AN: I derived the name of this story from a music store called Music Curiosities. It's a pretty damn good music store…

Guitar Curiosities

Guitar curiosities: the best quality and best product guitar store in Melbourne. And I worked at it. Of course, I loved nearly all things musical so I was one of the best places to work if you were like me. I pushed on the glass door and entered the heat of the shop. Slipping out of my dark grey coat, I hung it up in a hook and pulled off my red knit beanie.

"Hey, Lauren. Having a good Monday morning?" Damien – my co-worker – asked.

"No," I replied. "Monday mornings are shit. Ugh, the only thing that would make this day better would be a new guitar. And I know I'm not going to get another one any time soon." I moved to my spot behind the guitar sales counter and dropped into the chair.

"Oh, by the way Jerry" – the owner of the store – "found a second-hand Yamaha that you might like. He said it's out back and to look at it after your shift." My mood lightened a teeny bit.

"Thanks. Colour?"

"Uh…red tartan. A bit strange but it looks pretty cool."

"How old?"

"It was made in 2002 but it has only had one owner. Jerry was just going to turf it."

"Case?"

"Black fabric with a shoulder strap and handle flappy thing." Just when I thought Damien was getting his music knowledge up to scratch, he completely failed me.

"Well I'll take a look at it later. How much does Jerry want for it?" Damien thought for a moment.

"He said around one hundred. Told me he needed to take another look at it though, so it may be around eighty." My mood had definitely lightened. One hundred dollars was what I earnt for two days work. Perfect. A customer walked through the door and I fell quiet. They weren't going to hear of the great bargain that I was about to make.

"Hey," I said cheerily, noticing Damien had disappeared. I hated being alone with customers. Especially this one.

"Hi," he replied. "You got any Fender's here?" I thought for a second, moving out from behind my counter. I motioned for him to follow me and walked towards the back of the shop.

"Okay, well, you've got the two up here," – I pointed to the two hanging on the wall – "or you've got these three," I said, gesturing to the three on the stands.

"This it?" They guy asked, looking slightly smug.

"For now. We're getting a few more in on Wednesday so if you want to come back then…" He looked sceptically at one of the guitars on the stand and picked it up.

"Can I try it out?" I nodded.

"Sure. Need a pick?" He dug around in his pockets, producing a black and white plectrum. He grinned and slung the strap over his shoulder. Running his hand over the neck, he nodded once, his fingers moving to play a few chords. Instead of just strumming like I thought he would, he tore out the solo from Teenagers by My Chemical Romance. My jaw dropped, eyes fixed on his fingers as they nimbly skimmed across the fret board. He grinned and finished his performance.

"Woah…" I breathed. "That was fucking awesome. How the heck did you do that?"

"I picked up a few things from my friend Ray."

"Well Ray sounds like a pretty cool guy."

"He sure is. I think I'll take this one," he said, holding up the guitar. I took him back to the counter and lay the guitar against the edge.

"Okay, we have a little problem with this one," I said, checking in the oversized, dusty order book. "We have to put this on hold because of limited stock so we'll be able to get it to you about Wednesday afternoon. It's pay now, get later kind of thing. Is that okay?" He screwed his mouth to one side and squinted – thinking.

"Yeah, I'm going back to America on Thursday. Should be okay."

"Oh, right. Didn't pick up the accent. So I'll just have to get your name and mobile number," I replied, pen poised.

"Name's Frank. I can't give you my number though. I'll just come at five on Wednesday, 'kay?" he grinned.

"Okay, Frank. I guess. Would you rather pay with cash or with a credit card?"

"Cash."

"That will be $223." He dug out a few notes from his wallet. A coin slid from the zipper and dropped to the floor, making a tinny noise. Frank bent down to retrieve it. His checked scarf slid down his neck, revealing a scorpion tattoo.

"Hey, nice tattoo," I commented. He stood bolt upright, shoving the scarf back over the marking.

"Uh, thanks. Okay, $223. Keep the change; think of it as a tip." I grinned and printed a receipt. He took it from my fingers and turned for the door.

"Thanks…uh…."

"Lauren."

