“Really.” The shells of her ears turned pink as she bent down to offer the toy to the dog, who instantly went bonkers for it and stopped whining. Then she stood back up and said, “Um, so, old-school L.A. punk…? Not so much. I like a little X. The medley at the end ofGolden Shower of Hitsis fun—the covers of the singles?”
“The Circle Jerks?”
“My dad and I sing along to that. I like some of the nineties punk revival that he listens to, like Bad Religion. But a lot of that early hardcore stuff is way too problematic. Have you seenThe Decline of Western Civilization? About the L.A. punk scene in the 1980s?”
Holy shit. I didn’t know anyone who’d seen that. “Sure.”
“A time of much aggro.”Tap, tap, tap.It was back again, her finger metronome. “I think it’s funny when bands play so hard, they can’t wear shirts, yet they insist on wearing leather pants in Southern California. So weird.”
“Now I’ve got the punk version of ‘Afternoon Delight’ stuck in my head. Thanks for the earworm.”
“That’s a definite mood.” Her cheeks lifted as she smiled, and I felt it in my chest.
“Anywho, all I’m trying to say is that my dad’s been searching for the Black Flag—”
“The rare Double Deuce pressing.”
“Yeah, that. He’s been wanting it for years. We call it his Holy Grail of records, and nothing would make him happier.”
Which dad was she talking about? Mad Dog or his driver? The driver, right? A part of me was curious, mostly so I could connect a picture to the man she was talking about in my mind. But it wasn’t my business, so I didn’t ask. “I’d love to be able to make your dad’s day,” I said, “but I can tell you right now we don’t have it in stock.”
“But can you find it?”
“Wrong question.”
A little dent appeared in the middle of her forehead. “What’s the right question?”
“Whyshould I find it? You don’t even remember who I am.”
The tapping stopped. She squinted at my face. “I… should know you. We’ve met before.”
“Mm. Tried to talk to you the last summer you were at the lake, but I was covered in acne two years ago and was just a lanky skeleton who walked while looking down at the ground. Ring any bells?”
The dog panted at her feet while her gaze raced across my face, back and forth, as if she were attempting to build a map. It sent a little chill down my arm, which felt nice. Until Bob Hayworth, our UPS driver, breezed behind the counter. “Mr. Sarafian,” he said cheerfully. “Where’s your aunt? Picking up, and I’ve got two overnights for ya. One needs her signature.”
I pointed him in the right direction, but he’d already given me up.
Jane stared at me. “Wait. Sarafian?” she said in a small voice.
I nodded.Think, Jane. Not that hard. How many Sarafians do you know?
She drew in a quick breath. “You’rehim.”
“Am I? Who would that be?”
She blinked rapidly. “You’re the brother. You’re Fen.”
“The brother,” I scoffed. Always measured against Eddie.
“You’re supposed to be… You left the family.”
I held up a finger. “My father told me to leave the house over ‘creative differences.’ I moved in with my aunt, and everyone’s happy. One big, happy dysfunctional family.”
She glanced back at the other counter, at Aunt Pari. “That’s your mom’s sister.”
“Gee, you’ve really kept up with us after all these years. The crush on Eddie lingered, huh? We aren’t the Kardashians, youknow. Find another Armenian family with more money. Oddly enough, we are only getting by because of your employer. Mad Dog’s money infusion really helped Sarafian Events. So I should probably bow to you, or something.”
Confusion. Then her eyes darkened. “Eddie warned me about you.”
