They were to be put in the clearance section of the store. I had my back turned as I placed the box down, when the bell on the door sounded signaling someone had walked in.

“Hola pretty lady,” I heard a happy voice say in my direction. “You wouldn’t happen to be the owner of this place?”

I stood up. “I would be, but I’m no lady,” I said, turning around to face the man who was walking with Ryland yesterday. Today his outfit was even brighter than previous. His jeans were now purple and his shirt was yellow. Yet he still had on that purple hoodie.

“Oh sorry, man. You just um kinda looked like a girl from behind,” he said in apology.

I raised my hand as if to say, ‘It’s fine.’ “Don’t worry; I’m kind of used to it. What can I help you with?”

“Well, I just moved in with my buddy Ryland—”

“Blackington, right? He’s a frequent customer of mine,” I said, cutting him off.

“Yeah, Ryland and I couldn’t help but see the sign in the window. I need a job,” he said.

“Well have your worked in a store in the past?” I questioned. I wasn’t one to take résumés so I just asked questions and hoped for honest answers.

The man blushed. “Well no, but if it counts I used to be a somewhat successful band until that kind of fell apart. That’s kind of been my only job, doing music,” he spoke.

My hand gripped onto my hip. “Really? What was the band? Maybe I’ve heard of you before.”

“We were called Midtown and yeah I don’t really expect you to know about us.”

A light went off in my head. I knew exactly what he was talking about. I enjoyed his band’s music. “I know exactly who you’re talking about. You were that really promising band from Jersey. I used to go to your shows back when I lived in Illinois!”

He smiled. “Yeah, we did play a couple shows out in Chicago. So I guess you’re not from New York then?”

I nodded. “Born and raised in Illinois. Moved here five years ago when I opened the store,” I answered.

“Born in Uruguay and raised in Queens and New Jersey,” he spoke.

“Hmm well you’ve never worked a store before, but you’ve worked in music and good music so that has to count for something,” I said, getting back on topic. “I guess I could train you. It’s not hard work, managing this place since I’m always around. I guess you could have the job.”

“Really? Oh wow! Thank you! When do I start?” he asked.

“You can start right now. Store’s open every day, weekdays we’re open from seven to six-thirty, and weekends we’re open from nine to five-thirty. That is unless we have an in-store show. Then we stay open until the crowd goes, but it doesn’t happen often,” I spoke. I gestured him to follow me and I led him to the counter. I tossed him his nametag. “Disregard the name on it for now. I’ll just get my label machine from the back and we can put your name on it.”

“Holy shit, you have no idea how awesome this is right now,” he said. “Um boss?” he asked.

“Yes, employee?” I asked back.

“Do you have a name or do you just go by boss?” he asked.

“The name’s William Eugene Beckett Junior, but you can call me Bill or Will, or William. Whatever suits your fancy,” I said. “And your name employee?”

“Gabriel Eduardo Saporta, pero tu puedes llamar me Gabe,” he spoke in Spanish.

I stood there confused. I didn’t really understand Spanish at all. I bit my lip nervously. This would be good for business having a bilingual employee, but I had a thing about languages. I found them to be quite attractive. “Umm… I don’t k-know what you said,” I said, revealing my stutter. I had worked so hard to hide it through the years since it’s absolutely embarrassing.

He chuckled and leaned himself against the counter. It matched it yellow shirt. “I said my name is Gabriel Eduardo Saporta, but you can call me Gabe,” he riddled off.

I nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know Spanish so I k-kinda get um nervous when I don’t understand p-people,” I said blushing. My damn stutter was coming out at the worst of times. It loved to do that.

“You should really learn the language. It’s pretty beautiful, especially when talking to important people,” he said, toying with the nametag in his hand. “So about that label machine,” he hinted.

I shook out of the trance I was in and went to the back to retrieve it. Damn him for knowing Spanish. Being a sucker for languages and accents things could not be good, but Gabe seemed to be a promising employee. I walked back to see Gabe sitting on the stool behind the register fiddling with his name tag.

“Got the label machine,” I said, getting Gabe’s attention and holding up the gun. “Give me your name tag.” Gabe happily gave it to me. I typed his name into the machine and aimed at the tag. A pull of the trigger later it had his name. I handed it back to him.

“Gracias Guillermo,” he smiled.

I downright could have melted, fucking languages. “W-what did you call me?” I asked.

“Guillermo, it means William in Spanish,” he told me. “I hope that’s okay with you, calling you Guillermo.”

“It’s fine. I like it. So um to get you started I need a few boxes of records in the back to be sorted by size and then in alphabetical order,” I spoke, giving him his first task.

“Sure thing, Guillermo!” Gabe then took off to the back.

I leaned against the counter and sighed. Why was Spanish so fucking pretty?