Two Runaways

“Heya big boy, want someone ta rattle ya bones?” shouted a harlot across the street from me. I didn’t know how to respond to such vernacular so I readily left the area, and by left I mean bolted faster than the speed of light. This was the third time this had happened since I landed on earth two hours ago and I must say, though this region has generally disappointed me thus far, at least I’m getting in a lot of cardio. I stopped to catch my breath after a few blocks. Why I thought I would find a place that shared my interest in music in a district renowned for gambling and smuggling is beyond me. I took a look around at my surroundings while I waited for my lungs to regain their composure. There were faded signs on every building advertising something called a “Casino” and harlots on every corner, some of whom looked like they were a bit too fond of illicit substances for their own good. As soon as I’d decided to start walking again, a hooded man approached me and offered me some such substances, which I obviously declined by backing away slowly and running again. My god, what even is this place? When will a man find any peace on this forsaken planet? As I advanced down the streets, charlatans everywhere I look, I come across a small building emblazoned with “Music Antiquities” in a lighted curling font. Below hangs a fraying sign, clearly made of a cheap plasticy material, reading “The best (and only) antique music store in Vegas.” Figuring that it was probably safer inside, I quickly ducked in before anyone could approach me again.
“Welcome to Mike’s Music Antiquities, how can I help you?” said the man behind the counter, who looked about the same age as me.

“Oh, I’m just trying to escape…everything,” I said, gesturing to all that is around me, which made him laugh.

“You’re not from around here are you? Don’t worry, I was pretty overwhelmed when I first moved out here too. Just take your time looking around and try to find your happy place, dude,” he said with a warm smile. I swear to God, he must be the first sane person I’ve met on this damned planet.

“Thank you.” I sighed in relief as I walked past him to look at a display of an old local band called Falling In Reverse. Why this band was falling, especially in reverse, was beyond me; maybe gravity is decreased when you have that much hair and leather. Perhaps the pictures their skin is adorned with gives them this special ability of falling in reverse? Cause wouldn’t that be like flying? I don’t know but I’m sure they didn’t put this much thought into it.

“So, what brings you to Vegas, uh, what’s your name?” the man asked.

“Jeremy,” I started.

“Great to meet you, I’m Jake.”

“The details for why I’m here are, well, complicated. I was… in a bad spot at home and decided leaving was for the best, though I didn’t expect I’d end up in this ‘Vegas’. Are all the cities here so dingy and licentious?”

“Wow, that was quite the SAT word, buddy. But to answer your question, don’t worry, this city is about as bad as it gets, everywhere else is pretty tame in comparison” said Jake as another patron entered the shop. Since Jake was still talking to me, another employee went to help them and I couldn’t help but overhear their exchange.

“Hey, you like bands? I got some MCR,” said the employee but the patron didn’t respond “Not your style, huh? Well we also got some Asking Alexandria, both Danny and Dennis eras. No? How about some Bowie? Too old school for ya? Maybe some Panic! is what you’re after? You know, if buy the classic emo trinity, I’ll throw in an Amy Lee keychain, how about it?”

“Uhhh, actually I was wondering if you had any Nickleback?” the patron finally spoke.

“Get out of my shop. Never come back. Don’t even glance at it. And don’t contaminate my precious merchandise with your breath on your way out!” shouted the employee in response to the phrase which I assume was a horrible transgression against his honor. “My great grandpa, Michael Fuentes the first, would’ve been turning in his grave if he could’ve heard that bullshit.” He muttered as the patron scurried out.

Keeping my gaze on Jake I say, “what was that about? I’ve never witnessed such an encounter, is that how conversation is conducted here?”

“Not usually, but Mike over here is a purist when it comes to music and Nickleback certainly doesn’t make the cut” he said, nodding in the direction of his co-worker. Just as he nods Mike happens to look in our direction and, angrily, he stomps over to our direction. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to initiate any sort of interaction with this clearly deranged man, even if it was entirely accidental. My immediate instinct is to run away from this stranger, but I’ve been doing that far too much today. I’m a classically trained musician, not a runner. I would have put a hell of a lot more distance between me and this city by now if I were. Plus, I’m no coward, I’m on the run because I saved a girl’s life.

“And what the hell are you here for? Better not be some One Direction bullshit, fuckin’ hate those pieces of crap…” Mike grumbled. What am I here for? Oh, right, hiding from a bat shit crazy government.

“Uhhh, a job. A place to sleep. Just the necessities until I can make it out of this crack pot city.”

“Oh! Well why didn’t you just say so! Jake here is the best guy for these types of things. He knows what’s what around these parts.”

“Yeah, sure, I could probably hook you up with a job somewhere, do you have any skills or talent?” asked Jake.

“I play music, but there doesn’t seem to be anywhere to do that here.”

“Well, that all depends. What do you play?” asked Mike, who seemed to have calmed down considerably.

“Violin mostly, but I’m proficient in piano, cello, double bass, viola, harp, guitar-” I began but Jake interrupted me.

“So just about every stringed instrument, huh? Yeah, I know a place that needs you desperately.” I didn’t know what excited me more, the prospect of a job in music or the fact that he knew that pianos were technically stringed instruments.

“Really? Where is this establishment?”

“The theater I work at on the weekends, they would kill to get an actual musician in there, dude. We’re barely getting by in there with who we’ve got now, the guys barely know that Beethoven wasn’t a dog in some kid’s movie. Plus, they can’t sacrifice my techie expertise in order to fill in the leftover positions.”

“I think I’d enjoy that very much. Do you think you could show me where this place is?” I questioned.

“Yeah dude, I get off in 10 minutes so we can swing by there and then after I can show you the hookup I have for a place to stay. It’s going to be great,” Jake beamed“I can’t wait to get off. Love Mike over here but this job sucks ass.”

Notes

Ayyyyyyyyye, we ain't dead. Just sad, sad, timeless college students. Enjoy~
XoXo,
WretchedandDivineXoXoX (who clearly doesn't need to have any more Xo's) and CherryBlack