notaskingpermission

Verity had never had a job before, and truthfully the city provided enough that she didn't technically need to it. But she wanted one. She wanted to feel normal. Finishing high school here, even if it might be pointless, helped, but she'd be graduating soon and then she didn't know what she was going to do. If she was going to college she probably needed more money than the city gave her, or maybe there was some version of FAFSA here, she had no idea. She'd look into eventually. For now a retail job sounded good.

Plus, Marcus' apartment was sparse as fuck, so if she had some extra spending money she could make it feel homier.

They'd told her casual dress was fine, but Verity still wore her best pair of jeans (the black ones without rips) paired with a faded Fleetwood Mac shirt she'd found at the thrift store, because wearing a band shirt while working at a record store made sense in her mind. She wasn't exactly a huge Fleetwood Mac fan, but so far it had been the only band shirt she'd found in Darrow that belonged to a band she actually recognized the name of.

She was supposed to be trained today, though she wasn't sure by who, so when she walked into Phoenix Records she looked for someone authoritative.

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Upstairs in the loft space where we kept the DVDs and other odds and ends, I leaned against the railing as I watched her walk in, standing awkwardly on the floor, her eyes scanning for somebody who looked important enough to be her boss.

When the schedules were made last week, I groaned and rolled my eyes when I saw that I was on to train a new cashier, but then I recognized the name, and it didn't seem quite so terrible. I mean, how many fucking Veritys could there possibly be in the world? It wasn't like we were friends, really, but I liked her. She was cool enough, funny and not pretentious or annoying or fake-nice or stupid or any of the other bullshit that might immediately make me hate a person. So, having her around probably wouldn't be so bad.

After she walked in, I let her suffer for a minute before taking pity on her. "Hey, new girl," I called down, smirking as she turned toward my voice.

Edited 2018-05-24 03:00 (UTC)

Verity was about to go knock on Mr. Saverin's door when someone called to her from upstairs. She looked up and quirked an eyebrow. "You?"

If only she'd known ahead of time, she would have brought a bag of licorice. Or nuts.

"So does Saverin know he's queering this place up, or is it just a happy coincidence?" she asked with a smirk of her own, climbing the stairs at a relaxed pace to join him. He was probably also her boss, then, or at least had some say, so maybe she should watch her mouth. Unfortunately she was kind of bad at that.

I gave her a look, arching a brow right back at her. Obviously, it said. I was ready to give her a hard time, but she kept running her mouth and it was enough of a shock that I had to shallow down a bark of laughter.

Okay, yeah, she was definitely going to be fun.

"I dunno, I think he gets a tax break for it," I shrugged, one corner of my mouth just barely twitching with amusement as she joined me up in the loft.

"Oh right. Diversity hires," Verity quips, leaning back against the railing. "I guess Darrow isn't too different from my world after all."

"So how long have you been working here?" she asks, wondering if he's a manager or just a long-time employee. But mostly now she's wondering what kind of music he likes.

"Couple years," I shrugged, "It's fuckin' boring, most days, but Saverin's a decent boss. Most of the people who come through aren't total assholes."

Stepping away from the railing, I gestured for her to follow.

"Come on, I'll show you around."

"I don't mind boring," Verity says. Honestly, she could use a little boring in her life, considering the situation she came here from, and all the weird shit this place has thrown at her since.

She follows him, giving the store layout a closer look as they walk.

"Seems like a cool store, even if I don't recognize half the bands."

"It's a mix. There's a lot of shit from here, most of it's like... mediocre, at best, but you can find stuff from, you know, back home or whatever," I shrugged, leading her back down onto the main floor. "Mostly older shit. Seventies, eighties."

Walking towards the computers at the front, I tell her, "You'll get asked about bands you've never heard of in your life, but we keep the database updated, so you can find everything on the floor through a inventory search. I'll go over that later."

I knew fuck all about computers when I got here, and it was easy enough to learn, so I figure she'll be fine.

"Not a problem, I like those eras," Verity says, though with how weird Darrow is she can't be sure they're from the same or even similar worlds, but from him just saying 'seventies and eighties' she assumes there's a good chance they are. "Sixties, too. Zeppelin and Bowie, Depeche Mode, The Cure."

"Okay," she says easily, not worried about it. She's good with computers, and she has a pretty good memory. Plus she's curious as hell about these new, other bands. At least the non-mediocre ones.

"Jesus. You know, a friend of mind had Disintegration stuck in his tape deck like, the whole time I knew him. It was just on a loop, fucking constantly. I mean, it's a great fuckin' album, but Robert Smith's voice sets my fucking teeth on edge now," I admitted with a snort of laughter.

Truthfully, I thought about Preston with a pang of nostalgia, and I wouldn't have minded hearing those songs again. He'd been gone for too long.

"Come on, I'll show you the back."

Verity snickers, and says, "At that point I'd call it a lose and keep the radio off." She's of the generation that doesn't have tape decks in cars anymore, not unless you have a real old clunker, but that happened to a cd in her aunt's car once. She got it fixed, though.

"Sure," she says, following him. "So, if you've worked here a few years, how long have you actually been in Darrow?"

"It got to be kind of a thing. I think he thought it was fucking funny," I snorted, one corner of my mouth twitching into an almost affectionate smile. Christ, that was one ugly fucking car, but there were actually a lot of pretty decent memories tied to it.

"A little over three. There was, uh. There was another version of me here, before that. The boss and his wife actually knew him. It's weird, we don't really talk about it."

"...That is weird," Verity says, her steps slowing for a moment. She hasn't heard of that happening yet. Sometimes it feels like she discovers a new, crazy thing about Darrow every week.

"Hey, if a different me shows up, make up some crazy stories about stuff I did and try to make her believe they're true," she adds with a grin, hurrying to fall back into step next to him.

for Neil

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