Phoenix Chapter Ten: ShoppingA Chapter by SweetNutmegShoppingChapter Ten: Shopping
Rogan thought things over the next day. It was Friday and a lot of people would be getting their stuff out of hock, but there should still be plenty of selection. Lou's Pawn was the biggest pawn shop in the area. After work, he caught the bus and headed over to the less reputable end of downtown Shermer. The part of him tuned in to Allison noted that it was nowhere near the Artist's Guild, where he had run into her before. Rogan nodded to the armed security guard and entered. Lou's was a vast showroom, piled with valuables of all kinds. He was met by a large hunting equipment display and veered away from the rifles and handguns, towards jewelry. Beyond that was the musical instrument section. He zeroed in on the line of amps. He was cruising the aisle when an employee approached. He was a large guy wearing an inexpertly tied bow tie, with a bushy red beard. “You need some help, man?” the man asked. “We've got some new guitars today, a really nice Washburn, a couple of Fenders.” “Thanks, just looking,” Rogan lied. This was the same guy who tried to sell him a bass amp for his guitar. He could do without that kind of help. He inspected the row of amps, checking for trademarks and models. As he was getting ready to give up, he saw the Blackstar combo. It was labeled as 60 watts, with one 12 inch speaker. They got that right at least. It was a bit battered, but appearance wasn't his priority here. Having enough power was. He inspected more closely, found the model number and looked it up on his phone. It had a lot of features. The many dials on top told him what he needed to know about performance capabilities. This was definitely a gig-worthy piece of equipment. He looked at the price tag. $375. He checked his phone again. They obviously didn't know what they had here. That was an insanely low price. He tried picking it up. Heavy. He'd need some help getting this home. Now he just had to try it out. He caught the salesman's eye and said, “I'd like to play this one.” After a thorough test drive, Rogan decided to get it. "Can I pay for this today and pick it up tomorrow?" “Sure, no problem,” said the salesman. He got out a red pen and wrote SOLD over the price listed on the tag. It was close to $400 with tax. That wiped out his savings account. He would just cross his fingers and hope nothing bad happened until he refilled his savings account. It wouldn’t take long, the rent on his room was low and they paid well at Midas. Rogan walked out of Lou's, stuffing his receipt in his wallet. He looked up and saw the number three bus going by and there was Allison Reynolds, looking out the window. He raised a hand to wave. He saw her recognize him and smile, then the bus was gone. He spent his own bus ride home dreaming about the lovely, now single Allison and where he might see her next. Saturday after work, Gary took Rogan over to the pawn shop and helped him carry the amp out to Gary's Jeep. As Rogan humped the amp up the front stairs of the snakehouse by himself, he figured it weighed about 40 pounds. He could carry it by himself, but he sure wouldn’t like to. He would have to keep it at the warehouse. It was too heavy to lug up and down every week, and it was really too loud for home use anyway. So he called Buzz. Buzz said he could grab him on the way over to the warehouse on Sunday before practice. On Sunday, Buzz and Rogan carried his new Blackstar amp down the alley and up the steps to the warehouse stockroom. As Rogan got it set up, Buzz and Roy admired the new equipment. “Only $375?” Roy asked. “They were practically giving it away.” Once it was all set up, Rogan plugged in and tried a few chords. It sounded fantastic. He had never played on such quality equipment. He tuned up and started with The Trooper, by Iron Maiden. The lovely sound poured out and he was just getting into the song when he noticed J.D. watching as well. Rogan stopped playing. “Nice. Where'd you get it?” “Lou's.” “You are definitely gig ready with that bad boy, but you won't be needing it quite yet. Benny backed out.” The other guys all made disappointed noises. “He said he'll keep us in mind, he might need us to fill in one night. So we should work up a setlist and practice as if we're going to play soon. If he calls us, we'll be ready.” Buzz raised one eyebrow. “I know Benny,” J.D. explained. “He's as good as his word. If there is a slot, we're first in line to fill it. So we better be ready.” *** Three weeks later, at the beginning of February, Rogan was once again in downtown Shermer on his way to Jewel music on a Friday afternoon. He broke an E string in practice the night before and needed some picks too. On the corner of Walnut and Astley, looking across the street as he waited for the light to change, he saw Allison again. His heart picked up, feeling light and sort of swoopy. This time, he waited for her to cross and greeted her when she reached him. “Where ya headed, Al?” He turned to walk with her. “I'm on my way to the Artist's Guild. I need some brushes and paint.” “You're always going there. What are you painting?” “I'm doing a couple of things, Andy's portrait and a landscape..” What? Anger and despair twined together in his heart. How could they still be together? Hadn't Andy said they'd broken up? No, he never explicitly said so. “Last time I saw you was that day in front of Lou's. Where did you get that big bruise?” Rogan looked at her blankly. “You don't know?” “Why would I know? You looked horrible. Were you in a fight?” “You might say that. Someone punched me. I didn't do much fighting back.” “But who punched you? Why?” “You really don't know?” She shook her head. “It was Andy. Andy punched me and told me I was lying about what happened... what happened that night.” Several emotions fleeted across her face before it settled into anger. “No, I didn't know. Somehow Andy forgot to mention that. He didn't believe me at first, but he came around. In fact, he apologized Wednesday night.” “It's nice he apologized, right after punching me.” “That a*s. How could he have--- That was the last thing you needed, after Monday night.” She looked up at him, sorrow showing. “I'm very sorry he did that.” Her anger came back when she