Don't Know What To Do With Myself

Chapter 2

Cold Mountain wasn't even the most exciting part. 

I'd done a deep dive on my laptop that night, first looking up Jack, then his music, then Third Man Records, and then his countless achievements. He was a fascinating and handsome specimen. 

A stadium-chant-writing, Grammy winning, guitar playing vinyl mogul had been standing inches away from me in MY father's antique shop throwing down cash like it was nothing and flirting with me. All I could do was stare at him, blush, and look bored. The only thing I'd done right was have red hair. 

My parents didn't seem to care much, although my dad was already scheming to get Jack back to the shop to buy more expensive swords and taxidermy. 

Meanwhile, I was digging out my cheap Crosley suitcase turntable and spinning my own modest record collection. My "collection" was really just some Bach concertos, a Donna Summer single, and a niche collection of raunchy blues songs. Not much to write home about, but I didn't want to feel uncultured around Jack tomorrow. It had been 5 years since I'd even looked at that little pink record player.

The next morning I was riding into town with Derrick. The 30 year old was gabbing away about some muscle car show he went to last Saturday. Derrick was like an uncle to me, he made working in Noah's Ark tolerable with his stories about high school, car shows and eccentric antique buyers. 

Today I was only half listening to Derrick's story about some bar fight at the car show afterparty. Usually I would be hanging on his every word. I was too busy thinking about Jack. Derrick seemed to notice my lack of interest. He asked me why I was far away. I told him I was just tired from reading all night. It wasn't a total lie, but I wasn't tired at all. Instead of my usual habit of plowing through romance novels, I was reading article after article about Jack. 

Derrick pulled into the back lot of Third Man Records. Jack was already waiting for us outside with some other guys who would be helping carry the lion. 

It didn't take long for Derrick to exchange introductions with Jack and the other men and begin carrying the lion through the truck delivery door.

I found the courage to get out of the care, feeling slightly underdressed in my cheap jean skirt and pink tank top. 

Jack's 6'2 frame was clad in a black suit and yellow tie along with a bowler hat with a small canary feather to match the tie. He looked quite dapper, more professional than yesterday but there was still an undercurrent of danger about him. I couldn't figure it out, really.

It didn't seem to matter how either of us were dressed because his face lit up when he saw me. "You came!", he said, almost in disbelief. 

I shrugged, trying to act aloof. "It sounded interesting". 

"I promise it is. Want a free tour?", Jack asked. He held out his hand to me.

"You had me at 'free'!", I tucked my hair behind my ear before taking his hand and following him inside. 

He showed me the Blue Room and the machine they use to record live performances to wax, the displays, and the picture wall, before leading me to the front lounge with the antiques and novelty machines. A couple employees stood about, the girls in sunny, yellow dresses giggled Jack and greeted him as he swaggered across the lounge. His long legs carrying him to an interesting machine in a few steps. He leaned against it, smiling over at the girls behind the counter. "Now ladies, show our guest the Mold-O-Rama or the Monkey Band first?", he asked, swinging his voice flirtatiously.

The girls giggled again before one responded, practically gushing, "Show her the Mold-O-Rama, it's so cute and you get a souvenir!".

Jack looked back to me, flexing his eyebrows before reaching into his pocket and putting in a few tokens. I watched, intrigued as I watched the inner workings of the machine for a little plastic toy guitar before dispensing it behind a little metal door. I opened it and reached to grab it. The hot plastic stung my fingers. "Oof ouch!", I clumsily dropped the figurine. 

"Aww, did you burn your pretty fingers?", Jack asked. He scooped up my hand and quickly kissed my fingers. He then picked up the little red guitar. "Keep it, it's your's.", he said, handing it to me. I blushed as I put the figurine into my beat up Betsey Johnson purse. 

"Th-thanks", I stuttered. 

Jack just grinned before showing me the other novelties. "You can record a song in the little booth right there, and it spits out a playable 45 for you to take home.", Jack said pointing to a little booth with glass windows. I snorted,"If only I wasn't tone deaf". I was only lucky enough to inherit my mother's beautiful face and well sculpted hourglass figure, but never her ability to sing...God had to keep me humble somehow, I guess. Jack laughed. "Who said you had to sing?", he gestured to the guitar set up next to the booth.

I tilted my head to the side as I shook it, " Never learned to play guitar, unfortunately".

"Let me teach you some time?"

I looked back at him, doubtfully. "I know who you are, a busy man like you has time to teach me guitar?".

"Come on, it'll be more fun than ringing up taxidermy for rich assholes like me.", Jack shrugged as he leaned against the booth. 

I couldn't help but laugh, as that was exactly what my life consisted of, although I didn't group him in with the rest of the rich assholes. "Okay fine, what have I got to lose".

After the tour of the lounge was over, Jack walked me to the backdoor. "I hope this was exciting for you, you seemed so...sad that day at Noah's Ark?"Jack said gently, taking hold of both my hands.

"I'm not sad, just...underwhelmed with my life…", I admitted. 

Jack stepped a little closer to me and leaned down so that his lips were inches from my ear. "Would you like me to overwhelm you?"Jack's raspy voice caressed my ear and cheek like velvet. 

I nodded meekly, my mouth agape. He smiled before grabbing my chin and guiding my lips to his. He wrapped his arms around my waist. I was stunned but I found myself melting helplessly into his muscular arms. Then I was kissing him back. 

We pulled back for air, my heart racing.

"Paper?" Jack asked between breaths.

I reached into my purse and pulled out a little pocket notebook - a beat up Hello Kitty notepad. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I handed it to him. He nodded with a smile and scrawled his number and optimal times and days to call on one of its pages.

"Call me when you want to be overwhelmed again", Jack said before waving goodbye and striding away. 

The guy knew how to make an exit.

I reapplied my pink Revlon lipstick in my compact mirror and exited Third Man Records. Derrick was outside getting along with the guys who helped move the lion. They said their own goodbyes, promising to get drinks together.

"Finally done getting felt up by the rockstar, huh?", Derrick put out his cigarette and started the car

"THAT DID NOT HA-"

"I'm teasing you, Delilah", Derrick busted out laughing.

***

Later that night, I lay on bed, Bach concertos playing in the background again. My lips and body remembering him, his embrace haunting me. 

"Call me when you want to be overwhelmed again…", Jack's words in my mind. I shivered and looked over at my phone, the Hello Kitty notepad lay beneath it.