• Tomorrow Will Be Different • {J.C} (P.1)

• Chapter Twenty •

        Work had been slow; Erin listened as Albert tried selling a rare collection of Korean films—a set in which she could barely pronounce.

Al was good at his job—he was a natural born salesman. He could con anyone into doing just about anything.

        Erin started toward the back, carrying a box of VHS tapes. It was a mixture of sells and trades. She would have to rewind them, sort them by genre, label them by price, and then alphabetize them out on the floor in their designated areas.

The day had been going like any other day—until Erin saw Michael through the window at the front of the store.

        She was rooted to the spot, gawking at the entrance with troubled wide eyes. Her behavior was so unusual that Albert took notice.

Al snapped his fingers in front of Erin's face with a laugh hiding in his throat. 
"You good? Don't seize out on me now—I ain't got nobody to cover my smoke breaks today."

        "Michael. He's- he's coming in."

       "What?" Al looked over his shoulder, seeing Mike through the window of the display case at the front of the store. He was raking his hair through the reflection of the glass, obviously trying to fix himself up—or to spy on Erin.

     "Go to the back." Albert demanded. He whirled Erin around by her shoulders, pushing her back behind the counter.

"No, I-"

"Get in the back!" Al growled in a whisper.

       Erin did as told; not because she wanted to, but because Albert had frightened her. In the two years she'd known him, he had never looked at her like that before—nor had he ever spoken to her that way.

       No sooner than Erin stepped into the back room, the bell above the entrance chimed. She caught herself holding her breath; fearing what Al would say to him.

"Hey man, I ain't seen you around here in a while." Albert spoke cheerfully. "How you been?"

"As well as I can be." Michael said.

       Erin's eyes closed tightly at the sound of his voice. It was taking everything in her not to run out of the room just to see him. Erin would never admit it, but she missed him.

She missed waking up next to him; she missed the delivery of his clever jokes. She missed feeling wanted—she missed feeling loved.

Michael had made mistakes, but so had Erin. If she could just talk to him, she'd tell him how sorry she was about the destruction she left behind; she'd tell him that the only reason she reacted so aggressively was because he had hurt her.

Erin had been devastated—she loved him—she thought he loved her too.

        She would tell Michael about having to go back to Carolina—about the phone call she made to her Mother, and how her Mother's certain choice of words had made her want to run back to him almost immediately—to beg for his forgiveness.

Erin wanted to look Michael in the eyes and tell him that he had been right—Sharon—her own Mother, had been the problem all along.

        "Is Erin working today?" Michael asked as he leaned against the counter.

"No, not today." Al lied.

        "How's she doing?"

"She's good—still workin circles around me. Which is fine, as long as she don't steal Maggie's old manager position—I want that position."

     "You know where she's staying now?" Michael asked. Surely, Albert wouldn't lie about that too.

"She not living with you anymore?"

       "I fucked up—I fucked up bad. I started seeing this girl that works at that cafe off 42nd street. Erin found out about it—I lied when she asked me and then a fucking world war ensued. It was bad, man. She threw a fucking lamp at my head."

"Goddamn! Were you concussed or anything?"

        Michael laughed, "The bathroom took most of the damage. I told her to leave and haven't seen or heard from her since. I don't know where she's at—where she went."

"Man," Al shook his head. "I didn't even know you guys broken up—Erin's not mentioned it."

       "You don't think she's seeing someone else now?"

"She's not mentioned anybody."

      "Will you do me a favor?" Michael asked as he reached into the pocket of his black leather trench coat. "Will you give her this the next time you see her? I got a cellphone. I just- I wanna talk to her- I need her to call me—I miss her."

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Thanks, man—I really appreciate it."

"Anytime."

        Erin listened for the bell to chime over the door. As soon as it did, Albert called out to her. "Your old trash just walked out!—Coast is clear!"

       Rolling her eyes as she made her way back out onto the floor, Erin shook her head. "He's not trash."

"Oh he's the trashiest." Albert insisted; keeping his hands busy by realigning a stack of flyers by the register. "I'm gonna go smoke—I need one now."

      Erin stood in front of him, keeping her eyes on his with folded arms—waiting. "Well..."

      "What?"

"The number?..."

"It's in the trash—where it fucking belongs." Albert started to move around her, but turned back around on his heels to face her again. "You heard everything he said, right? He admitted to cheating on you—he didn't just cheat, Renny, he had a whole other fucking relationship with this girl, did you hear that?"

"He didn't say that-"

     "He stood right there and fucking told me he started seeing some other girl that worked off 42nd street. Now, if it had been a one- two time thing, he would've said he slept with her—he wouldn't have said he was seeing her. I didn't think you needed a lesson in guy code, but clearly, you do." Albert started out the door, but stopped just past the counter.
        "I can't believe you're even considering talking to that asshole again after what he did to you—have some self respect."

        Erin watched as Albert made his way outside the shop. The moment she saw his back through the window, Erin went over to the trashcan—retrieving the crumpled piece of paper, slipping it into her pocket.