continued, “He’s a real chauvinist. I don't appreciate him acting the jealous male.” Rogan had a feeling Andy was going to catch it when Allison got back to him. Inside he was gloating at the idea, but kept his face composed. Their conversation brought them up to the doors of the Artist's Guild. Rogan held the door for Allison and followed her in. She didn't question his accompanying her. He'd never been in an art supply store before. It had an interesting smell of fresh paper and glue and he supposed paints and other chemicals. The place was packed, short, narrow aisles with shelves filled to overflowing. The cracked cement floor was spattered with drops of paint. As he followed Allison deeper into the store, he was distracted by colored pencils. The color coded pencils were brilliant in their rainbow display. After touching the unsharpened ends of a few pencils, he continued after Allison. He found her looking at brushes, which were much less interesting than the pencils, so he drifted down the aisle to the tubes of paint. When she joined him, he asked, “Are those oil paints? I’ve only seen your watercolors.” “Yes. I just started oils this semester. I’m working on an oil version of one of my earlier watercolors.” “I'd like to see that some time.” “You’re in it.” “I am?” “It’s that picture of the four of us down on Lake Michigan, at sunset.” “Yeah, you gave me that one.” “I made one for everybody. It was a perfect day and I wanted to remember it. Would you like to come over tonight? I could give you a portrait of Claire. I did it with you in mind.” “Really? Sure, I'd like that.” He could not believe his good luck. His heart became swoopy again and he felt light inside. “Unless... Andy won't punch me again, will he?” “Not if I have anything to do with it,” she said tartly. She selected three tubes of color and made her way to the cash register. There was a foot high articulated wooden mannequin standing by the register and Rogan adjusted its limbs as Allison checked out. Her total startled him. He had no idea paints and brushes were so expensive. Rogan held the door for her again and they walked to the number three bus stop side by side. Allison asked about his trip to Lou's. She hadn't heard about Ancient Doom at all, so he was still explaining when the bus arrived. “That's wonderful you found a band.” “Thanks.” Feeling he had been talking about himself enough, Rogan asked, “What have you been up to?” “I'm taking art class in school this year, but I'll be going to the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in the fall. I've wanted to go there since I was a kid. And I'm taking a few classes at Shermer tech this summer.” She paused. “I wish these headaches would go away.” “From the car accident?” “Yeah. They’re killer.” Allison pulled the cord to signal the next stop and they got off on the corner. She led the way down a residential side street as they continued talking. When they arrived at her family's modest house, Rogan again felt the swoopy lightness at the idea of being utterly alone with Allison. He found he didn't care if Andy beat the s**t out of him, he didn't care about being party to cheating. If he could woo Allison, he would. Allison guided him to her bedroom and he remembered the night-long vigil that started all of this in the first place. Something happened that night, he couldn't explain what, but somehow it lit a fire in his heart, an unquenchable desire for Allison. Her complete trust in him, her beauty, her essence called to his soul that night. While Rogan was contemplating this upheaval of his world, Allison was flipping through a portfolio. She found what she was looking for and handed Rogan a delicate watercolor picture of Claire. Allison caught everything, the red hair, the button nose, the sprinkle of freckles, the shining brown eyes. “This is perfect, Allison.” That summer seemed long ago, a time when everything seemed clear. He had Claire, Allison had Andy, everything fit together. Now life was messy and everything was out of place. He stood looking at Claire's portrait, but thinking about Allison. Allison had continued rummaging, now in a drawer of a desk, and came up with some cardboard and a plastic sleeve. She gently took the watercolor from Rogan and slipped it in the sleeve with the cardboard, making a safe package of the picture. She handed it back, then beckoned him to an easel in a corner by a window. “This is the one with all of us.” Rogan made his way over to the easel, carefully setting the picture of Claire on top of the desk as he crossed the room. He came to stand next to Allison and they both looked at the oil painting of a pier at sunset with four indistinct figures leaning against a railing. “This one is you,” Allison said, and pointed to the figure on the end, which was slightly taller than the others. It was almost identical to the watercolor he had on his mantle. “And here is Claire.” She pointed to another figure, and before she could let her hand drop, Rogan gently took her hand in his own. When she turned, he covered it with his other hand. Something passed between them when she met his eyes. It was the same open, trusting, dreamy look she had in her eyes when he woke her at eight in the morning, that day so long ago. His heart roared like a dragon and he leaned closer. Then she looked down and gently removed her hand from his, took a step back. Rogan's blood continued coursing hard. He knew what he saw in her eyes. She felt something for him. She wanted him the way he wanted her. He stepped back too, letting her have her space. He could wait. He looked at his watch and said, “I'd better go, if I want to catch the next bus.” He picked up the picture of Claire and made his way to the living room. Allison followed, opening the front door for him. “Thanks for this,” he said, gesturing with the picture. “You're welcome. I'm glad I was able to give it to you. It was meant for you.” © 2021 SweetNutmegAuthor's Note
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6 Reviews Added on August 16, 2019 Last Updated on November 15, 2021 AuthorSweetNutmegAboutI'm on hiatus and returning no reviews. I am sorry to say I don't do poetry. At all. As in, never. Not even for you. more..Writing
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