White Rabbit, chapter 1
It was a sunny September afternoon. There I was, sitting on a bench in one of many market squares in San Fran. My guitar in hand, and my case at my feet, wide open so the market populace could drop in coins.
I was a regular at this market. The shop owners new me by name. Olive Green. And yes, I still wonder what my parents were thinking when they named me. But hey, what do you expect from a couple of hippies who still think they're living in the past? But then again, that's sort of what I am. I am convinced I was born in the wrong era. I am a flower child lost amidst the hustle and bustle of this commercial nightmare. Okay, maybe I'm sounding a little too cynical. I love my life, I really do. I just always wonder, what would it be like to live in Mexico, or India, or Morocco. Somewhere that I can just be free of my worries.
But in all honesty, I still truly believe my life is great. I share an apartment with my sister Ruby in Chinatown. It's right above a Chinese grocery store called Kim's Food Town. Other than busking, I co-own a record store called 'White Rabbit Records' with Ruby, and my best friend Meg. She lives across the hall in the same apartment block Ruby and I are in.
I turned twenty-three just a day ago, and spent it working. I just went out with Ruby, Meg, and her boyfriend Brighton. I think his parents and mine were both crazy when we were named.
I ended the ninth song I had played today, and started to play a blues piece by Susan Tedeschi.
As I started the chorus, more people tossed coins into my case. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a man staring at me intently. He was sitting at a table in the patio of a café, with a little brown dog on a leash. I glanced over at him, and he smiled. He wasn't especially close to where I was sitting, so I couldn't get a really close look at him. I smiled back at him, and continued to play the last song I was going to play today. My fingers were getting sore.
I noticed the man with the dog hadn't moved from his place by the fountain. I finished up my song, and a group of teenagers standing near a jewelry shop clapped and whistled. I had seen them around here before. I was here almost every day. I was never here Fridays though. Fridays are busy at the record store.
I smiled and waved to them, then propped my guitar up on the bench. I took my case and collected the money from it. There was a lot there. Saturdays are usually pretty good for busking. I had at least thirty bucks. I put the money in my quilted purse, and put my guitar back into its case. I made my way over to the parking lot my orange jeep was in, and unlocked the door. I tossed my guitar case inside, shut the door, and walked down to a café patio and sat down. I was kind of hungry. It was four thirty, but I tend to have early dinners.
The man who was watching me play before looked up at me and smiled. His table was near mine. I smiled back, noticing that he was reading a biography of Janis Joplin. My heart almost skipped a beat. I loved Janis Joplin. And I mean, idolized Janis Joplin. She was incredible.
"You like Janis?" I asked, retying the paisley ribbon in my pixie-hair. I had cut it short just three weeks ago. It used to be down to my waist.
"Of course. She kicked ass back in her day."
I laughed at the man's comment. I was already really intrigued by this man.
"Totally. My Dad saw her live decades ago. I wish I could have been there. I truly believe I was born in the wrong era."
The man laughed, and put out his hand.
"I'm Mike. Mike Dirnt"
"Nice to meet you Mike Dirnt, I'm Olive," I said, shaking his hand. His name was funny. It obviously wasn't his given name.
"So, are you a regular busker?" Mike asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
"Yup. I'm here almost every day. Except Friday's."
"Wow. That's pretty often. Are you like, a full time busker?"
"Oh no. It's a hobby really. I co-own a record store with my sister and a friend."
"A record store? Sounds awesome. What's it called?"
"White Rabbit Records."
"Whoa, you own the White Rabbit? I love that place! You've got everything there. Wait...that's where I know you. I knew I had seen you before somewhere. Did you used to have long hair?"
"Yeah, I did. I cut it off a couple weeks ago."
"Well I like it. It suits you," Mike said quite matter-of-factly.
"Why thank you," I said smiling, as a waitress walked up to me.
"Hi there. Can I start you out with something to drink? Or do you know what you want to eat already? Or, I could read you out the specials if you want... "
I could tell this waitress must have been new. I hadn't seen her around here before.
