Page 83 of Dirty Chorus

Trouble: I’m really sorry. He usually isn’t that ridiculous.

Trouble: Do you hate me?

Trouble: Please, please please write me back.

Trouble: Tell me what I did wrong.

Missed Call Trouble (5) 10:01am

Trouble: I couldn’t even sleep last night. Did you make it home?

Trouble: I really really like you. I dunno if I can handle losing you too. Please.

Trouble: What will it take for me to get you to write me back. Another sharpie?

Missed Call Trouble (6) 12:15pm

My stomach collapsed to the floor, shattering the second the doorbell jingled and she walked in. Trouble and her little sidekick, Payton. Maybe I should've answered her, but I’ve never seen notifications like that on my phone before. We stand five feet apart with her friend eyeballing us.

I don’t need this. Not today. Not after her ex attempted to assault me with his little posse and then her brother pinned me against a wall. Man, that has to be a personal record, right? I should get a loyalty card. Get jumped five times, and your sixth concussion is free.

I have customers strolling in and out of the store, and I’m already embarrassed enough that I have black trash bags in all corners of the store and display cases tipped over. On top of that I’ve been lying to Gramps all morning about the mess down here, and he’s poking the end of his walking cane on the black bags peeking to look at what I’m throwing away.

“I didn’t think you’d swing by. Is your brother going to come in here too?” I ask Charlie and I know for a fact I’m being a dick.

“Look...” She huffs, biting her bottom lip. “You can’t be mad at me for him being an overprotective asshole.”

Payton's eyeballs are bouncing left to right like a ping pong ball.

“I really don’t want to talk in front of your friend,” I say with gritted teeth. Charlie gives me a pained look. She blinks a few times, and the whites in her eyes redden as if she’s holding back tears.

Payton presses her lips together and flashes an uneasy smile as she walks backward, pointing a thumb to another section of the store. “I’ll just...” she says, and she merely stumbles into another rack of CD’s. “Check out another section.” She nervously laughs and scurries off with a hand covering her face.

“I only came to that party for you. You can’t lead me on just to get back at your ex.”

“That’s not what I did!” she bites back.

“That’s bullshit,” I say harsher than I mean for it to come out. “I played your stupid game, and when it came down to it, you don’t want more with me. I should've known better. I’m not the type of guy who’s good enough for you.”

“That’s not true... I do.”

I catch her friend eyeballing, and when I glance in her direction she turns on her heel, and starts skimming through the CD cases.

“I feel like you don’t want more with me. You're using me to get back at him. I can’t do this. You get on me about drugs, but you’re smoking weed. You stole booze last night. What the hell, Charlie? You’ve been hounding my phone all day and you show up here knowing I have to run the store.”

“I do like you.” She’s trembling now, her shoulders shaking. “I like you more than anything,” she whispers.

“Then actually let go of that guy and be with me. I’m not pretending. I like you... a lot.”

“I know...” Her eyes glisten and she bats her lashes a million times. “I’m sorry for everything. You wouldn’t return any of my calls,” Charlie throws her palms down, biting her front teeth on her lip. Her eyes scanned my face for something.

“I get it, but you gotta look at it from my side.” I lift up my palms and let out a huff with the word.

She dips her head to the side, her feet tapping a mile a minute on the carpet. “I didn’t know Ryder was going to barge in like that.” She twiddles her fingers, glancing down at them.

“That’s barely the problem,” I say and reach for her upper arm and grasp it, stroking it with a thumb.

“What do you mean? You ran off.” She shakes her head, keeping her gaze at her feet. “You always run off. Why? What is so wrong with me?”