The Middle | Hemmings + Styles AU

6. the purple haired boy

I was particularly busy at the store the following day. I rearranged the front rack of new releases, cleaned the glass windows and swept the floors. We had more customers that day than we'd had all week and it was almost lunch time when I looked at the clock, and realised that Luke usually would have visited by now.

Leaning against the counter, I was using my phone to post some stuff on the store's social media accounts when a familiar purple-haired boy walked in, holding what I presumed to be a rolled up poster.

"Hey," he smiled. "You're Stella, right?"

I locked my phone and stood up a little straighter. "I really should stop wearing this name tag, shouldn't I? It completely spoils the mystery."

When he laughed, his eyes went squinty. "I'm Michael. I'm in the band with Luke."

That solved the familiarity about him. "Of course," I nodded. "You're the guitarist, right?"

"That's right," he smiled again. His smile filled his whole face, and his dyed hair stuck up in all different directions. He was cute.

"I went to your show two weeks ago," I told him. "You're really talented."

"Do you play guitar too?" He raised his eyebrow with interest and I noticed an eyebrow piercing.

"Nope. I'm just an enthusiastic observer." He laughed before handing me the poster. Without unravelling it, I'd already guessed what it was. "Gig poster?"

Michael nodded. "Luke said we could put it in the window."

"He said what?!" I folded my arms, annoyance quickly bubbling below the surface of my skin. First, he got Michael to do the poster drop off and then he had the nerve to give the smiley purple-haired boy the wrong info so that I had to be the bitch and tell him no.

The guitarist's eyes crinkled again as he burst into laughter, "Nah, he didn't really say that. He just said that would piss you off."

With a smile, I rolled my eyes, "You can put it back there," I told Michael, pointing to the back of the wall. It was almost full but I'd secretly kept rearranging the other posters, in preparation for 5SOS getting another local gig soon.

I'd finished serving another customer and was just adding the cash to the till when Michael put his hands on the front counter, "All done," he said. He stared down at my five-foot-two self. "You're really short."

"Really? I've never noticed," I said dryly. Michael was tall. Not as tall as Luke, but probably as tall as Ashton. Was being six-foot-someting a prerequisite for joining their band?  I glanced over at the poster that was now on the wall. It was too hard to make out the date from here.

"It's next Saturday night," Michael said, noticing where my focus was - and there I was thinking I was playing it cool. "Luke really wants you to come."

"Then Luke can drag his skinny-jeaned legs over here and tell me himself." I smiled as Michael laughed again and turned to walk out of the store.

"He said you'd say that, too."

I guessed Luke thought he had me all figured out. Was I really that transparent? I'd always thought of myself as more closed off. Opaque, even. Maybe I'd opened up to Luke a little more quicker than I usually would. It was hard not too. We were always laughing and our conversations were flowed so easy, aside from yesterday's stupid pretend-boyfriend comments.

Over on the poster wall, there were three others directly to the left of the 5SOS one. They were rather eye-catching because most local bands had their posters done in black and white to save money. This band, however, were all glossy and pale blue with white writing reading: The Picket Fence.

I texted Olivia: We're going to see The Picket Fence on Friday night. Bring Oliver, don't bring Oliver, it's up to you. But don't you dare ditch me for Maserati sex again.

The store door opened and before I glanced up, I thought it might be Luke but it was Grunge. He was holding a stack of files in his hands. Sales reports by the look of it.

"Stella, can you come over here for a second?" He spoke seriously, sitting on the stool behind the counter.

"Is everything okay?" I was worried. Sales reports were always scary. I felt like we had been exceeding our sales targets in the last month but maybe my maths had just gotten progressively worse.

"It's great, actually," he slid a sheet of paper across the front counter towards me. "Last month was our highest selling month, bringing us into our highest profit annum. Ever."

"Really? That is great!" I told him. "Do you think it has a lot to do with the posters? And the social media plan?"

Grunge nodded. "I do. What other thoughts do you have rolling around in that pretty head of yours?"

I did have one actually. It was probably stupid, especially now that so much music was being purchased digitally. The idea came to me not long after we started allowing bands to advertise in the store. What if we leased a bigger space and offered playing space, too? Bands could book gigs in, and we could take a small profit from the ticket sales. We could even add a merch stand and fans could shop for t-shirts and CDs straight after the gig.

It could start an entire new style of music culture. Maybe eventually, if there was enough revenue, we could branch out into some recording space and help upcoming bands lay down their first EP. That would be kind of epic.

In the end, I got over myself and told Grunge exactly that. He didn't think the idea was stupid. In fact, he thought it was smart and something an oldie like him never would have thought of (his words, not mine).

He explained to me that we'd have to watch our sales over the next few months, to make sure we could justify the bigger space. Before he left the store that day, he said one final thing that resulted in me being completely unprofessional and throwing my arms around my big, beefy boss in an over-zealous hug.

"If this works, Stella, then I want you to buy in. I want you to become a partner in the business."