"I know what I want. I'll have an orange juice and a garden salad with Italian dressing."
"Would you like chicken on the salad?"
"No thanks."
"Alright, I'll be right back with your drink."
The waitress left and Mike moved over to my table so he was sitting across from me. Quite a bold move.
"No chicken on your salad?" he asked me, quite surprised.
"Nope. I don't eat meat. And I have very little dairy. I'm a semi-vegan," I said, mimicking Mike's matter-of-fact tone.
"Wow. That's pretty cool. I don't think I'd have enough self-discipline to quit meat."
"Well, it's not completely about the fact that the animals are killed intentionally. I mean, the amount of animals killed by grain harvesting machines is unaccountable. I basically don't eat meat because the thought of it grosses me out a bit. I love animals to much to eat them."
Mike and I continued to talk, and my drink and salad were brought to me. His dog, apparently named Bruno, was quite the character. Mike and I seemed like very different people, but we were still getting along quite well. We were both twenty-three. He told me he was in Green Day, which really surprised me. I had a couple of their earlier albums, and wondered why I didn't recognize him before when he told me his name. I even had one of their posters on one of the walls at White Rabbit.
My salad was soon finished, and I had to get to work in ten minutes. I didn't want to be late.
"Oh shoot. It's five-twenty. I have to head out. I have work in ten minutes."
"Oh, alright. Hey, can I get your number before you go?"
"Sure. I'll just grab a pen," I said, rummaging through my bag. I found a pen and grabbed Mike's hand. I wrote down my number and tossed the pen back into my bag.
"See you around," I said, dropping a tip on the table for the waitress, and leaving. I made my way over to my jeep and opened the door. I slid in and started the car.
As I drove down the street, heading towards White Rabbit, I couldn't stop thinking about this Mike character. I liked the way he talked about things. It sounded like he was really passionate about what he did.
In lieu of giving my number to a guy from Green Day, I pulled out a Green Day album called Kerplunk out of my glove compartment. I popped it into my CD player and drummed my fingers along to the songs. I hadn't listened to this album that many times, but I really liked how it sounded.
I pulled up to White Rabbit and parked my Jeep in the lot. I got out of the car and entered the building I had just finished re-decorating. It was awesome. The walls were covered in bright posters for great bands, new and old. There were records hanging from the ceiling, and all the furniture was red. There was a listening station in the back so you could listen to some new records or albums we just received, and we even had an area for people to just chill out. Bright red couches and computers. We charged 5 bucks an hour for the Internet, which was a pretty good deal. We had a drink machine and a snack machine too. I was proud of all the work I had done to the place.
Meg, who was sorting some records in the 'Classic Rock' section, greeted me with an "Olive, I don't know how our customers manage to get these albums so out of order."
"Well hello to you too," I said, going to the back room where we had some new records that had arrived. Closing time was at six, which was in a half hour. I basically had to work the till until everyone was gone, count the money, and put the new records and albums out on display.
I checked just to make sure the new records had arrived. They were indeed there in big brown boxes, all stacked on top of each other. I left the back room and went back out to the till. There were probably people there that were waiting to buy stuff.
I took peoples money, gave them change, printed receipts, and bagged items for customers in a daze almost. I was still thinking about Mike. He was so neat. I liked him a lot. I hoped he'd call me soon. I couldn't wait to see him again. He knew so much about music, which is cool for me, because I know very few people who knew about the same artists or albums I did.
The half-hour at till flew by, and everyone had left except Meg, who was shutting the computers off.
"Meg, I'm gonna go to the back and get the new records out now."
"Alright Olive. Remember to put price tags on them. You forgot last time."
"No Meg, that was Ruby remember?"
"Right. Well, you guys look alike. I get you guys mixed up lots."
"Meg, she's eighteen and has long blonde hair. I'm twenty-three, and I have short, shaggy black hair. Plus she's eight inches shorter than me." I laughed. Ruby was only five foot one. I got the tall gene from my Dad, and she got the short gene from Mom.
I went to the back room and opened the door. I spotted the big brown boxes stacked by the back door, and took out my box-cutter. I sliced the first box open, and my eyes widened at what was inside.
What a coincidence. There, sitting in front of me were a bunch of copies of Green Day's new album, Insomniac. We didn't sell that many cds. We mostly sold records. There was a section in the back that had cds and cassettes though.
I took out my little gun that stuck price tags on stuff, and applied $16 price stickers to all the cds. I figured that would be enough.
*Mike's POV*
I walked home from the park with Bruno, and unhooked his leash from his collar. I heard noise in my basement, so I rushed downstairs to see what it was. No way in hell was a burglar gonna get outta my house uninjured.
I stopped at the foot of the stairs, realizing that it was just Billie Joe and Tre on my couch.
"Where were you Mike? We've been here for like twenty minutes?" Billie Joe asked me.
"Huh? How'd you guys get in here?"
Billie Joe rolled his eyes and replied.
"Don't you remember? We were gonna go see the new Ace Ventura movie. We're late now."
"Oh shit. Sorry man, I forgot. I was talking with someone at the park and lost track of time," I said, plopping down on the couch across from them.
"Ah. So whom were you talking to that was so much more interesting than Ace Ventura?" Tre asked, slightly pissed off.
"Oh, this girl Olive. She owns the White Rabbit."
"The White Rabbit? I got my Phantom of the Paradise record there! Well, did you at least get her number?"
"Yeah, I did. I think I'm gonna call her. She's really cool. She's an amazing guitarist too. She busks at the market a lot. The shopkeepers know her by name there."
"Cool. So, is she hot?" Tre asked.
"Uh, yeah. She's really pretty. She's tall, and she has short black hair. She's a vegetarian, which is cool. She's the closest thing to a hippie if I've ever seen one," I said, as Tre took out a couple joints from his pocket.
"Sweet. You should do her. Well, here's a joint. We may as well spend this time usefully, since we aren't seeing the movie. Plus, Ramona's been crying constantly, and I think I'm gonna crack if I stay at home any longer. Lisea's looking after her right now."
I laughed, totally not surprised at Tre's comment. I took the joint from his hand and lit it up.
I was a regular at this market. The shop owners new me by name. Olive Green. And yes, I still wonder what my parents were thinking when they named me. But hey, what do you expect from a couple of hippies who still think they're living in the past? But then again, that's sort of what I am. I am convinced I was born in the wrong era. I am a flower child lost amidst the hustle and bustle of this commercial nightmare. Okay, maybe I'm sounding a little too cynical. I love my life, I really do. I just always wonder, what would it be like to live in Mexico, or India, or Morocco. Somewhere that I can just be free of my worries.
But in all honesty, I still truly believe my life is great. I share an apartment with my sister Ruby in Chinatown. It's right above a Chinese grocery store called Kim's Food Town. Other than busking, I co-own a record store called 'White Rabbit Records' with Ruby, and my best friend Meg. She lives across the hall in the same apartment block Ruby and I are in.
I turned twenty-three just a day ago, and spent it working. I just went out with Ruby, Meg, and her boyfriend Brighton. I think his parents and mine were both crazy when we were named.
I ended the ninth song I had played today, and started to play a blues piece by Susan Tedeschi.
As I started the chorus, more people tossed coins into my case. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a man staring at me intently. He was sitting at a table in the patio of a café, with a little brown dog on a leash. I glanced over at him, and he smiled. He wasn't especially close to where I was sitting, so I couldn't get a really close look at him. I smiled back at him, and continued to play the last song I was going to play today. My fingers were getting sore.
I noticed the man with the dog hadn't moved from his place by the fountain. I finished up my song, and a group of teenagers standing near a jewelry shop clapped and whistled. I had seen them around here before. I was here almost every day. I was never here Fridays though. Fridays are busy at the record store.
I smiled and waved to them, then propped my guitar up on the bench. I took my case and collected the money from it. There was a lot there. Saturdays are usually pretty good for busking. I had at least thirty bucks. I put the money in my quilted purse, and put my guitar back into its case. I made my way over to the parking lot my orange jeep was in, and unlocked the door. I tossed my guitar case inside, shut the door, and walked down to a café patio and sat down. I was kind of hungry. It was four thirty, but I tend to have early dinners.
