Page 45 of Only You

Washington, D.C.

‘I’m telling you; I’ll be there tomorrow. Really, I’m good now.’

‘Fine, but if you pull out at the last minute like last time, I’m beating you with your own guitar,’ Ross threatened. ‘I almost had to call Oliver to fill in.’

‘Oliver’s a cool dude.’

Ross scoffed. ‘Nigga wants to pretend he’s Jimi Hendrix but takes an hour to get a decent take. Be there tomorrow.’

Jones chuckled at his easily frustrated friend. ‘Relax, man. I’ll be there.’

Hanging up, he went back to the task at hand, flipping through albums in Som Records, decorative vinyl records covering the walls and encouraging him to explore the small shop further.

It was no larger than a basement, the room split by a row of pillars.

Shelves stood on either side of the far walls; random baskets of vinyl albums tucked into corners.

Despite the size, Jones often spent hours in the store for one reason: finding music for his dad.

Though he didn’t regularly talk to his parents, he kept in touch with them in his own way.

His dad, a former musician, had a vinyl record player that he’d kept from the Eighties.

Growing up, Jones had watched him take it apart more than once to fix it.

Sometimes, he would help while his dad recounted stories of discovering hip-hop or the concerts he had been to.

During high school, his dad had screened in the back porch of their Atlanta home and moved his record player outside to play every Sunday – his version of church.

After Jones had moved out, he created a way to add to the tradition.

Every month, he would send his dad different vinyl records, adding to the memories.

Jones was flipping through the R&B section, picking out a few safe bets: Marvin Gaye, Curtis Mayfield and other greats his father had lost over the years. He was looking for something more contemporary when someone stopped in front of him on the other side of the aisle.

‘Hmm… I give this album a six out of ten.’

He looked up and saw Dani leaning over the records, staring at his selection. At the top of the stack lay House of Balloons by The Weeknd.

‘Hello to you, too. But I can’t give this less than an eight. It’s a classic in the making,’ Jones defended.

‘True, but how can someone be that sad for so many tracks? Not to mention toxic,’ she said, scrunching her nose up.

‘Toxic but talented.’ Jones moved the album to the side so he would remember to buy it. ‘Plus, he knows how to stand out, especially nowadays.’

‘Fair enough.’

Jones smirked as he spotted an album and grabbed it. ‘Speaking of someone who always sings sad songs…’ He held up The Best of Sade vinyl.

Dani’s jaw dropped before she grabbed it from him. ‘First of all, not all her songs are sad,’ she said. ‘Second, her voice is sultry, not whiny.’

‘The Weeknd isn’t… super whiny.’ While talented, Jones wasn’t always in the mood for the singer’s falsetto tone.

‘Say The Weeknd is a better singer than Sade and I will riot,’ Dani warned.

Jones looked at her perturbed. ‘Never,’ he said, taking the album out of her hand and putting that one aside, too.

Jones tilted his head curiously as Dani continued to browse the store, wondering how deep in the memories she was. He would guess their third life, but it was impossible to know if her mind was still going in order like his or—

Don’t spiral , he reminded himself.

He almost hated how a question about her memories or research was always on the tip of his tongue.

He knew she was doing her best to find a solution and he didn’t want to put pressure on her search.

On top of that, he couldn’t decide whether to feel resigned to the fact that she might not find anything or to start giving in to the flicker of hope that flared up every time she said nothing, thinking maybe she was inching towards something.

So, no matter how much he itched to ask, he left it alone.

He blinked, bringing his attention back to the moment as she held up another vinyl. ‘Now, this is a classic.’ She tapped on the cover of Rapture by Anita Baker.

‘Ay,’ he said, reaching out to take a closer look at it. ‘This is it. Altos are underappreciated.’

‘Oh, absolutely. Alto voices are rich like dark chocolate. But people can’t appreciate that either.’

‘’Cause it’s bitter as shit,’ Jones commented as an idea popped into his head.

Dani opened her mouth to say something but panicked as he pulled the vinyl out of its packaging. She looked over her shoulder, moving so that she was blocking him from the view of the cashier, Carter.

Cute , he thought as she leaned towards him. ‘What are you doing?’ she whispered.

‘Relax, the guy knows me,’ he reassured, nodding towards Carter. He removed the paper sleeve and placed it on top of the album cover. ‘Now, guess the song.’

Dani watched him nervously as his hand hovered over a set of grooves and he hummed the melody of ‘Sweet Love’.

Her eyes widened and she turned her ear towards him, listening carefully.

Bobbing her head a couple of times, he expected her to say the title but instead she hummed along, harmonising as they covered the chorus.

He moved his hand and ‘played’ another song. It took her a few seconds before she switched over. He did that a couple more times. Each time, Dani kept up with him, even dancing a little to ‘Same Ole Love’. It was Jones’s turn to be impressed.

‘It seems like we finally have something in common,’ he said, sliding the album back into the sleeve.

Dani chuckled. ‘One or two things,’ she commented straightening up. Her eyes lit up as she held up Aaliyah’s I Care 4 U album. ‘I love this one.’

‘Yeah, Aaliyah was super talented. Had all the potential in the world.’ Dani nodded, smile fading as she stared at the album.

‘The phenomenon of losing the young and talented.’ She slouched, their hands almost touching, and he couldn’t help but be hyper aware of the small distance between them. ‘How do you live with it?’

‘I didn’t have to before now,’ he said. She looked at him pointedly and he sighed, looking around. ‘I guess… I came to terms with it. I can’t control life doing what it does.’

‘Even if it’s tragic?’

He smirked. ‘The tragic stories are the best.’ Dani cracked a small smile.

‘Can’t beat potential.’ She slipped the Aaliyah out from his pile before walking to the checkout counter. ‘I’ll text you later.’ She didn’t look back as she paid for her records and headed for the exit.

‘Hey,’ he called softly. She turned, looking at him expectantly.

He was about to invite her back to keep the game going.

Yet, the words got stuck in his throat. The craving to be near her and the need to protect her from what was coming battled inside him as he looked for something to say.

The longer he stared, the more flustered he became.

He looked around for a hint, the jazz section catching his eye as he forced himself to smile.

‘We’ll always have Charlie Parker, right? ’

Dani’s expectant look transformed into fondness, and she held the Aaliyah album to her chest.

‘Charlie is so last century,’ she said with a playful eyeroll, nodding just to the side of him. ‘Let’s have Brandy instead.’

With that, she left, longing piercing his heart, his eyes staying on her until she was out of view. Only then did he look to where she had pointed and chuckled. He picked up the album and headed to the checkout.

‘You two are the cutest music nerds I’ve ever seen,’ Carter commented dryly as he rung him up.

‘Yeah, maybe.’

He looked at the Brandy album in his hand. The songstress’s sultry expression dominated the cover, the title, Full Moon , tucked into the corner. He made a mental note to keep the album for himself.