Alicia called at eight the next morning asking if I could open the record store at nine and stay until noon since both Kelvin and Chance were sick and she and Randy had some things they needed to do first. Of course, I said yes because how could I turn her down when she’d been so good to me?
I hadn’t gotten to bed until about two-thirty and was dragging a little, but it wasn’t a big deal since not many customers came in that early. As I was grooving to some Earth, Wind & Fire, pulling recently acquired albums from a box and putting them in order in the cubicles, the bell on the front door rang.
“Welcome to Vinyl Impressions,” I called, “Where we have the vinyl solution.” I snorted. I didn’t have to say anything to customers when they came in, but in the two years I’d worked here, I sometimes got bored and greeted them with a dumb remark just to have something to do. Today was one of those days.
When the person didn’t answer, I stood up to see if maybe they’d opened the door on accident and left, only to feel a chill crawl through me at seeing Rusty standing there.
Shit.
What did he want? Oh, God, did he know Izzy and I had followed him?
Shit!
“Hey, Russ. Whaddya need?” I called as nonchalantly as I could, walking back to the counter and going behind it to put something between us. There was also a baseball bat Randy kept back there just in case, and I made sure I had it at the ready.
I watched him walk slowly toward me, stopping to look at a few albums along the way. I felt sweat gather on my upper lip and reached my hand up furtively to wipe it away. Never let them see you sweat, right?
Three thousand hours later, he finally approached the counter and smiled.
“What’s up, Jilly Bean?”
“Nothing. What do you want?”
He jerked his head back and frowned. “Now, that’s not the way to treat a customer, is it?”
I stared at him watching his every move, my fingers behind the counter never losing contact with the end of the bat that stood upright and ready to go if I needed it.
“What do you want, Rusty?” I asked again.
He leaned a hip against the glass and pointed casually down into the case. “How much is that guitar pick signed by Billy Squier?”
Eyes still on him, I said, “Twenty-five dollars.”
He let out a whistle. “Damn, girl. You know your stuff. Didn’t even have to look at it. Impressive. Now, how old is ol’ Billy now? He’s gotta be close to seventy. You reckon the price’ll go up after he dies?”
What a jerk. “I suppose so.”
He grinned then moved away from the counter, looking around and taking his sweet time in his perusal of every flipping thing we had in the store, it seemed. I practiced my deep breathing, trying to stay calm as I kept an eye on him knowing the bastard was doing this on purpose, his psychological warfare working very well on me, damn it.
Then glory be to everything sacred and holy, because I didn’t think I’d ever be so happy to hear a back door open as I was right then. And when I heard Randy’s boots on the old wooden floorboards making them groan in protest, I let out the breath I’d been holding for going on ten minutes.
“Hey, sister,” he called walking into the main floor.
“Hey, Randy,” I croaked in relief.
God, I was so glad he was there. He and Alicia were both in their mid-sixties but looked a lot younger. And while Alicia was petite and as tiny as could be, Randy was a big, burly guy, so I was confident he could hold his own if Rusty tried anything. Unless Rusty was trained in martial arts. Or had a knife. Or a gun. Ack! I felt the sweat return to my lip and was sure I felt a trickle down my back.
One look at me and Randy knew something was wrong. Standing taller, he looked around, his eyes landing on Rusty who was now across the store looking at guitars. “We got a problem?” he asked quietly.
I leaned down and turned the music up just a bit since the speakers were set in the ceiling and also at various places around the store, one of which was close to Rusty and I hoped he couldn’t hear what we were saying. “He’s my roommate. He’s kinda scary and has sort of threatened me before, and I’m not sure what he’s doing here.”
"Well, we’ll just find out then, how about that?” Raising his eyebrows, he winked at me before stepping out from the counter and made his way toward Rusty.
In the meantime, I went to get the box of new arrivals and put it behind the counter. When I stood up, I saw the guys in deep conversation and Randy was showing him a guitar he’d pulled from the wall. They chatted for a half hour before both came walking toward me.
“Your friend has a question for you,” Randy said with a chuckle.
Great. What did Rusty have to ask me?
My eyes were flat as I watched him really play it up, acting shy even sticking his hands in his pockets, all gawrsh, look how bashful I am, and I hoped Randy hadn’t fallen for his fakeness. As for me, I wanted to punch Rusty smack in the nose.
“Well, Jilly, I wanted to ask you about Izzy. You think she’d go out with me?”
Was he even serious right now? She’d turned him down countless times not even twelve hours before!
“No. I’m pretty sure she told you that about fifty times last night.”