The man who was watching me play before looked up at me and smiled. His table was near mine. I smiled back, noticing that he was reading a biography of Janis Joplin. My heart almost skipped a beat. I loved Janis Joplin. And I mean, idolized Janis Joplin. She was incredible.
"You like Janis?" I asked, retying the paisley ribbon in my pixie-hair. I had cut it short just three weeks ago. It used to be down to my waist.
"Of course. She kicked ass back in her day."
I laughed at the man's comment. I was already really intrigued by this man.
"Totally. My Dad saw her live decades ago. I wish I could have been there. I truly believe I was born in the wrong era."
The man laughed, and put out his hand.
"I'm Mike. Mike Dirnt"
"Nice to meet you Mike Dirnt, I'm Olive," I said, shaking his hand. His name was funny. It obviously wasn't his given name.
"So, are you a regular busker?" Mike asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
"Yup. I'm here almost every day. Except Friday's."
"Wow. That's pretty often. Are you like, a full time busker?"
"Oh no. It's a hobby really. I co-own a record store with my sister and a friend."
"A record store? Sounds awesome. What's it called?"
"White Rabbit Records."
"Whoa, you own the White Rabbit? I love that place! You've got everything there. Wait...that's where I know you. I knew I had seen you before somewhere. Did you used to have long hair?"
"Yeah, I did. I cut it off a couple weeks ago."
"Well I like it. It suits you," Mike said quite matter-of-factly.
"Why thank you," I said smiling, as a waitress walked up to me.
"Hi there. Can I start you out with something to drink? Or do you know what you want to eat already? Or, I could read you out the specials if you want... "
I could tell this waitress must have been new. I hadn't seen her around here before.
"I know what I want. I'll have an orange juice and a garden salad with Italian dressing."
"Would you like chicken on the salad?"
"No thanks."
"Alright, I'll be right back with your drink."
The waitress left and Mike moved over to my table so he was sitting across from me. Quite a bold move.
"No chicken on your salad?" he asked me, quite surprised.
"Nope. I don't eat meat. And I have very little dairy. I'm a semi-vegan," I said, mimicking Mike's matter-of-fact tone.
"Wow. That's pretty cool. I don't think I'd have enough self-discipline to quit meat."
"Well, it's not completely about the fact that the animals are killed intentionally. I mean, the amount of animals killed by grain harvesting machines is unaccountable. I basically don't eat meat because the thought of it grosses me out a bit. I love animals to much to eat them."
Mike and I continued to talk, and my drink and salad were brought to me. His dog, apparently named Bruno, was quite the character. Mike and I seemed like very different people, but we were still getting along quite well. We were both twenty-three. He told me he was in Green Day, which really surprised me. I had a couple of their earlier albums, and wondered why I didn't recognize him before when he told me his name. I even had one of their posters on one of the walls at White Rabbit.
My salad was soon finished, and I had to get to work in ten minutes. I didn't want to be late.
"Oh shoot. It's five-twenty. I have to head out. I have work in ten minutes."
"Oh, alright. Hey, can I get your number before you go?"
"Sure. I'll just grab a pen," I said, rummaging through my bag. I found a pen and grabbed Mike's hand. I wrote down my number and tossed the pen back into my bag.
"See you around," I said, dropping a tip on the table for the waitress, and leaving. I made my way over to my jeep and opened the door. I slid in and started the car.
As I drove down the street, heading towards White Rabbit, I couldn't stop thinking about this Mike character. I liked the way he talked about things. It sounded like he was really passionate about what he did.
In lieu of giving my number to a guy from Green Day, I pulled out a Green Day album called Kerplunk out of my glove compartment. I popped it into my CD player and drummed my fingers along to the songs. I hadn't listened to this album that many times, but I really liked how it sounded.
