I sank a little farther down in the seat, feeling guilty for no reason. Why should I? We were just looking at records. We didn’t even shake hands this time. No touching whatsoever.
“I know how it sounds. It’s just… complicated,” I told Dad.
“It always is,” he murmured, brow creasing with lines. “Always is.”
Fen Sarafian:
Hey, was wondering if your dad’s offer still stood?
I got the $$$ for the auto part.
Jane Marlow:
That was fast! One day. Did you do some stripping for cash tips?
Fen Sarafian:
Sold some of my personal vinyl. So, pretty much?
Respect for sex workers, but this was pure desperation
Me=hurt
Jane Marlow:
GASP. You=Mrs. Tybalt
Fen Sarafian:
Gonna start smoking Marlboros and yelling at kids to get off my ranch!
Jane Marlow:
HOW MUCH WILL YOU GIVE ME FOR THESE TOENAIL CLIPPINGS?
EVERYTHING IS FOR SALE, INCLUDING MY SOUL
Fen Sarafian:
I’m a little scared to go back, honestly, but: the right Elvis wax? Would sell my soul too.
Jane Marlow:
Soul sellouts! If she wants to sell candy-crusted holiday records, let me know
Dad’s in bed early with headache, so I’ll ask in morn about Jeep
But I know he’ll say yes. He was cool with you
Fen Sarafian:
A father that doesn’t hate me! Miracle of miracles…
Track [15] “Heaven Help Me”/Lizzo
Jane
I didn’t know Dad andFen had exchanged numbers until Dad called from town the next afternoon to inform me that he was on his way to the record shop to fix the Jeep. That was where we’d left Fen after following him into town, in the parking lot next to the brick building that housed Victory Vinyl, just off the Strip. Fen said he had some work to do in the shop, and that his aunt would pick him up—that if he had to get the Jeep towed, it was closer to repair shops.
