Lost in the Stereo

The next day at work, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the monstrous RV was pulling up outside the store, the people in that thing must be some major tourists to be coming here; we don’t get very many customers here anymore. I went back to my magazine, if anyone needed anything, they’d come to the counter and ask. A few minutes later I heard the door ding as it opened. I looked up to see the big haired, skinny stranger walking in accompanied by three others, one that was very similar to himself but with a brunette tone to his hair, another who looked somewhat like the other two but not so anorexic looking with a lighter blonde tone to his hair than the first one, and the last one, who didn’t have very much hair at all that was a brunette tone too, and was a decent size. I almost didn’t recognize the stranger because he, like his friends was wearing retro sunglasses and a hoodie, with the hood pulled up over his head. The two that didn’t look as much like the first two were quiet and followed the anorexic twins, the stranger looked around quietly not saying anything, while his partner chattered away spastically, not seeming to care if anyone was listening or not. He just wanted to talk. I awaited the request for help finding some outdated album, or my personal favorite, an album we don’t have. The stranger, seeming to be the leader of the group finally walked up to the counter where I was residing and asked for assistance finding an album under the name of ‘Cheshire Cat’ by a band called Blink 182. Before I could say anything the brunette anorexic looked at the blonde anorexic (Stranger) and said “Why do you need that album?” Stranger rolled his eyes and answered, “Because someone thought it would be a good idea to play Frisbee with it and break it. That was my favorite album.” He put an emphasis on the word ‘someone’ directing it towards his ADHD buddy. He just shrugged as if he hadn’t done anything wrong and didn’t understand why his friend was upset. I waited a few seconds before speaking, to make sure that the spaz wouldn’t have something else to say first. “I actually don’t know if we have that album, but I can check.” He gave me a pleading look. I walked back to the backroom and looked through the B section, I didn’t find the one he was looking for, and I knew it wasn’t there if it wasn’t where it belonged because being the OCD freak I am, I make sure everything is in it’s proper place. Considering we don’t have a lot of customers anymore, with iTunes now, and illegal downloading, I have plenty of time to organize. I walked back out and told him that we didn’t have it, his shoulders sank and he disappointedly asked where else he might be able to find it, I told him that no one else would have it if we didn’t, we carry everything from the oldies to the newest of the new, but something about this stranger intrigued me, so I told him that I would order it and let him know when it came in. He suddenly brightened up and gave me a phone number at which I could reach him. He looked at me and cocked his head, as if studying me. I looked at him blankly trying to pretend that I wasn’t a little freaked out by this. He broke his gaze and walked away, mumbling something to himself as he walked back to his vehicle.

A couple of days passed, and finally the album arrived at the shop. I dug up the phone number that he had left with me and called it. A deep voice answered, not like the voice of the stranger. “Um, hi. I’m looking for…” that’s when it hit me, I hadn’t caught his name. I heard a voice in the background on the other end. “Roberto, is that the record girl?” it asked. Roberto, the man on the other end quickly asked if I was from Steve’s Records, I answered yes and then he told me that he would be in to pick it up later that day. I waited around and finally the door opened, only I wasn’t expecting stranger, I was expecting ‘Roberto’. He strolled toward the counter wearing a similar outfit he had been wearing a couple days earlier, Black hoodie (with hood pulled over big, messy hair of his), retro sunglasses, and a pair of very white skinny jeans. He gave me that same weird look from last time. He studied my face for a second, and right before I could ask what he was doing, he spoke, “You really don’t know who I am. Do you?” I looked back at him and shook my head no. He looked shocked, as if I were supposed to recognize him like I would my own mother. He stared at me for a second like I would suddenly know which I didn’t. I spoke next, “Am I supposed to know who you are?” I asked, not realizing how harsh I sounded. He looked taken aback, “Well, I guess not, it’s just that I figured you would know who I am, considering you’re so obviously into music, and this is my hometown and all.” I shook my head again. He looked disgruntled, so next he removed his sunglasses and hood as if he were a vampire and the sunlight would suddenly sear him to a crisp. He looked around suspiciously, and then asked “What about now?” I once more shook my head and said “No.” He frowned, “Seriously?” I was starting to get a little offended by this, “Yes, seriously, you must not be anyone too great, because I have no idea who you are.” He laughed, I had expected him to get angry and say something back, but instead he just laughed. “It’s kind of nice that you don’t know who I am.” Now I wanted to know, I felt like everyone knew a secret that I didn’t. “Well who are you then?” I asked curiously. He smiled, “My name is Alex, Alex Gaskarth.” The name still didn’t sound familiar. He chuckled, “All Time Low, does that ring a bell?” That sounded kind of familiar, I think I had heard a girl at school mention them once or twice, but I didn’t usually pay a whole lot of attention to anyone else. I just shook my head though. “I’m in a band called All Time Low, I’m the vocals and rhythm guitarist, Alex Gaskarth, that guy that talks a lot is Jack Barakat, he’s the lead guitarist and backing vocals, and my best friend. Then there’s Zack Merrick, the bassist and back vocalist, then Rian Dawson, the drummer. Zack is really quiet he doesn’t say much, Rian is even quieter than Zack.” I nodded, taking in all this information. I then pulled the CD out and handed it to him, “Took some work but I got it, not very places carry that album anymore, because it’s so old.” He smiled at me, “Thanks, I really wanted this.” I smiled back, “You’re welcome, glad I could help the famous Alex Gaskarth.” I said jokingly. He laughed at my joke and then spoke again, “You know since you helped me and you’ve never heard us, I could give you a ticket to our show tomorrow night, we’re playing at Power Plant Live.” He offered. I smiled and agreed, he ran out to the RV to grab the ticket, that I then realized wasn’t an RV, it was tour bus. It all made sense now, well most of it anyway. He came back in and handed it to me and told me to enjoy.