I was putting some vinyl on the shelves when I heard a bit of commotion on the other side of the store. I wiped sweat from my forehead and wondered, “What now?” The air conditioner had been on the fritz for the last two days, and it meant I kept the door open. I carefully set aside the records and headed toward the front.
When I got there, I froze in my tracks next to a classic rock display at the sight of Beebub, resplendent in a deep purple suit, dark enough to almost be black, and a white shirt and lavender tie. His light-brown curly hair was cut in an expensive-looking style, his brown eyes as vibrant as ever.
He looked good. Great. Edible. Like he had the world in his hands and knew it. His brash and in-your-face behavior seemed to have mellowed into the confident man before me, tho
