Concert in the Freezer Aisle

This is based on the weekly writing prompts from Reedsy . I’m open to constructive criticism. I want to improve my writing.

“You hear music emanating from aisle 3 of your local grocery store. No one else hears it.”

I looked at my phone screen again because the app was wrong. It was a couple of days before payday, but my account had more money than that. If I was lucky, someone hacked into my account but. I’m not that lucky; every charge was mine. Between ballet lessons, dental payments, and a damaged textbook, I had enough for a bottle of Beringer and some cheap ice cream. After tonight’s date, I deserved something.

Tracey assured me I had a lot in common her brother’s friend. She promised he was a true gentleman. Tracey and I had different interpretations of a true gentleman. I didn’t expect Heathcliff in tails, but I did expect someone who showed up on time and could go on a date without his mother. I hope at least one of my kids spill dinner on her.

I didn’t do set-ups, but when she offered free babysitting, a dress from her closet, and even offered to stay overnight if things went well, I felt too obligated. I shouldn’t be picky. It’s not like there was a long line of guys waiting to date a divorced mother of three. The grocery story felt like the right place for late night therapy. Ben and Jerry always knew how to make my outlook better. Before my ex dumped me for our daughter’s dance instructor, I drowned bad days in a bottle of good pinot. These days wine went down better when followed with an ice cream chaser.

“Hi, Ms. Peterson,” Loni called from her check out lane. Three years ago, Loni sat in the back of my American Lit class. When I read her paper claiming Hester Prynne should have worn more sunscreen, I knew she was destined for greatness.

“Hey, Loni. How’s your mom and dad?”

“Oh, they’re fine. They got back last night from a cruise for their thirtieth anniversary.”

“Wow. That’s a long time. Good for them. Tell them I said congratulations.” I wondered what happy pills they used to make their marriage last that long.

I pushed my cart over to the wine section first. I reached for my favorite and then noticed a cart full of random clearance bottles. I compared prices and settled for a decent Zinfandel marked down fifty percent.

Score!

When I turned down the ice cream aisle, I saw Mr. Davidson, the new math teacher. He always looked hot in a jacket and tie, but he took my breath away standing there in old jeans and a Henley. Every female teacher volunteered to chaperone prom after he signed up as the organizer. Even Hector, our art teacher, offered to work the refreshment table for a chance to work with Mr. Davidson. I tried to back up without him seeing me and backed right into a display. Why put a toilet paper display on aisle three when toilet paper was on aisle ten?

This night was not getting any better.

“Jessica?”

I tried to blend in with the Charmin. “Oh, hi Tom.”

He bent down to help. “Whatcha doing here? I thought I was the only one late night cravings.”

Be cool, Jessica.

“Well, ya know, it’s never too late for ice cream.”

A couple of clerks joined us and assured me they could finish cleaning up my mess.

“So what’s your favorite flavor?”

I knew he said something to me because I saw his mouth move, but his mouth was too distracting. I couldn’t focus on anything else. I wondered how they would taste. Tom snapped his fingers. “Jessica, are you OK? Don’t tell me that t.p. gave you a concussion.”

“Mmmm… what?” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I forgot some of the things on my list, and I don’t want to come back tomorrow. Did you say something?”

He chuckled and raised one eyebrow. “I asked you about your favorite flavor.”

I bet his hair is thick and soft. “Lucky Gun,” I said without a thought.

“Oh, I don’t know that flavor. Who makes it?”

I had to focus. “No not ice cream. That’s the song they’re playing. “Lucky Gun” by The Boy Street Brothers. I haven’t heard this song in a long time. Man, it brings back memories. Don’t you remember them?”

Tom looked all around. “Jessica, what are you talking about? I don’t hear any music. Are you sure you’re OK?”

The music stopped. I guess I zoned out for a second. He looked confused. I’m sure he thought I was a nut case at best or an alcoholic at worst. I felt his anxiety rise “Um…yeah… so I guess I’ll see you on Monday. I need to get my ice cream home before it melts.”

I watched him power walk away, shrugged, and continued the search for my ice cream. The music began a little louder than before only this time it was “Baby I See You.” I knew this song by heart. The Boy Street Brothers was one of my favorite bands. The summer before I went to college, my sister won tickets to a concert. She swore to take me but took her new boyfriend instead. He knocked her up the next year and dropped off the face of the earth. Serves her right; she should have taken me.