“Doesn’t hurt trying a fifty-first time, now, does it, son?” Randy said with a laugh clapping Rusty on the shoulder.
“No, sir, it doesn’t,” Rusty replied, laughing right along with him.
“I’ve gotta go check on some things. Be right back,” Randy said. “Nice meeting you, Rusty. You come back in when you’re ready to buy that guitar and I can set you up with some lessons too.”
“Thanks,” Rusty hollered to Randy, who held up his hand in a wave from behind as he walked away.
When we were alone again, the icy shiver that’d run through my bones before was back and I watched Rusty’s friendly demeanor go hard.
“What were you two girls up to last night?” he asked, his eyes narrowing on me.
For the umpteenth time, I loathed that he resembled Zane because he was such a prick, but to say the wind was damn near knocked out of me because I knew that he knew we’d followed him was an understatement. Heart attack and stroke all at once was more like it. I strained to think of some of the places in the area we’d passed that I could lie and say we were headed there just in case.
“Nothing. Girls’ night. Why?”
“I heard you telling Izzy you’re going out with that cop again.”
I shrugged. “So?”
“Told you I didn’t think it was a good idea.”
“And I care what you think because?”
“Just watch yourself, Jillian.” His brown eyes that were like Zane’s but not, held mine in their soulless clutch for a moment before I finally looked away.
“Why do you care if I date a cop? Huh?” I asked as I tried for casual and not terrified as I rearranged some magazines on the countertop. “Are you doing something illegal and you don’t wanna get caught? Is that it?”
He let out a breath. “Look. I got into some trouble a couple years ago and I just don’t want this cop harassing me.”
“What kind of trouble?” I questioned, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Nothing you need to know about. I got caught up in some bad stuff but didn’t get arrested. I just don’t want this guy giving me hell.”
His thinking he was so infamous made me laugh. “And you’re so notorious, you think every policeman in Seattle knows who you are? Like they’ve studied some kind of suspect book with pictures and they know who all the bad guys are. Get real, Rusty.” I rolled my eyes then jumped when he slammed his hand down on the countertop. At that moment, I heard Randy coming back, so I let my roommate have it. “You keep trying to intimidate me with these asshole tactics of yours and I will tell Zane to look into you.”
Rusty leaned down close and said in a sinister tone, “Watch yourself, little girl. I’d hate for something bad to happen to your boyfriend, you feel me?” He stood straight and his mien did a one-eighty as Randy approached, and he was back to being the friendly customer who was only interested in buying a guitar. Looking at Randy who’d come behind the counter with me, he said, “Thanks, man, for showing me the Fender. I’ll come back soon and pick it up then we can talk about those lessons.”
“Sure thing, son. You take care now,” Randy replied, shaking Rusty’s hand.
Wow.
I couldn’t believe as smart as Randy was moneywise, he’d let a punk like Rusty fool him.
“Dickhead,” Randy murmured under his breath just after Rusty left the store.
In shock, I whipped my head to the side to look up at him.
Tilting his head down toward me, he explained, “That kid’s trash, sister. You make sure to lock your things up at home when you’re gone. And tell your cousin it’d probably be a good idea for him to find another roommate.”
My body sagged in relief. “Oh, thank God. I thought he’d charmed you into thinking he was a good guy.”
He shook his head. “Walked over to check him out and saw him pocketing a couple things, then he proceeded to act interested in the guitars but he’s not smart enough to pull it off. Nah, he’s a chiseler. A grifter in the worst way because…but…wait a second now. Come to think about it, that just might be his method—acting like he wants you to think he’s a good guy and though you feel like he isn’t, he uses some kinda psychological bullshit all up in your face so it’s out in the open. Like he’s daring you to call him out. That way he can pull shit right under your nose and you know he’s doing it but you’re not quite sure if he did it on purpose or not. Damn. That’s genius.”
I raised my eyebrows thinking there was nothing genius about Rusty.
“He’s a crafty one. Like I said, girl, you watch your back with him. Feels like something’s festering under the surface and I don’t like you being that close to him.”
“I’ll talk to Chet and see what we can do. But thanks, Randy. I’m so glad you showed up.” I tiptoed up and kissed his cheek, grateful for him and that he’d seen through Rusty’s act. Suddenly exhausted, I stated, “Well, if there’s nothing else I need to do, I’m outta here.”
“All righty. Go enjoy your day, kid.”
“Bye, Randy. And thanks again for coming in when you did.”
Grabbing my big purse to leave, I thought that now if I could get Chet on board, we could set things into motion and get Rusty out of our apartment before something bad actually did happen.