"Hey man! How's it going?"
Jareth grinned at Travis as the door shut behind him. "Very well, thank you." He nodded at Travis's sales clerk, Derek, as he passed the register.
"Why you always so fuckin' formal? You gotta loosen up!"
"Criticism noted, Derek," Jareth responded, his grin fading, but not disappearing entirely.
"Not as loose as Derek, please. Because if people don't stop dropping f-bombs in here, I'm going to start issuing pink slips."
"Fuck you are," Derek said, laughing, just as a woman and her pre-teen son entered the store. He clammed up immediately and Jareth stifled a laugh at his expense.
"Excuse me," the woman said. "My son is interested in a CD? What was the name of it, sweetie?"
The boy blushed and mumbled.
"What was that?" Derek asked.
"Nimrod?" the boy asked.
"Green Day, right," Derek nodded and gave the boy a thumbs-up. "Right over here, my man." He led the two to the rock section and showed them where to find it.
"Now this doesn't have any swears in it, does it?" the woman asked.
"Mom!"
Jareth watched with interest as the mother and son interacted. There was something fascinating about the tension between the two and Jareth recognized it immediately. The son was trying to grow up and the mother wasn't quite ready to let him do that. The mother's eyes flicked over to Jareth and he looked away, knowing it was rude to stare.
"Fu... I mean," Derek caught himself, "Just a couple. Nothing too bad, though. And let's be real, they're gonna hear 'em somewhere, right?" he joked.
Jareth looked back at the woman and saw her eyes narrow.
Travis interrupted. "Derek, I need you in the back for a moment. Now." He turned to his customer, "So sorry - won't be a moment."
"Yeah, boss, ok." He looked at the woman. "Be right back."
The door closed behind them and the shouting began.
Jareth could hear Travis's muffled "If you ever lie to one of my customers again…" and cringed. He walked over to the mother and son.
"...but everyone has it!" the boy was saying.
The mother sighed, exasperated, "If everyone was jumping off a bridge…"
"Excuse me, madame?" Jareth interrupted, "Perhaps I can assist."
The woman waggled the CD in Jareth's face. "This is not appropriate for children!"
Jareth blinked and swallowed the anger he could feel swelling in his belly from such blatant disrespect.
"No," he agreed. Some things, he supposed, just weren't worth arguing over. "But he may enjoy this one just as much." Jareth moved a little further down the aisle of music and chose a CD, then handed it to her. "Same genre. No cursing."
The mother looked at her son. "What do you think?"
"I don't know them. Can I hear it first?"
"Yes!" the shout came from the back room as Travis burst out in a rush. "Yes, you can listen to anything you want. Here…" he pulled a set of headphones off the wall, then punched the number of the artist into the small keypad on the electronic device. He handed the headphones to the kid, then stood back."
The boy's expression moved from unsure, to surprised, and then he began to bob his head. A grin appeared on his face.
"Let me listen," his mother said, pulling the headphones off her son's head. The boy didn't protest. She listened for a moment, then said, "Well, it's not my thing, but I don't see anything wrong with it." She turned to Jareth, "Thank you."
"My pleasure," Jareth responded.
The woman blushed slightly, and looked at the floor.
"Can we help you with anything else," Travis asked.
"Just this, please."
Travis led the woman and her son to the counter and began to ring up the CD while Jareth went back to the platform at the front of the store, sat on his stool, and began to strum the guitar to ensure it was in tune. When he was comfortable with the tone, he began to play.
The woman and son turned to watch.
"Your receipt, ma'am?" Travis said.
"Oh, um…" the woman looked flustered. "Actually," she said, pointing a lazy finger at Jareth, "is that an original song, or a cover?"
"That's a cover."
"Can you show me what album it's on? I wouldn't mind having a copy."
"Right this way, ma'am."
"I'll just stay here and watch, if you wouldn't mind grabbing it for me."
"Not at all. CD or cassette?"
"CD, please."
The woman turned back to Jareth and Travis flashed him a grin and a thumbs-up from behind her."
Jareth smirked.
The woman paid and was finally dragged out of the store by her son, who seemed to feel uncomfortable with the way his mother was looking at Jareth.
Jareth finished the song and set the guitar down.
"You keep doing that and I'll start paying you a commission," Travis said.
"You keep doing that and your wife's gonna kick your ass out of the house," Derek said, sheepishly returning from the back room to sit on the stool behind the counter.
"I'm not married."
"Your old lady, then. Fuck's the difference?"
"He means your girlfriend," Travis said helpfully when Jareth merely looked confused. "Just let me know if the American slang gets to be too much."
"I get most of it from context, but I appreciate the offer. And there is no girlfriend, so there is no problem."
