Page 25 of Reckless

Chapter 7

The walk into town only takes me ten minutes and a few people politely greet me when we pass. It’s a whole different world from LA. It’s nice.

After wandering for a while, checking things out and keeping my head down as much as I can, I spot the music store. My heart lifts when I see the acoustics on display in the window. This is promising.

My pulse picks up a bit when I go inside, worrying I’ll be recognized in here, but the guy behind the counter is in his fifties, at a guess, and doesn’t seem to know who I am.

The smell of wood and old records takes me back as I peruse the wall of guitars. They have some decent brands here and I walk the length of the store, checking them out.

The store owner comes over and helps me take a few down to try out. He’s impressed when I play some chords, and enthusiastic about having someone here who knows about guitars. They’re expensive, and I wonder how he does business in such a small town. When he hands me his card, I see the web address. He must have a lot of online business.

We talk for a while, and I settle on a Larivee OM-40 with a blonde wood body and mahogany neck. It’s a gorgeous guitar and will be an amazing addition to my collection. The owner is thrilled because this is over two grand's worth of guitar. He sets me up with a case, and I throw in a few picks, some notepads and pens and a guitar strap.

Once it’s all stored, I put the case over my back and head out. It’s nearing midday. I’ve spent close to an hour and a half in here. Before I leave, I take a snapshot of the storefront and unpack the guitar to take one of that too. I know a few musicians who would appreciate what is on offer here.

I send the photo of the guitar to Solene.

Solene

Wow. That is gorgeous, Jude. How does it sound?

Jude

Not played it yet but can’t wait

Solene

Banged her yet?

Jude

It’s not like that. And fuck off

She sends some more texts, which I ignore, but I’m not mad.

I go in a few more stores but get paranoid people are looking at me, so head to the park I’ve passed twice and wander around. I’m surprised I haven’t got bored yet. My fingers are itching to play the guitar, so I find an out of the way bench, get it out and tune it to my liking.

About ten minutes into playing, I look up and see a couple watching me. The woman opens her purse, and I put up my hand. She thinks I’m busking? God, if she knew my bank account was obscene, she wouldn’t be offering me her five dollars.

We go back and forth a few times, but I don’t have the heart to turn her away when she continues to insist. I thank her. I don’t want to take anyone else’s money, so pack up.

That is when I spot Krista. She’s standing on the edge of the park looking over with an amused expression. The guitar is back in its case by the time she gets near.

“Are you hustling these good people?”

“It was unintentional. I needed to play. I tried to say no, but she insisted.”

“Well, lunch is on you then.”

We head out of the park, and she takes me to a diner I’ve passed a few times. We get a quiet booth, and a server takes our order at the table. It feels rude to sit here with a hat on, so I risk taking it off.

“Did you get much writing done?” I ask when the server has dropped off our sodas.

“About three thousand words. That’s not bad for a couple of hours.”

“Seems like a lot to me.”

“My projected word count is a hundred and thirty, so…”

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