"Thanks Lauren. I'll be back on Wednesday. Oh, and don't tell anyone I was here. Please." He flashed me another pure white smile and from behind his dark Ray Bans, I saw his eye drop into a wink. Frank pulled on the door, entering the bitter cold wind. He turned and continued on his way.

"Hey, who was that?" Damien asked, coming in from the back room.

"Oh…just a customer. You know…music enthusiast," I stammered, running a hand through my loose hair.

"Hmm. Well, okay. Hey, did you know My Chemical Romance were in town?"

"Really? Weird. I hadn't heard…" Wait a second. Frank? Ray? Freaking awesome Teenager's solo? America? Tattoo on the neck?

"Hey, Lauren, are you okay? You look really pale…" Damien sounded concerned, moving over towards me.

"I'm…I'm fine. It's okay…I think." Shit. I had just served Frank Iero. The Frank Iero. Double shit. I shook my head back and forth. Frank Iero, Frank Iero, Frank fucking Iero.

"Well, you look star-struck. Like some famous guy just swooped by our little shop and asked to buy a guitar." He snorted.

"Took the words right out of my mouth," I muttered, so quiet that only I could hear.

"Anyway, I'm off to get some coffee. Will you be okay for a few minutes, chickadee?" Chickadee? Man, I was seriously beginning to think he was batting for the other team. I nodded, hiding my laugh behind a curtain of hair. He made his way outside, braving the elements. The shop was so empty with Damien gone that I flicked on the ancient radio, tuning it into The Fox. Eventually, I got really bored and decided to see how much of a tip Frank had actually given me. I counted the notes: $100, $100, $20, $10, $100, and $50. Well, damn. Sure, Frank'd paid the $230 for the guitar but he'd also given me $150 tip. I shoved the two notes into my pocket as Damien came back into the shop. He handed me a white Styrofoam cup, steaming and hot. As I brought it to my lips and was about to take a sip, two men and a woman burst into the shop. I jumped, spilling all the coffee over me. One of the men had a news camera on one shoulder and the other was a photographer, snapping every inch of the shop.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" Damien shouted.

"I am Shelley Simmons from Fox8 Celebrity News. We are in the store Guitar Curiosities where Frank Iero from My Chemical Romance was spotted emerging from only minutes ago," Shelley exclaimed. "Ma'am, did you serve the famous Frank Iero?" she asked, holding a microphone up to my lips.

"W-what? No! I-I don't think I did…" I stammered. Damien stood behind his counter, looking shocked and slightly amused. Suddenly, there were screams erupting from outside the door. Fans were piled up against the windows, holding signs and screaming for My Chemical Romance.

"Jerry isn't gonna be happy about this! He just cleaned the windows!" Damien exclaimed. The camera guy moved right up to me, getting a clear view of my face. The photographer took a few photos too.

"It is believed that this young woman was sworn to secrecy about the star's appearance. A money bribe may also have been involved. Tell me, how much were you given?"

"I wasn't given anything! He wasn't even here!" I protested, getting annoyed.

"Now, dear. We all know he was in this very shop. You can tell us anything." Shelley gave me a wink.

"He wasn't here! Stop pissing me off and go away!" I shouted over the screaming fans. Shelley looked a little taken aback and signalled for her camera man and her photographer to leave. I made obscene gestures at their backs as they entered the throng.

"Shit…" Damien said, eyes wide.

"My Chemical Romance!!!!" Great, the fans hadn't gone. I strode over to the windows and attempted to shoo them away.

"Oh my God! She's the girl that served Frank!" someone screamed. They started to pile into the shop, flooding around me like water.

"Hey! Hey!" I yelled. "Go away! Damien! DAMIEN!" He met my eyes. "Some help please!" He thought for a moment but then seemed to come up with a brilliant idea.

"Did you get to talk to him?"

"What was he wearing?"

"Did you get to touch him?"

"What did he smell like?" That question weirded me out a little. I was silent as the torrent of endless queries flew at me from all sides. Suddenly, a high pitched shriek pierced the air. It was so loud that everyone's hands flew to their ears.

"Alright!" I heard Damien shout. "Everybody out before I call the police!" There were a few grunts and groans but eventually – after another not-so-appropriate threat from Damien – they all piled out the door.

"What the hell was that all about?!" Damien exclaimed, staring at me accusingly.

