Page 25 of King of Pain

“I keep meaning to ask, what’s this all about?” he says, holding up the flyer.

“Vino & Vinyl?” I ask, moving a stack of records to the next shelf.

“Yeah, what is it?” he presses, turning the flyer over.

“It’s a thing we do every month,” I explain, keeping my tone casual. “Local wineries set up shop here, and people come to sample wine and browse records. We bring in a few food vendors too. It’s kind of become a big deal on Mill Ave.”

Chance nods—clearly interested. “That’s a fantastic idea. Whose brainchild was it?”

Fuck. I hesitate, hoping he’ll drop it, but of course, he doesn’t.

“Come on, Ant,” he says, leaning against the counter with that damn smirk. “Don’t leave me hanging. This is all you, isn’t it?”

I open my mouth to deflect, but Frank’s voice carries from the other end of the shop. “Yes, that’d be all Anthony.”

I shoot Frank a glare as he and Kathy stroll over, each holding a cup of coffee.

“Anthony came up with the whole thing,” Kathy says proudly. “He pitched it to us shortly after he started working here a few years ago—it’s been a hit ever since.”

“Modest little genius,” Frank adds with a chuckle.

I groan, feeling the heat rise to my face. “It’s not a big deal. It was just an idea.”

“‘Not a big deal?’” Kathy repeats, her voice rising in mock outrage. “Anthony, it’s the reason we’re finally a profitable operation. You gave people a reason to come in here, whether to rediscover their love for vinyl—or to realize the shop exists in the first place.”

“Exactly,” Frank agrees, setting his coffee down on the counter. “Hell, we’ve even got regulars who plan around it.”

Chance looks at me, his grin widening. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Ant? Color me impressed.”

“It’s really not that impressive,” I mutter, suddenly very interested in the Abba record in front of me.

Kathy laughs and pats me on the shoulder. “You’re too modest for your own good.”

“Or just embarrassed,” Jen pipes up as she joins the conversation, dropping her bag behind the counter. “Seriously, Pacini, just take the damn compliment for once.”

“Yeah, Pacini,” Frank says with a wink. “Take the compliment.”

I groan again as they all laugh, clearly enjoying my discomfort. They don’t know the depth behind it. How could they? It’s not like I’ve ever told anyone… anything.

I’m saved by Jen plopping the shipment of new inventory trade albums on the counter. Chance leans against the counter, flipping through the shipment. His forearms flex and his tattoos move like a living work of art. He glances up, a crooked grin on his face.

“Alright, team,” he announces, his tone casual but insistent. “If any of you ever come acrossThe Queen Is Dead—and I mean the 1986 promo with the alternate cover—do me a solid and set it aside. I don’t care what the price is. I’ll pay whatever we’d charge a customer. I know it will kill my savings, but that’s my one.Theone.”

I stop mid-shelving and look over at him. “That’s your holy grail, eh?”

Chance nods, his expression earnest now. “Damn right. It’s impossible to find. The promo with the alternate cover is like a myth at this point, but I’ve been searching for years. Just putting it out there in case the vinyl gods ever decide to bless this shop.”

Jen snorts from her spot behind the counter. “Wow, Sullivan, didn’t peg you as a Morrissey guy.”

“I’m not,” he says quickly, holding up a hand. “I’m a Smiths guy. Big difference.”

There’s a spark of passion in his voice that catches me off guard, a glimpse of the person behind the confidence. I take out my phone and pull up the Notes app.

“Well ok then,” Jen says, rolling her eyes. “We’ll keep an eye out for your unicorn when the trades come in.”

Chance gives her a mock salute before going back to his stack. I linger for a second longer than I should, watching him, before shaking it off and returning to my shelf.

An hour later, Frank, Kathy, and Jen leave for the day, leaving Chance and me to handle the rest of the shift. The shop is quieter now, just a few customers browsing in the back.