ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟ [eddie munson]

ꜱʜᴇʟᴛᴇʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ

*** July 3rd, 1986 - Venice Beach, California ***

"Wallace!"The manager shouted from the back, although he was nowhere near him, he could smell the thick cigarette smoke and beer riddled his breath. "Wallace, you asleep or somethin'?"

"I'm here, Freddy," He groaned, lifting himself off the counter where he balanced his forehead. He was exhausted from working that week, between jobs at the body shop and the record store, he hardly had time to sleep. But he had to do it, he had to scrape as much money as he could.

The man emerged from a curtain behind him, lifting his pants from the sides, trying to cover his pot-belly. The sweat glistened on his bald head, his various earrings jiggled as he moved. "Imma head out," he said, pointing his sausage fingers towards him, "No funny business while I'm gone."

He smiled forcefully, taking two fingers to his forehead as he saluted towards the man as he walked away and out of the store. The door let in a cool, ocean breeze, allowing him to for a moment take in what kind of life was outside the four walls he had been cornered into. Although he had been there for months now, he rarely got to see the ocean. He barely even got to see the daylight. He wanted to go downtown, to Rodeo Drive, he wanted to go to all the places he promised he would go to. It takes time, he thought, you have to play it smart. Play it cool.

Running his hands through his hair, he brushed his curls out and let them bounce around his neck. Still not used to having a shorter hair style, he would always stretch his arms out too far and seem like he had just woken up, exaggerating. Shaking his head once more, he leaned a forearm on the counter once more and continued reading the book that was wide open. Twirling a curl in his finger, his foot would tap to the beat of the music that played over the speakers.

The only sound that would distract him from his book would be that of the door, the ringing of shells that hung above it violently taking him away from the fantasy land he was currently living in. In came a group of loud, giggling girls. He rolled his eyes, they must be tourists, thinking that this was la creme de la creme. Hate to break it to you, he thought to himself, this is just like any shit hole on the boardwalk.

Behind the louder girls, all looking around with widened eyes, was one more. A quiet one, who tried to sneak around the obnoxious bunch. Her long wavy blond hair seemed freshly dried from the sun, her skin twinkled with a soft glow of sand. She purposefully knocked her shoulder against one of the girls, who almost screeched in terror when she did so. He smirked, trying to hold in a laugh but was met by the eyes of the girl, who only winked at him as she began to browse one of the vinyl sections.

His heart skipped a beat as he felt like he knew her, that she reminded her of something. Something long gone that he hadn't felt in a very long time. Rather, she reminded him of someone. So lost in his thoughts he didn't realize he had been staring at her, a bibliography of memories flooding his mind.

"Why the long face?" She shouted towards him, which startled him at first. Her voice was warm, stern. She brushed the long wavy hair behind her ear, a motion that made his stomach turn. She was wearing a bikini top, a wet suit slightly opened but dangling from her waist.

"Oh," he stuttered, straightening himself up from the counter and placing his bookmark on the page, quickly closing it. "Nothing, sorry."

She turned to him and smirked, as she quickly grabbed two vinyls from the stand and walked over to her. He could feel his heart flutter once more, not quite understanding why he felt that way. Over the speakers a song started to almost scream, like someone had cranked the volume to its max. The girl turned her head around, her brow raising slightly.