"Shit man, that's the way to live! No ball and chain. Just freedom to get all the strange you want."
Jareth looked at Travis expectantly.
"I'm not translating that," he said. "But I thought you said you lived with a woman."
"A roommate. Yes."
Derek perked up. "Riiight. Roommate with benefits, I bet. How'd you two meet, anyway? Chat room? When you got here, did she turn out to be a dog and now you're stuck? You gotta be careful with internet people, man. They'll fucking murder you as soon as look at you."
Jareth blinked at Derek.
"Derek, go organize the back room."
"But…" he began to argue.
"Go organize the back room or you're fired."
"Pff. Like you'd ever actually do it," Derek mumbled as he lumbered off to the back room.
"Interesting fellow," Jareth said.
"Sorry about that," Travis said. "He's not a bad guy. He's just an idiot."
There was a pause while Travis seemed to gather his thoughts. "How did you end up in the States, anyway… if it's not too personal a question."
"Long story," Jareth said. "Not worth telling. But I met my roommate just when things got very bad and she was gracious enough to help me. I'll be out of her hair in a couple of weeks when I get back on my feet. I believe the day cannot come fast enough for her."
"Well, keep doing what you did today and you'll be golden in no time. What you did just now with that lady and her kid? That was awesome! It's exactly what I hoped would happen having you here. We need to expose people to new music in order to get them to buy, but it's an uphill battle. Most people only want what they hear on the radio and more and more of them are downloading it for free off the internet. Those two CDs you just sold would have probably sat on the shelf for months until I marked them down below wholesale and sold them for a loss."
"I'm pleased I could help."
Travis began shuffling the papers on the counter.
"Can a customer really listen to any album in the store?"
"Sure. We always load a copy into the electronic system so we can play them over the PA or the customer can use the headphones on the wall."
"May I…?"
"Sure. Just keep it clean so you don't offend the customers. That woman? Pretty typical of our clientele. Here…" Travis beckoned Jareth behind the counter. "Each album is assigned a four-digit code, which is cataloged here." He pulled out a binder. "Look up the album you want, punch in the code, and then…" Music started playing over the store's PA.
Jareth listened and grinned, then leaned over and punched in a different code. When the music began playing, he laughed.
"You really dig all this stuff, huh?" Travis asked.
"I do."
"What's your favorite?"
"I don't have a favorite."
"Ok, so… what don't you like?"
"Musically?" Jareth though. "Nothing comes to mind."
"Nobody likes everything," Travis said.
Jareth shrugged.
"Hip hop?" Travis asked.
"Sure."
"Country?"
"Why not?"
"That's pretty unusual. Most people can stand only one or the other."
"Not me."
"Broadway showtunes?"
"Very entertaining."
"Interesting. Tell you what? I offer a thirty percent discount to employees. Your roommate sounds like good people, so I'll give her the same discount if you want. Decent people are rare."
"I'll be sure to let her know, but I doubt she'll use it."
"Why not?"
"She can't stand it. Always turns the stereo off when she gets home."
"So you love all of it and she doesn't like any of it? How have you two not killed each other yet?"
"Give us time," Jareth said, and grinned.
Customers came and went from the record store, stopping to listen to Jareth, chat with Travis or Derek, and sometimes even to purchase a record. They captured Jareth's attention for a few minutes before moving on, but Travis's words stayed with Jareth the rest of the day. Your roommate sounds like good people.
Sarah was good people. She was doing a lot for him, and he had done nothing for her. The thought nagged at him. Even his pathetic attempt at cleaning her home had ended in more work for her. He didn't feel guilty about it exactly - it was her mess, after all - but he did feel as if he were in her debt, and it bothered him.
He left the record store minutes before closing and walked down Main St. A glance to his left showed him the dog painting was still in the window of Village Thrift and he smiled at seeing it again. The idea came to him in an instant.
"Hey Jareth!" the clerk said as Jareth entered the store. "How's things at the record store? They treating you right over there?"
"Very well, thank you."
"Well, no hard feelings, of course. Come back whenever. It's nice to have you around, you know?"
Jareth smiled politely and nodded. "I'd like to purchase that painting," he said, pointing at the window display.
"What? 'A Friend in Need?'"
"Is that what it's called?" Jareth laughed. Loudly. "Brilliant!"
The clerk smiled hesitantly, then climbed into the window display to pull the painting down. "Forty dollars," he said.
"I'll give you fifteen," Jareth countered.
"I don't set the prices, man."
"And the layer of dust on the frame suggests that the person who does set this price entirely too high. I'll give you fifteen."
The clerk ran his finger over the top of the frame and grimaced at the layer of dust stuck to his finger. "Good point. But you gotta work with me, man. Ed's already pissed off that everyone's going to Granny's instead of coming here."
