"I'm here for a piano."
"Then why do you have a gun?"
Stuart blinked in confusion at the cool grey barrel pointed at him before lifting clear blue eyes to the man in front of him. The appearance of a gun seemed kind of odd, people had come in and paid with fake bills before, tried to trade in other keyboards and even tried to give him an IOU. However, no one had ever attempted to pay with a gun before. Well, every day was a first!
Stu gave one last glance at the weapon before letting a sympathetic smile spread across his face, quickly choosing to use the same tactic as he would with people that tried to pay with their old keyboards, "Sir, I'm afraid we don't do trades, but there's a pawn shop down the street if you wanted to come back with cash."
The man's eyes widened and he paused for a moment. Par for the course, no customer took well to not getting their way. Some people just didn't take bad news well!
"If you could point out the keyboard you wanted, I could tell you how much you'd need for it?" The store was small but filled to the brim with keyboards, so it was always good to nail down a customer on what they wanted. They covered every inch of the baby blue walls, more popular ones actually set up with stands on the perimeter for customers to try out. It was usually meaningless noise from teens that came in from the mini mall across the street. There were no actual price tags on any of the keyboards, which sucked for Stu, who had to look up the price of each instrument as there was no way he'd remember them all. The carpet, his favorite feature of the store, was a tan shag, left over from whatever store preceded them (Stu thought it was probably a beanbag store, the shag just made him think of beanbags!), and was filthy from all the dirt and mud tracked in from customers, coming into the store. Technically, it was his job to vacuum, but no one had taught him how.
"I mean, the price book is right here behind the counter, if you tell me the model you're looking for I can just give you-"
"I'm not looking to BUY a piano!" The man cut off, all the surprise melting off his face and forming itself into rage.
"Oh!" Well, that wasn't so odd either!, "Yeah, no problem, I mean people come in to test stuff out all the time!" Stu gave a little smirk and winked at the man, "Technically, I'm supposed to give you a little sales pitch, but it's slow today so how about you just tell me what you're looking for!"
"I'm looking," The man jerked wildly across the counter separating them, surprising Stu, and the barrel jabbed him between the ribs real hard. The man's shaggy black hair swept off his forehead with the movement, revealing a collection of circle shaped scars, piercing brown eyes and… a rim of red surrounding the iris of the left one. His nose was crooked, bumpy and had more sharp angles than Stu had ever seen on a nose and his thin cracked lips were twisted in a snarl. As a matter of fact, now that Stu was less distracted by the man's odd features, the entire face looked kind of mad, "I'm robbing you, moron!" The words though angry, were hissed. His voice was very nice though. Kind of a deep growl that settled into the bottom of your stomach, and he had a weird musky smell, like he hadn't showered in a while but instead let the smells of the city soak into him. Stuart mildly wondered if the smell had also soaked into the man's olive skin, bronzed and sun baked, he still looked really soft and-
Wait.
"Well, shit-shoot!" Stu closed his eyes in frustration, "I'm not supposed to cuss in front of customers."
The man growled, "I'm not a customer."
"I know," Stu still kept his eyes closed, "I should still practice."
"Alright," The man shifted back to his side of the counter and the gun barrel lowered to rest on the edge of the counter, still pointing at Stu, "Get a move on."
"Wait!" The outburst jerked the stranger back and Stu threw up his hands, looking around wildly, "There's something I'm supposed to be doing!"
"Getting me pianos."
"No!" Collapsing forward onto the desk, long fingers clenched in his blue locks and gnawing at his lower lip furiously, Stu's pin striped short sleeve bunched up around his shoulders as he set to moaning in pain, "There's a thing I'm supposed to do if we get a ROBBERY!" The last word was torn up by another wave of pain from his head.
The man now looked much less sure of himself, "Are you okay? You're not faking are you?" The last part was said with not a lot of conviction.
"Headaches, I signed something when I started working here and it had info on what to dooooooooooo…" He rubbed a hand over his face before straightening up, "I should call the manager."
"WHAT?"
"Yeah, if I can't remember what to do he said to just call him… I have the number memorized hold on a sec-"
"You're not calling anyone!" The robber looked like he was about to lurch forward again.
"Yeah, no, it's cool, I think that was the thing I was supposed to do anyway," Stu reached for the phone, "Either that or fight you off, so we'll start with this one-"
He had just managed to actually pick up the receiver when a callused hand reached over, snatched it out of his grip, the force of which actually broke the plug.
"If you call the manager," The man spoke slowly, expressive eye contact maintained and Stu's stomach fluttered, "They'll call the police." Every word was punctuated with a shake of the teal green receiver.
"Maybe I should've called the police." He mused.
"I would have shot you."
Stu's eyes widened, "You'd shoot me?!"
"Y'know what, I will if you don't get me those damn pianos." For the first time, the gun was waved around and while the man didn't look unhinged, Stu still thought that probably wasn't good gun care.
"Keyboards." Stu corrected.
"Keyboards." The man agreed.
"Well, which one did you want."
The man huffed angrily, "As many as I can carry!"
Stu frowned, "How many keyboards can you carry?"
"I don't know, I'll stack them!" The man snapped.
"I don't think that's good."
"It's fine!"
