I could've lied (John Frusciante FanFic)

5

I sat in the back of the cab, just outside the back door. I tapped my foot nervously, eyes glancing at the clock, and then at the door.

"I'm here!" He announced, sliding in beside me.
"Hey antho." I grinned, happy I wasn't stuck in awkward silence anymore.

"Where to?" The driver asked.
"Guitar center." He nodded.
"Wha-Anthony, that place is expensive." I argued.
"Don't worry about it." Anthony said.

I rolled my eyes and stayed silent the whole ride there. I wasn't mad, I just wasn't happy. I can't spend all my money on stuff for John. I was just thinking about getting him something simple, like a record.

we pulled into the lot and we went inside.
"Can I see that?" Anthony asked, pulling my hat off my head.
"Hey!" I protested.
"And these." He grinned, grabbing my sunglasses.

"Anthony-"

"Sh, I don't wanna get recognized." He told me.

I nodded, then looked around at the walls full of guitars. Intimidating.
"Where do we start?" I asked.
"Follow me." He requested, pulling me by my jacket sleeve.

He pulled this guitar down, if I remembered anything from Joe Perry, it was a Fender Stratocaster.
"Why would he want this? It's wrecked." I whisper-shouted. The guitar had scratches and it's wood was showing. It looked like Pete Townsend got ahold of it.

"It's what he likes. It's antique or worn or whatever." Anthony shrugged.
"I can't afford this." I said, immediately after seeing the price.
"I can." He said smugly.
"Then what am I supposed to get him?" I asked.

"I don't think you get it, I'm buying this, you pretend you got it for him. I'll get him a strap or something. Maybe a record. Who's that artist he said he liked?" Anthony said, putting the guitar in my hands and wandering towards the guitar straps.

"The BeeGee's." I stared, holding the guitar as if it were a foreign object.
"Hm."
He grabbed a leather strap and inspected it for a moment, throwing it over his shoulder, then moving on to picks and Little things like that. He took a pack of picks and the leather strap and put it on the counter beside the register.

Anthony held his hand out for the guitar and I gladly returned it. He put it on the counter too and started looking for his money.
"Grab one of those cases." He told me with money in his mouth as he kept digging in his pockets.
"Those?" I pointed to the stack of Fender soft cases.
"Hard." He directed, pointing to the pile beside the soft cases.
I hesitated before walking over and picking one up.

"Anthony, this is way expensive." Told him, adding the case to the growing pile of items for John.
"I got it." He nodded, holding up a credit card.
"Whatever you say."

After Anthony had paid a ridiculous amount for everything, we put the guitar in the case, along with the strap and picks and brought it back to the cab and went back to the hotel.