"I have no…clue. They just…I don't know…" I replied, out of breath.

"Frank Iero was here, wasn't he?"

"What? No. If…Frank Iero were…here, I would know. Believe me…" He gave me a doubtful look.

"Okay, I believe you. By the way, you have coffee all over you." I looked down at myself and sure enough, there was a light brown patch running from the bottom of my t-shirt to my black skinny jeans.

"Ah, crap," I muttered.

"Ah, crap is right Lauren. Because you're on the news," Damien said, beckoning me over. There was a small TV in the corner of the shop, which – thankfully – had Foxtel. He had gravitated towards it, watching something intently.

"I am Shelley Simmons from Fox8 Celebrity News…" The camera turned to see a very startled me. Shelley began to talk to me. I looked ridiculous; like a deer caught in headlights.

"I can't take this…" I moaned, returning to my counter.

"Face it, honey. You're temporarily famous."

Wednesday Afternoon

Frank was supposed to be coming in approximately three minutes to pick up his guitar. I was almost dreading the meeting; I couldn't handle any more media. Three other celebrity news channels had visited since the Monday and I was seriously fed up. At exactly five on the dot, a man wearing a beanie and sunglasses walked in. I could tell instantly that it wasn't Frank.

"Uh…you Lauren?" he asked me gruffly.

"Yes. I am. Who are you?" The man seemed to relax a little.

"I'm here on behalf of Frank to pick up his guitar."

"Okay, but who are you?" I reached underneath the counter for my order book.

"Ray."

"Ray who?"

"Ray."

"Ray Toro, right?" He nodded. "Well, shit. Okay, I'll get his guitar." I ducked to the storeroom and pulled out Frank's guitar, returning a second later. Handing Ray the guitar, I saw his apprehension as I got closer.

"Don't worry," I said, smiling. "I'm not gonna go crazy-fan on you." Ray relaxed and handed me something.

"It's from Frank," he said. "He made me swear I wouldn't read it." I took the package from his fingers and held it gently. "Well, thanks Lauren. See ya round." He turned from me and walked to the door.

"Oh, and please – "

"Don't tell anybody you were here. Gotcha." He grinned and pulled on the door, leaving me alone in the shop. Sitting back down at my counter, I inspected the package. It was of small size and had an envelope attached to the top. I opened the envelope first, finding a slip of paper.

Sorry I couldn't come to get my guitar. Gerard wouldn't let me outside after what happened. He's a mean ass sometimes.

It read.

Sorry 'bout all the media and paparazzi. I saw you on the Fox8 Celebrity News thing. You had coffee covering you. Just thought I'd let you know. Thanks for not telling. I owe you one.

Frank.

I grinned and folded the letter back into the envelope. I turned over the package and carefully opened it. It was a black box with My Chemical Romance's signatures scrawled over it in white marker. I opened it gently and gazed in awe at the contents. There were three plectrums, a signed poster and two wristbands. There was another note inside so I tugged it out and opened it.

One of the picks is Mikey's one Ray's and one mine. The poster is from our Salt Lake City show. One of the wristbands is Gerard's and the other is Bob's. We all wanted to put in for you not spilling to the media. Thanks again.

I placed the lid back on the box and put it under the counter. Damien came in from his lunch break and smiled at me.

"Hey. I bumped into this strange guy like, two minutes ago. He had this afro sticking out the bottom of his beanie," he said.

"Hmm, really? Weird. Did he say anything?"

"Mm…he said something like 'You're that kid from the news' and walked off." Damien looked honestly perplexed.

"It's okay Damien. I think everyone knows who we are now."

"Yeah, and he looked like Ray from My Chemical Romance…"

"Really? That's strange. Well I'm going to get some lunch. Back soon." I walked forward, scooting round him to the coat rack. I pulled on my grey coat and tugged my beanie over my hair. Waving goodbye to Damien, I entered the slightly busy street. I'd met Frank and Ray from My Chemical Romance. Me. Lauren from Melbourne who barely had ten dollars in her wallet. Now I really loved my job; considering meeting two incredibly talented musicians came of it. One day I would thank Jerry. But for now, I was set on the idea of getting through the day without any unwanted attention. Maybe Shaun Diviney or Brian May would rock up to the store. Who knows?