"What if they slip?" Stu fidgeted nervously behind the counter, "I don't want you taking them all out only to break them!"
"What do you care?" The man growled.
Stu shrugged, "I like 'em."
A contemplative look crossed his face, "Oh." The look disappeared.
"Why do you need so many keyboards anyway?"
"I'm starting a band!" For the first time since the dark man had walked into the store, he looked happy (well, smug).
Stu took his turn leaning across the counter, "An all keyboard band?! That sounds amazing!"
His face got angry again, "No, dumbass, ONE keyboard player! I play bass, someone else will play drums, we'll get a guitar player and there will be ONE keyboard player!" He shook his head.
"Oh," Stu smiled, "That makes much more sense," In the next moment he swung around the counter, "Then you'll probably only need 1 or 2 keyboards."
The man gaped at the lanky teen coming around the corner, jerked the gun once more at him, looked at his sunny face, before sighing and tucking the cold metal in the back of his jeans. This wasn't working.
"Fine, yeah, whatever," He scratched at the nape of his neck, his biceps flexing and Stu smiled again, "Any recommendations?"
3 short steps later Stu was in front of a matte black keyboard complete with a dizzying array of buttons and knobs, eyes twinkling, "This is my personal favorite," He turned from the criminal and ran a loving hand along the keys, "Superior sound quality, perfect for any musical piece that you want to put a lot of emphasis on the keyboard. However, if you want the spotlight on someone else, like, perhaps, the bassist," Stu sent another wink at the man (whos cheeks seemed to darken for a moment), before twirling back around and striding over to a smaller and less ornate keyboard, this one glossy black and with a much more manageable display, "This one still has incredible sound quality, but obviously it's not the flashiest. Now, they're both Casio, my preferred brand, and I can personally attest to how great they are, I own both models myself!" He beamed at the admission.
"Huh," The man paused, "You play?"
"Yeah!" Stu perked up even more if possible, "It's the only reason I got this job! My Da says it's the only thing I'm good at."
The man chuckled, "I definitely relate to that."
"To what?"
"Asshole dads."
Stuart frowned, "My dads not an ass-" He paused.
"Wait. OH… I guess that's not a very nice thing of him to say… though it does sound good, doesn't it?"
It got quiet for a bit, as it does with all life changing realizations, broken only by the man clearing his throat.
"Well, at least you're good at something. So, do you have a band?" The man leaned a little closer to Stu and tried to feign nonchalance, "Cuz I've had plenty." He tried to lean against the wall, aborting the move after breaking a button off one of the pianos.
"Oh, really? I'm super into the local music scene, maybe I've seen you!" Stu shivered at the thought of meeting a star, "Name one!"
The man puffed out his chest, "Murdoc's Burning Sensations."
"So, you're Murdoc?" The man stiffened all of a sudden, but Stu trecked on, unnoticing, "I think I've actually seen you guys! A couple summers ago, yeah? I snuck into Billings Pub to see you, it was great!" Stu frowned, "But didn't your drummer bite someone's nose off."
There's another moment of silence where the man (Murdoc) stares at Stu, breathing heavily. Finally, he clears his throat.
"Ear. And yeah, Andy's still in jail. 'Hear he's getting help though."
Stu lets another small smile slip through, "Good for him. So, you got a new band?" He reached down and picked up the broken button off the floor, the movement bringing his head at crotch level with Murdoc, who shifted his weight to the other foot.
"I will."
Stu fiddled with the button, "You got anyone lined up?"
Murdoc coughs and averts his eyes, "No one I know plays an instrument… or isn't in jail… or doesn't hate me."
"Really?" Stu ventures, "Not even your girlfriend?" Stupid question.
Murdoc's bushy eyebrows furrow, "I'm single."
A wide grin spreads across Stuart's face, "Cool, so no keyboardist yet then? Cuz I may no someone who's interested."
After a beat, Murdoc's eyes narrow in realization. "I'm robbing you, and you're trying to get in a band with me?"
"It's perfect! I have so much spare time, when I'm not here I'm not doing anything, and I only work 56 hours a week!" Murdoc winces at that, "Plus, I've never gotten to actually play with someone before!"
Murdoc shuffles, "I don't think a full time job and a traveling gig are going to go together. I'm planning on moving to a better location, this town is kind of dead." He crosses his arms defensively, finally reaching to adjust the gun still in his waistband. It was starting to dig into his ass.
"Great, I hate it here!" He throws up his hands in excitement.
Murdoc frowns, "So, what, you're going to help me rob your own store."
"No, I said I already own the keyboards! Isn't that beautiful?"
A contemplative hum, "A band that isn't torn apart by a prior arrest warrant," Murdoc's eyes widened and a slow smile spread across his face, "It could just work!"
The pair spent a moment beaming at each other, before Stu reached over and squeezed his new band member's arm. Murdoc only flinched a little at the movement, and his smile was soon regained. After a longer moment, Stu pulled back and stuck his hands in his pockets.
"If we're going to do this, we should leave now," He gestured up to the ceiling, "Norm has security cameras and I'll probably get fired either way for letting a criminal stay in here so long."
The olive toned man whipped around to see a blinking red line and a lens.
"Well, fuck."