You Should Have Been Here Yesterday

Kickin' Ass in Boston Mass.

I was finally able to talk to Steven every night.  Sure, there were times when we were both busy, and times when we were fed up with this whole being-away-from-one-another thing (okay, that's actually all the time), but I still got to talk to him.  Regardless of how short the conversations sometimes were.

        And besides, at least we're still talking to each other.  In fact, he's planning on visiting really soon.

        I was currently perusing a record store, looking for any hints that they might need a new employee.  Being a waitress just wasn't cutting it.  But it was actually more like I was looking through row after row of vinyl for something I don't have, don't need, but really want.

        And it was going well... Until that asshole tried to steal my record.

        It was a forty-five.  The first one they recorded.  The one with The Sun on it.  And Steven's record was so close to being mine... Until the pretty boy with the long dark hair tried to take it.

        "Oh, sorry," I said.  "Guess it's a good find."

        The guy looked up at me.  It was hard to see his face through his dark fringe of hair.  And despite the record store's rule, he wore jeans, boots, and only a leather jacket.  He kind of laughed at the look on my face.

        "Yes," he agreed.  "A good find."

        I thought he would let go but he didn't.  I even pulled on it a bit.  "Yeah, my boyfriend is in this band, so..."  I said that, hoping that it would make him let go.  It didn't.

        His eyes widened.  "He is?" I nod.  "Fascinating... Well, I'm buying this as more of a joke."

        "How do you mean?" I asked.

        "I'm in a band with one of the guys now.  I thought I'd take it home and play it for them and see what they do."

        But that's actually not funny, man, I wanted to say.  Instead, "Well I don't happen to have this record, so-"

        He cut me off though.  "Tell you what: Why don't I buy it, and you... You can come over and listen."

        "Or," I say.  "Or, I buy it, you leave, I leave, and I listen to it at my house."

        "I like my idea better."

        "I don't."

        "You don't?"  He almost sounds incredulous.  Offended even.

        "Yeah," I sigh dramatically, pretending to be really conflicted.  "My idea is probably the best option in this situation.  So I'll just be taking this..."  I again try to pull the record, and this time he lets go.

        And instead his hand goes to my shoulder.  "Don't be like that, Gin," he said softly.

        I look up at him.  Oh my god.  How didn't I notice before?  How could I have missed that?  He looks so different!  No, really only his hair is longer.  Like, a lot longer.  And he's not wearing glasses.  That's it.  Why didn't I recognize him?

        "Anthony?!"

        He shakes his head, embarrassed.  Yes, definitely Anthony.  "Nope," he says.  "Joe."

        Nope?  Seriously?  I know it's you, dipshit.  "Joe?"

        "Yep."

        "Perhaps the same Joe on the phone?"

        "Yep."

        "Oh my god," I mutter.