CRIME FICTION
That’ll Be The Day (Chapter 2)
A Power Pop Heist (Book 1)
That’ll Be The Day: A Power Pop Heist is the first book in a series of short, music-themed crime fiction novelettes.
Did you miss Chapter 1? Here’s the link:
Chapter 2
Jack strolled up the sidewalk toward Cavern Vintage Vinyl the next morning. A greasy breakfast and two cups of coffee did combat with his bourbon hangover as he approached. The motel, booze and breakfast ate up his first hundred. He spent the rest of his cash on an unregistered revolver he scored from an old acquaintance. All six bullets were earmarked for his old man, but he wasn’t opposed to flashing the piece at his little brother. Jack could never shoot Jamie, but the threat would likely speed things up. If nothing else, it would be hilarious to watch him shit his pants.
Jack gripped the gun in his coat pocket and shouldered his way inside. The place smelled of cheap incense and mildew, exactly like he remembered. A couple of middle-aged guys thumbed through the alphabetical stacks, searching for hidden treasures. A Teenage Fanclub record crackled overhead as Jack wandered down the aisle. Or maybe it was Big Star. It had been a decade since Jack could tell them apart, or gave a shit either way. The only thing that mattered was grabbing his money and getting the hell out of town.
The wooden bins he’d helped his brother build overflowed with used vinyl. A flood of memories accompanied every album cover he passed, each one more pointless than the last. He glanced over at the clerk behind the register, a gangly teenager who looked way too young to be working there alone. The vinyl in the “Collectibles” case behind the counter looked mostly familiar — a numbered copy of The Beatles’ White Album; a 12” promo copy of 20/20’s “Yellow Pills;” The Shivvers’ “Teen Line/When I Was Younger” 45; and thirty or so other artifacts. The collection seemed smaller than the last time he set foot in the store. Jack took that as a bad sign.
Mixed in among the cherished relics was the debut album from Jamie & The Jaxx. That one belonged in the cutout bin as far as Jack was concerned. Or maybe even the dumpster out back. Preferably set on fire.
Jack made a beeline for the back of the store. He’d almost reached the storeroom door when a voice cracked behind him.
“Help you with something, sir?”
Jack wheeled around. The young clerk stood there, all oozing acne and quivering lips.
“Your boss around?”
The kid kept a safe distance.
“I’m the manager.”
Jack chuckled, slowly closing the gap between them.
“Manager, huh? Well, I’ve got some bootlegs I think your boss might be interested in. Really rare stuff from Badfinger and, uh, Raspberries.”
The kid’s eyes flicked down to Jack’s empty hands.
“Come back on Thursday or Friday. That’s when we do our buying. And bring the vinyl with you next time.”
Jack inched forward until he towered over him.
“Unfortunately, I’m leaving town tonight. So why don’t you tell your chickenshit boss to get his ass out here before I snap your neck.”
The kid opened his mouth to speak, but an older voice came out.
“It’s okay, Alex. I’ll take care of this.”
Jack looked over his shoulder and into the eyes of his younger brother. Everything about Jamie looked familiar, but he seemed a lot older. The shag haircut, tight jeans and faded concert T-shirts he’d been wearing since high school looked more like a costume these days. Still, it was good to see him, even though Jack would never admit it.
Jamie motioned for his manager to get back to work.
“I heard you got out. How’s your first day of freedom?”
Jack forced a grin. He wanted to ask about their little sister, but not before he got his money. Best to keep Jamie focused.
“I came to collect what’s mine.”
Jamie blinked twice, turning back for the door.
“Let’s go into my office. Give us some privacy.”
“Hope that’s still where you keep the safe.”
The brothers wove down a cluttered hallway. The overhead light was burned out, but they both knew the way by heart. Jamie took a seat behind his desk and lit a cigarette. Jack sat across from him, tilting back on a creaky wooden chair.
“See you hired a new manager. Business must be booming.”
“It was either that or work every shift myself.” The cigarette between Jamie’s lips bounced as he spoke.
“What about Wendy? Ain’t that how mom and pops are supposed to work?”
“Yeah, right. She wants to torch the place and collect the insurance money.”
Jack wondered if that was a half-hearted job offer. It would be just like his little brother to suggest something so stupid the day after Jack got out of prison. He decided to let it pass.
“And burn all your precious records? She should know you better than that after all these years.”
“I know, right? Listen, Jack. I’m really fucking sorry about everything. It never sat right, me being out here and you in prison. I felt like a real asshole the whole time.”
“You could have come to visit.”
“The lawyer told me to keep my distance. You know…just in case.”
Jack waved him off, his other hand on the revolver in his jacket pocket.
“Whatever. I didn’t come here looking for an apology. Just give me the cash.”
Jamie polished off his cigarette with a series of short puffs. He dropped the butt into a half empty can of Diet Dr. Pepper.
“About the money. I don’t have — ”
Jack sprang up, slamming his free hand down on the desk. Words and spit spewed from between snarling lips. “What the fuck do you mean you don’t have it? How much do you have?”
“None of it.”
Fire flashed across Jack’s cheeks.
Jamie avoided eye contact while calmly lighting another cigarette. “Keep your voice down. You’ll scare the customers away.”
Deep down, Jack knew all along that he probably wouldn’t get all of his money. But nothing? That was a different story. He pulled the revolver and leveled it at Jamie.
“You think I give a fuck about your customers?”
“Come on, Jack. Put the gun down. No way you’d ever shoot me.”
Jack moved the barrel closer to his brother’s chest. Terror etched cracks into Jamie’s bland expression.
“The fuck are you doing?”
“You’ve got five seconds to give me my money.”
“It’s gone. That’s all I can tell you.”
“One.”
“Come on, Jack. I can’t give you money I don’t have.”
“Two.”
“Put the gun down and let’s talk about it. I’ll find a way to make it right.”
“Three.”
“Jesus Christ, Jack. Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“Four.”
“Please don’t shoot me. Please.”
“Five.”
Jack tightened his finger around the trigger. Tears flooded Jamie’s eyes.
“Okay! Okay! I’ve got some cash stashed at home. It ain’t fifty grand, but I’ll give you everything I have.”
Jack waited a beat before shoving the gun back into his pocket.
“See how easy that was? Now let’s go. It’ll be nice to see Wendy.”
That’ll Be The Day: A Power Pop Heist is the first book in a series of short, self-published crime fiction novelettes. ©️ S.W. Lauden 2021
I also write about music. Here’s a recent Medium article:
