Who: Indie and OPEN What: Shopping. When: Saturday afternoon. Where:Rudy's Music in SoHo. Warning: None; TBD
Even through her self-imposed exile from music, Indie had never stopped going to the places where sounds began and people laid hands on their first instruments, their first pieces of inspiration. In one form or another, she was known at most of the music stores in the city - whether she was buying, selling or simply there to influence. She had her favorite places, naturally - the local wonders and privately-owned businesses that needed business more than corporate chains.
On a Saturday afternoon, there was no place she'd rather be than strolling into her favorite of the local shops in SoHo. The door chimed and heels sounded on hardwood floors. An employee at the counter looked up and smiled over the head of a customer, waving to her as he she made her way towards one of the large display cases.
"Be with you in a second, Izz!"
"Take your time," she answered back, shifting her purse and pushing pink curls out of her face.
It was no time at all before he made his way over to her, the customer casting a lingering glance at Indie, as though she'd seen her before, before making her way out of the store and back to the bustling street with an amp under one arm.
"How'd your old man like that Ibanez?" he asked, hands sliding into his pockets as he lingered next to her.
Indie smiled, remembering the way Blues had handled the instrument and the resulting inspiration that had flooded through her. "Loves it," she answered. "I know I can always find something with some soul in it here."
He chuckled. "I'll tell Mister Pensa that next time I see him. You know your brother was in here the other day."
"Which one?" she offered, playing dumb. She knew very well which one it had been because it had been her - bringing in one of Twila's acoustics for a repair.
"Ian. Brought in your little sister's piece to get fixed; something about a chip."
"Oh right."
"So what can I help you find today?"
Indie took a deep breath and settled her hands on her hips, chewing on the inside of her lip for a moment. "Something ostentatious," she answered. "Flashy. But nothing in blue."
He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced slowly around the store. "You shopping new or vintage?" he asked.
"Vintage, naturally." Like there was any question.
"Well, we got a '56 Silver-Jet Gretsch."
"The sparkly one?"
A laugh answered her before anything else. "Yeah, the sparkly one."
"Can I see it?" she asked, batting her lashes at him and tilting her head to the side. She knew that he wasn't going to offer it and then tell her no, but it sure helped to butter up the guy who was about to sell you an exceptional piece of an instrument.
"Sure," he replied, grinning like a fool back at her. "Oh, and we got a '57 Les Paul Goldtop here and a '71 Deluxe Goldtop at the other store, if you're looking for something like that."
"You sure know how to talk to a girl," she said with a wink. "Alright, well... go get 'em!" she said, shooing him off and taking a seat in a curved-back chair in the corner.
There was something about being able to get in, get stuff done and get out that made her feel satisfied - like it had all been a job done well. The fact that her customer service was so spot-on didn't mean that she wasn't going to look around a bit longer and it sure didn't mean she wasn't going to leave with a back-seat full of stuff. Maybe it was the residual hipster in her, but when she shopped, she shopped hard.
She was so lost in her own little world, in the midst of trying to look at every single thing in the store at once from her viewpoint, that she didn't hear the door open or see another customer enter the store. She just leaned her head to the side to glance up at a row of vintage acoustics and wondered if she had room in the closet of hers for another.