"I'll give you twenty and you can tell Ed I bought it on half-price day."
"Paintings don't qualify for…"
"Will he be angry that you sold it for half price or happy that it sold at all?"
The clerk looked thoughtful for a moment, then accepted Jareth's money.
Sarah was cooking when Jareth arrived home. He set the painting against the wall by the front door and joined Sarah in the kitchen.
"That smells delicious," he said, looking into the pan.
"I got paid!" Sarah said happily. "So I'm celebrating with ground beef."
"And onions," Jareth added. "And garlic." He'd been paying attention during Sarah's cooking lessons.
"Exactly."
"Salt and pepper?"
"Always. I think you're going to like this. When this is cooked, I'm going to add that." She pointed at a can of baked beans.
Jareth made a face. "Beans."
"Being paid and being rich are two different things, Jareth, and I still have a budget to keep. Just wait and see. This is going to surprise you."
She finished the meal, dished out two bowls, and brought them to the table.
"Don't make that face," she said. "Or go ahead and make the face, I guess, but try the food before you get all judgy."
Jareth knew enough to hold back the nasty comment on the tip of his tongue. That was getting easier, at least. But the beans and beef looked fit for pigs, and he was not eager to try it.
Sarah ignored him and started eating.
Slowly and with great hesitation, Jareth lifted his to his lips and tried the concoction. The texture of soft beans mingled with chewy morsels of ground beef did not immediately agree with him, but the sweetness of the sauce surprised him and he found that the taste of the garlic and onions worked well with it. He chewed, becoming accustomed to the texture of the food, then swallowed. He took another bite.
Yes, he could get used to this.
"You have the most fascinating expressions," Sarah said.
Jareth looked up from his dish and realized Sarah was watching him closely.
"Pardon?"
"Let me guess your emotions. Ok, in order: uncertainty, disgust, surprise, uncertainty again, acceptance, and finally enjoyment."
He raised an eyebrow and she smiled.
"Watching you is like reading a novel," she said and turned her attention back to her food.
He returned her smile, feeling warm at the idea that she liked watching him.
"I bought something for you," he said, feeling generous.
Sarah furrowed her brow. "You did?"
Jareth stood and crossed the room to pick up the painting. He turned it around so Sarah could see.
Her face, first curious, quickly changed to something unreadable, but not altogether positive.
"You bought that for me?"
"It can hang over here," he said, holding the painting against the wall over the TV.
"Oh, wow… I don't know…"
"Sarah," he said seriously, "look." He described the painting to her in great detail, finishing by pointing out that one Bulldog was helping the other cheat. "A friend in need!" he finished, laughing.
"Yes, very droll," she said, her pained smile not reaching her eyes.
"It is!" Jareth heartily agreed. He handed the painting to her.
"But did you buy it for me? Or did you buy it for you?" she asked, taking it from him and inspecting it more closely.
"What do you mean?" he asked, his face falling slightly.
"What made you see this painting and think of me?"
"It's funny."
"Ok, but that, um, statement isn't about me. It's about the painting. And it's also not a fact, it's an opinion."
His smile disappeared entirely.
"Ok, so I'm flattered that you thought of me when you bought this. I think it's sweet that you wanted to do something nice for me., but I think you bought this for yourself, not for me."
Jareth started to protest, but she cut him off.
"Think about it for a second. Why did you think I would like it?"
She waited a second, but he did not answer.
"The fact that you like it, right?" She didn't wait for a response this time. "And it's ok that you like it, but it's not my taste. A gift is about what the recipient wants, not what the giver wants. Does that make sense?"
"Perfect sense," Jareth said, taking the painting from Sarah's hands. "It is the giver's responsibility to ensure that the gift is desired by the recipient."
"Basically, yeah."
"And the recipient may accept or reject the gift out of hand with no regard to the feelings of the giver."
Sarah's face fell and she blushed with shame. "Oh, come on, Jareth. Don't be like that."
"You were very clear. Thank you for the lesson. I'll ensure you never see this again." He looked around the room, but found nowhere to retreat. Finally, he took the painting into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
Sarah sat back down at the table, staring at the closed bathroom door. She tried finishing her food, but the meal had lost what little appeal it had to start with. After a while, she began pacing the hallway, half hoping to hear what Jareth was doing in the bathroom, half mortified by her first half. Finally, unable to stand the tension any longer, she knocked.
"Occupied," came the firm reply.
"Come on, Jareth. It's not that big a deal."
No response. Her irritation rose. She had to be away from here. Away from him.
"Ok. Look, I'm going to go out for a little bit. I'll be back later, ok?"
Again, no response.
Sarah sighed, then grabbed her coat and left.