Page 4 of King of Pain

“Ooh, fancy,” Kathy says, clasping her hands.

“You’refancy,” Frank teases, winking at her.

“That’s why you married me.”

Jen groans. “Please stop flirting. Exposure is not a condition of our employment. I checked.”

“Speaking of employment,” Frank says, flipping through a folder, “we’ve got a new hire starting tomorrow. You’ll need to train him, Anthony.”

I frown. “Me? Why not Jen?”

“Because Jennifer once told a customer that while all vinyl is timeless, not all fashion is,” Kathy says, looking up over the rim of her glasses.

“She was rude and wearing a fanny pack,” Jen retorts, shrugging.

Frank shakes his head. “Anyway, his name is…” He flips through the folder again, squinting at the paper.

“What is it?” Kathy teases with a smirk, clearly aware of the name but enjoying the sight of her husband bumbling around.

“Carter, no, Charles. Chase?” Frank pauses, then snaps his fingers. “Chance! That’s it. Chance something. Starts with an ‘S.’”

“Chance Sullivan,” Kathy says, exasperated.

“That’s what I said,” Frank says, grinning.

Kathy reaches over, grabs the folder from him and hands it to me. “You’re impossible, husband.” She shakes her head, but her eyes can’t hide her fond amusement.

Frank crosses his arms. “Anyway, you guys will like him, I think. Nice Irish boy from the East Coast. He should fit right in here.”

Jen leans into my side as we’re walking out of the office and whispers, “I don’t know, Chance sounds like a fucking hot name, maybe he should fit right in me.”

I push her into the poster display.

The rest of the shift passes in a blur of banter, organizing, and customers who seem to have a sixth sense for showing up five minutes before closing. By the time the last person leaves, the shop is quiet again, the neon sign flickering in the dim light.

“You ready for your new trainee?” Jen asks as she flips theOpensign toClosed.

“Thrilled,” I deadpan, stacking the last of the featured vinyl for V&V night on the counter so I can prepare the special display.

She grins, tossing her bag over her shoulder just as Kathy and Frank shuffle to the front to leave for the night. “Good luck. Try not to scare him off on his first shift. I need to take more days off this semester.”

“No promises,” I mutter, watching as she and Kathy head for the door.

Frank lingers, adjusting the display in the front window. “Don’t stay too late,” he says, pointing at me.

“Never do,” I reply, even though we both know I’ll be here for at least another hour.

As the door closes behind him, I let out a breath, the shop falling into silence.

The record on the player skips, a soft pop disturbing the air. I walk over and lift the needle, setting it back gently onto the last song. My favorite on this album. The music picks up again, steady and familiar, and for a moment, everything feels right.

That doesn’t last long.

At first, it’s nothing more than movement out of the corner of my eye, a figure passing by the window. My heart skips a beat when I recognize the black cassock and white collar.

A priest.

The sight alone is enough to send a jolt through me, my breath catching as memories claw their way to the surface.