In A Perfect World

Chapter Three

"Hello? This is Viv speaking."

Bodies pushed past me as I stood outside of a café, clutching the phone tightly to my ear. In the other hand I held my leather guitar case. "Hey Viv, its Jack. How's it going?"

 "Depends on why you're asking," I replied as I dumped my guitar next to a table. I felt somebody tap my shoulder. I spun around to face the cafés waiter who was grinning at me enthusiastically. Everybody at that place knew my face by memory; they'd been letting me busk there for the past two years. The waiter, a young girl by the name of Kristine, pointed at the case and tilted her head at me.

"Just wanted to check up on my favorite gal in the entire world," his voice came through the speaker, sounding exactly like how Jack always sounded – ridiculous and oozing with flirtation. Rolling my eyes to myself, I nodded at the waiter as if to say 'Yeah, I'll be playing something.' Happy with my answer, she gave my arm a squeeze and dodged through the tables to get back inside.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" I leaned over and popped open my guitar case.

"I am," he said, "but it's boring. And Chris wanted me to pass on the message that you've got tomorrow off. And the next day."

I froze, with my hand dangling above the neck of my guitar. "What? Why?"

"I dunno, he just said that it wasn't worth having it open because they're always the quiet days."

I wanted to scream. "Jack," I breathed, shaking my head in disbelief. "I need the money. Desperately."

"Babe, I know. I'm just as pissed as you are. Hopefully this is just a momentary thing, you know?"

I grabbed my guitar and pushed the case in front of me, leaving it open for donations. "Don't call me babe."

"Sorry," he laughed, not sounding very apologetic. I let out of a breath of air and took a seat. Relax, Viv. Jack may not be the sharpest crayon in the box but he did have a point – this could only be momentary thing. We're getting some new stock in next week so maybe that'll up the sales a bit.

"Look, I've got to go. Some kid wants to know if we sell One Direction albums but I'm pretty sure they're shoved like way out the back."

I sighed. "Jack, we're all out of One Direction albums."

"Fuck. Shit. Okay well I'm about to make a twelve year old girl cry so I better go now. Laters."

I hung up, not even bothering to say goodbye. Jack could handle that himself. I, on the other hand, had some busking to do – especially now that it looked like I'd be missing out on a whole lot of shifts for the week.

"Looks like it's just you and me," I whispered to my guitar, shifting it higher to rest comfortably against my thigh. I frowned, noticing a scratch against the black panel around the hole of the guitar. Luckily the floral pattern hid the scratch quite well but it still annoyed me; I'd had this guitar for years, a gift from a person who used to mean the world to me. He would kill me if he knew.

As I slowly began picking the strings with my fingers and singing gently, people walking past would stop and watch for a moment. Some waited and left, throwing me a smile, and others dropped a few coins they'd found in their pockets into my case. I felt my chest swell with joy with every single smile, comment, donation and compliment I'd receive as I sat outside some random café playing songs I'd grown up with.

They were songs I'd known for years, songs that Liam had taught me back when we were sixteen and incredibly stupid. Whilst Liam enjoyed grabbing an electric and turning his volume to the max, so loud that the entire neighbourhood could hear him, I preferred to stick with the acoustic guitar he'd so generously given to me. I loved it.