The Sun Is Also a Star

I’m headed to trip-hop when I notice a couple making out in the pop diva section in the far back corner. They’re lip-locked next to a poster of Like a Virgin by Madonna, so I can’t make out the faces exactly, but I know the boy’s profile intimately. It’s my ex-boyfriend Rob. His make-out partner is Kelly, the girl he cheated on me with.

Of all the people to run into, today of all days. Why isn’t he in school? He knows this is my place. He doesn’t even like music. My mom’s voice rings in my head. Things happen for a reason, Tasha. I don’t believe that sentiment, but still, there has to be a logical explanation for the horribleness of this day. I wish Bev were with me. If she were, I wouldn’t have even come into the record store. Too old and boring, she’d say. Instead, we’d probably be in Times Square watching tourists and trying to guess where they were from based on their clothes. Germans tend to wear shorts no matter the weather.

As if watching Rob and Kelly try to eat each other’s faces weren’t gross enough, I see her hand snake out, snatch a record, and then slip it between their bodies and into her very bulky, perfect-for-stealing jacket.

No. Way.

I’d rather burn my eyes out than keep watching, but I do. I can’t actually believe what I’m seeing. They devour each other for another few seconds, and then her hand sneaks out again.

“Oh my God, they’re gross. Why are they so gross?” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. Like my mom, I have a tendency to say my thoughts out loud.

“She’s just gonna steal that?” asks an equally incredulous voice beside me. I quickly glance over to see who I’m talking to. It’s an Asian boy wearing a gray suit and a ridiculously bright red tie.

I turn back to watch some more. “Doesn’t anybody work here? Can’t they see what’s happening?” I ask, more to myself than to him.

“Shouldn’t we say something?”

“To them?” I ask, gesturing at the little thieves.

“The staff, maybe?”

I shake my head without looking at him. “I know them,” I say.

“Sticky Fingers is your friend?” His voice is slightly accusatory.

“She’s my boyfriend’s girlfriend.”

Red Tie turns his attention away from the crime in progress and onto me. “How does that work, exactly?” he asks.

“I mean ex-boyfriend,” I say. “He cheated on me with her, actually.” I’m more flustered about seeing Rob than I realize. It’s the only explanation for me volunteering that piece of information to a stranger.

Red Tie shifts his attention back to the petty larceny. “Great pair, a cheater and a thief.”

I half laugh.

“We should tell someone,” he says.

I shake my head. “No way. You do it.”

“Strength in numbers,” he says back.

“If I say something, it’s going to look like I’m jealous and messing with them.”

“Are you?”

I look at him again. His face is sympathetic.

“That’s kind of a personal question, isn’t it, Red Tie?” I ask.

He shrugs. “We were having a moment,” he says.

“Nope,” I say, and turn away again to watch them. Rob feels me watching and catches my eye before I can look away.

“Jesus Christ bleeding on a Popsicle stick,” I whisper under my breath.

Rob gives me his patented stupid half smile and a wave. I almost give him the finger. How did I date him for eight months and four days? How did I let this accomplice hold my hands and kiss me?

I face Red Tie. “Is he coming over here?”

“Yup.”

“Maybe we should make out or something, like spies do in the movies,” I suggest.

Red Tie blushes hard.

“I’m not serious,” I say, smiling.

He doesn’t say anything, just blushes some more. I watch the color warm his face.

Rob’s there before Red Tie can pull himself together to respond.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is a deep, reassuring baritone. It’s one of the things I liked about him. Also, he looks like a young Bob Marley, only white and without the dreadlocks.

“Why are you and your girlfriend stealing things?” Red Tie cuts in before I can say anything to Rob.

Rob holds his hands up and takes a step back. “Whoa, dude,” he says. “Keep your voice down.” He pastes the stupid half smile back on his stupid face.

Red Tie gets even louder. “This is an independent record store. That means it’s family-owned. You’re stealing from real people. Do you know how hard it is for small businesses to survive when people like you just take stuff?”

Red Tie is righteous, and Rob even manages to look a little chastened.

“Don’t look now, but I think your girlfriend just got busted,” I say. Two store employees are whispering furiously at Kelly and tapping the front of her jacket.

Rob’s stupid face finally loses its stupid smile. Instead of going over to rescue Kelly, he shoves his hands into his pockets and walk-runs out the front door. Kelly calls out to him as he bolts, but he doesn’t stop. One of the employees threatens to call the cops. She begs him not to, and pulls two records from her jacket. She has good taste. I spot Massive Attack and Portishead.

The employee snatches them from her hand. “Come back in here again and I will call the cops.”

She bolts from the store, calling after Rob.