This is an early chapter from my novel-in-progress What the Hell Ever Happened to Yuri Rozhenko? This work is the sequel to my novel Crash Shadow: A Tale of Two Addicts. I have prepared this opening and am offering it up for feedback, as it is still a work in progress.

    “She wanted to call this place Cunt Punch Records.”
    “Holy shit! That would’ve been an awesome name!”
    Chafe moved her hands delicately around her spikes as she looked over the store from behind the register, moving her hands around her head as if the energy from her fingers could somehow keep her carefully spiked hairs standing up. “She got a lot of shit about the name when she applied for a business license, so she hadda call it something else.”
    Chafe had been working at Dry Heave records longer than anyone else there. The owner very rarely showed up, leaving the care of the store in the hands of the manager Tandasil.
    It was a large store, but Skye would never have called it large. She would describe it as long. Dry Heave was composed of three storefronts that had been connected together with some difficulty by semi-competent contractors, who put in awkward and thin doorways that customers had to squeeze through one at a time.
    The pop and rock music were in the main storefront near the cash registers. The next storefront over was where the punk, metal, hip hop, and electronica were. The last storefront, the one that was the easternmost part of the complex, was usually referred to as the “granddad” section, since it contained the Jazz, Blues, and other music genres that weren’t considered modern. They still called it the granddad section even though it was routinely haunted by younger people.
    The place was semi-organized. Skye was always finding misplaced CDs and records: A punk CD in the Jazz section, an old movie soundtrack LP in the electronica bin, a metal CD in the pop LPs.
    “Next time I see her I gotta ask about that Cunt Punch thing.”
    “If she ever shows up. I haven’t seen her in weeks.”
    “I hardly ever see Jolene.”
    “She used to come by every other day. Now we never know when we’ll see her.”
    Chafe leaned on the counter. It was clear that the late morning customers were browsing and it would be awhile before anyone came up to the register.
    A flouncy-haired college student came bounding into the store.
    “Do you have the new Faction 48 album?”
    “Right there,” said a pointing Skye quickly, “In the new record section.”
    Chafe held in a sneer as the college student bounded away and came right back with the record. Skye jumped on the register and rang up the purchase. Skye was always a lot more diplomatic than Chafe, even though Chafe was her senior in the store.
    “I’m gonna gag if anyone else asked about that damn Faction 48 pop trash,” muttered Chafe.
    Chafe was the epitome of a fashion punk. Skye would have been surprised if she ever saw even one pore on Chafe’s perpetually makeup covered face. Her jean vests and leather jackets were always covered with patches and pins, and she had a seemingly endless supply of slightly ripped fishnet stockings.
    But she wasn’t just another caked on fashion punk. She was also an encyclopedia of punk and metal music. If you simply showed her a picture of a punk or metal band, regardless of what era or sub-genre, she could not only tell you which band it was, but would name of the members of the band, which bands they had been in, and which bands they were in now.
    “Here comes the boss.”
    The manager was coming from the back, slowly making her way to the counter.
    Tandasil was a very tall and rigid woman. She always stood straight, as if she was made out of a two by four. But despite being straighter than a flagpole she always seemed quite calm and serene. Her frayed and untameable hair was always piled on top of her head, held together with chaotically placed hair bands and rubber bands, her gnarled locks close to becoming dreadlocks. It always exposed the tattoos on her neck, some of which were scary good work: Smalls symbols and skulls and intermittent pagan symbols. Skye knew she must have many more tattoos, but she always wore plain, long-sleeved shirts and long pants, keeping even her forelimbs a mystery. One of her most prominent features were her large seeing eye glasses. The glasses, along with the plain longsleeve shirts, made her look like a demented librarian.
    She was also an unusual supervisor in that she was not overbearing, particularly demanding, or routinely demeaning, which was very unusual for a retail boss. She was strict enough. She had fired more than a few people, but that was understandable considering what kind of people were attracted to the music business.
    “Hey Tand.” said Skye.
    “Hello Skye,” replied Tandasil in her husky voice. “I was wondering if you could work a few hours this Thursday night.”
    “I got class until six.”
    “If you can come by after, it would help.”
    “Ain’t Doug workin’ Thursday night?” asked Chafe.
    “I had to let him go. Turns out he was ripping us off.”
    “Damn!” exclaimed Skye.
    “What about all of those guys that applied last week?” asked Chafe. “None a’ them work out?”
    “They don’t know any bands beyond The Pogues. I really need someone who knows their stuff.”
    “What about Mohawk Karen?”
    “She’s workin’ at Leopold’s.”
    “I know!” blurted Chafe who turned to Skye,” What about your ex?’
    “Who, Reese?”
    “No, the guitar player. He’s down with the street. He knows all the bands.”
    “Gary?”
    “He’s a bass player. I’m talkin’ about Yuri.”
    Skye held in a start. No one had mentioned her ex-boyfriend Yuri to her in a long time.
    “Damn. I have no idea where he is. He left town a couple a’ years ago.”
    “Well, if you think of someone let me know,” said Tandasil. “Can I count on you for Thursday?”
    “Sure thing.”
    “Thanks.”
    Tandasil turned and started back for her office.
    Chafe turned to Skye. “You still thinkin’ about going part time? You know she wants you to stay on full time.”
    “I got enough money saved up that I can start workin’ part time and go to school full time for at least a couple a’ years.”
    “For community college?”
    “Hell no. I’m gonna apply for a four year school so I can get a real degree.”
    “You can’t pay for no four year with this job.”
    “That’s when I apply for grants and loans.”
    “What about a scholarship?”
    “Scholarship? What? For washed up ol’ twenty something punks?”
    Chafe shrugged. “Try and find a collegiate sugar daddy.”
    “I never thought about lookin’ for a scholarship. I always figured you hadda be a high school student for that.”
    “You really gonna go for it then.”
    “Yeah. Someday I want to be able to live in my own place. Someday I want to be able to buy real food, and not have to save every piece of clothes I have until they’re falling apart.”
    “Big dreams!”
    Hearing the name Yuri took Skye back to her younger and wilder days. She should have felt more self-conscious around Tandasil and Chafe. Her long black-dyed hair was somewhat unruly, but it had been years since she had ratted it out or dumped a lot of Knox, Aquanet, or Dep into it. She was wearing a band t-shirt and black jeans, but they weren’t completely faded and didn’t have any tears or rips. The only jewelry she had on were two small hoop earrings and two rings on her left hand.
    Chafe and Tandasil were much more far out looking than Skye, but Skye used to be right up there with scary looking clubbers and crazy looking gutter punks, when she was wild with her hair and her clothes and all the crazy jewelry she used to wear.
    It wasn’t just the way she looked back then. It all coincided with the way she lived her life at the time. The drinking, the drugs, the at least once-a-week attendance of shows, parties, and impromptu road trips. While she was trying to get her life together and get through college in one piece, her drinking was limited to an occasional few beers after school or work, and she rarely went to shows in order to save money for living expenses and school. But she also knew she would be lying to herself if she tried to tell herself she didn’t miss it. She had to resist the pull of the wild if she was going to get reach another level of living.
    She wondered if she was watered down. She wondered if she was just wising up. She wondered which way she was turning.