I opened the cooler door as an explosion of confetti landed all over. It shocked me, and I let the door go. It closed. What the heck? I looked down the aisle to see if anyone else saw what I happened. An old man looked at me, smiled, and nodded his head. I smiled back and opened the door again.

A strobe light pulsed and a booming voice announced, “Now, exactly what you have been waiting for.” I closed the door and looked back to the man. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

He looked at the floor and walked away. I suspected he went to get a manager. I’m sure the cops were coming soon too. I didn’t need ice cream that badly. In fact, maybe I didn’t even need the wine.

Leave the cart and walk away fast.

The door pushed itself opened and blocked my exit. A hand reached out and grabbed me. I could hear thousands of girls screaming. Then the same loud voice continued, “The Boy Street Brothers.” The crowd went wild. Before I could run away, the hand pulled me into the cooler. I closed my eyes in fear; I’m dead. I must be dead, and this is hell. When I opened them, I realized I was not in the ice cream cooler. I don’t even think I was in the grocery store. Everywhere I looked screaming girls jumped up and down and stomped their feet. Thousands of glow sticks provided the only light. None of this made sense. It seemed like a concert, but I looked out at the audience and not at the stage. I saw all five guys from the band line up on stage. A spotlight shined down on Curtis, the lead, and he began to sing.

“What did you say your name was? Jennifer?” Someone screamed in my ear.

“I’m not in Kansas anymore,” I said to myself.

“What did you say?” The guy in front of me looked angry. He wore a black shirt with the word

Security across the chest. According to his hanging name badge, he was Tom. He stared and waited for an answer. “Look if you’re wasted already, this isn’t going to work. I know the station is sponsoring this concert, but it has to be a clean show.”

I looked down at my name badge. Jess. No one called me Jess anymore. “Jess. My name is Jess.” I showed him my badge in case he didn’t believe me.

“Great. Enjoy the show and don’t get in anyone’s way. In fact, stand here and not move.”

The loud music made my eardrums beat in rhythm. It wasn’t long before I bobbed my head, jumped up and down, and screamed like all the other crazy girls. By the fifth song, I danced right along with them. A lady with a clipboard grabbed my arm. “Are you ready? You’re on for the next song.”

“What?”

“Look a stagehand will bring out the stool and Curtis will come get you. The only thing you need to do is sit and watch whoever sings. Don’t get off the stool and make sure you look at the guys as they sing. This is a love song for Christ’s sake.”

Before I could react, Curtis walked up, and clipboard lady introduced us. Curtis smiled, and the room began to spin.

“Hey, Jess. Ya ready?”

My mouth stopped working, so I nodded as he led me onto center stage and helped me sit on the stool. He turned to the crowd. “Hey everyone, this is Jess, our new friend.” Then he looked at me. “Jess, this is for you.” My face burned, and the crowd went wild.

He sang first then each of the other guys sang a few lines. I felt like royalty. I’m sure every girl here hated me, but I didn’t care. Wait until my sister heard about this. The song ended, and a stagehand almost carried me off in one hand with the stool in the other.

Clipboard lady waited for me and said, “Good job. They ate it up, and you’re still standing. You’d be surprised how many girls can’t walk after they’re done or won’t leave the stage. I’m going to take you to the Green Room where you can wait for the band. After a few pictures, the radio station will want to talk to you, there will be a small party, and then you’re free to go.”

I followed her to the door marked Green Room. She opened it, and I walked in the room. The cold room vanished, and I stepped out of the cooler and back to the store. As the door closed, the music died until I couldn’t hear it at all anymore. I opened the door and looked in as far as I could. Ice cream. There was only ice cream.

Put the wine back, Jess.

I bolted and ran into Tom as I rounded the corner.

“Hey, Jessica. I wanted to make sure you were ok, Kinda seems like you’re not having a good night and I thought,” he paused, “If you’re not busy- and not too tired- that we could go get some pie and coffee instead of ice cream.”

I knew I needed to answer him, but forgot how my mouth worked, so I nodded. I didn’t think this night could get any stranger.

I had to clear the air first. I grabbed his arm and made him look at me. “Tom, I need you to know, I’m not crazy.”

“I know that, Jess. I mean who doesn’t like The Boy Street Brothers? I even have a great story about a time I did security for one of their concerts.”

Yep, this night just got stranger.