I pulled up to White Rabbit and parked my Jeep in the lot. I got out of the car and entered the building I had just finished re-decorating. It was awesome. The walls were covered in bright posters for great bands, new and old. There were records hanging from the ceiling, and all the furniture was red. There was a listening station in the back so you could listen to some new records or albums we just received, and we even had an area for people to just chill out. Bright red couches and computers. We charged 5 bucks an hour for the Internet, which was a pretty good deal. We had a drink machine and a snack machine too. I was proud of all the work I had done to the place.
Meg, who was sorting some records in the 'Classic Rock' section, greeted me with an "Olive, I don't know how our customers manage to get these albums so out of order."
"Well hello to you too," I said, going to the back room where we had some new records that had arrived. Closing time was at six, which was in a half hour. I basically had to work the till until everyone was gone, count the money, and put the new records and albums out on display.
I checked just to make sure the new records had arrived. They were indeed there in big brown boxes, all stacked on top of each other. I left the back room and went back out to the till. There were probably people there that were waiting to buy stuff.
I took peoples money, gave them change, printed receipts, and bagged items for customers in a daze almost. I was still thinking about Mike. He was so neat. I liked him a lot. I hoped he'd call me soon. I couldn't wait to see him again. He knew so much about music, which is cool for me, because I know very few people who knew about the same artists or albums I did.
The half-hour at till flew by, and everyone had left except Meg, who was shutting the computers off.
"Meg, I'm gonna go to the back and get the new records out now."
"Alright Olive. Remember to put price tags on them. You forgot last time."
"No Meg, that was Ruby remember?"
"Right. Well, you guys look alike. I get you guys mixed up lots."
"Meg, she's eighteen and has long blonde hair. I'm twenty-three, and I have short, shaggy black hair. Plus she's eight inches shorter than me." I laughed. Ruby was only five foot one. I got the tall gene from my Dad, and she got the short gene from Mom.
I went to the back room and opened the door. I spotted the big brown boxes stacked by the back door, and took out my box-cutter. I sliced the first box open, and my eyes widened at what was inside.
What a coincidence. There, sitting in front of me were a bunch of copies of Green Day's new album, Insomniac. We didn't sell that many cds. We mostly sold records. There was a section in the back that had cds and cassettes though.
I took out my little gun that stuck price tags on stuff, and applied $16 price stickers to all the cds. I figured that would be enough.
*Mike's POV*
I walked home from the park with Bruno, and unhooked his leash from his collar. I heard noise in my basement, so I rushed downstairs to see what it was. No way in hell was a burglar gonna get outta my house uninjured.
I stopped at the foot of the stairs, realizing that it was just Billie Joe and Tre on my couch.
"Where were you Mike? We've been here for like twenty minutes?" Billie Joe asked me.
"Huh? How'd you guys get in here?"
Billie Joe rolled his eyes and replied.
"Don't you remember? We were gonna go see the new Ace Ventura movie. We're late now."
"Oh shit. Sorry man, I forgot. I was talking with someone at the park and lost track of time," I said, plopping down on the couch across from them.
"Ah. So whom were you talking to that was so much more interesting than Ace Ventura?" Tre asked, slightly pissed off.
"Oh, this girl Olive. She owns the White Rabbit."
"The White Rabbit? I got my Phantom of the Paradise record there! Well, did you at least get her number?"
"Yeah, I did. I think I'm gonna call her. She's really cool. She's an amazing guitarist too. She busks at the market a lot. The shopkeepers know her by name there."
"Cool. So, is she hot?" Tre asked.
"Uh, yeah. She's really pretty. She's tall, and she has short black hair. She's a vegetarian, which is cool. She's the closest thing to a hippie if I've ever seen one," I said, as Tre took out a couple joints from his pocket.
"Sweet. You should do her. Well, here's a joint. We may as well spend this time usefully, since we aren't seeing the movie. Plus, Ramona's been crying constantly, and I think I'm gonna crack if I stay at home any longer. Lisea's looking after her right now."
I laughed, totally not surprised at Tre's comment. I took the joint from his hand and lit it up.
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