Connected (Connections, #1)(66)
I quickly select a few things to hold me over until I figure out if River has a washer and dryer or until I go home. Approaching the cash register, I hear the urgent pulsing, almost soaring track of an unmistakable musical opus. The distorted vocals, heavy electronic chords, and pounding bass beat all mixed together are undeniably the masterpiece of Justin Timberlake’s Sexy Back.
Looking around to figure out where the music is coming from, I finally determine it is my purse singing. As the word sexy blares out and the lyrics of the first verse come to an end, I can’t help but smile and step out of line. Reaching into my bag, I grab my phone. The name River Wilde is flashing across my screen.
“Heeelllooo,” I beam, glancing toward the front of the store. There he is, leaning against the wall between two glass window cases. His foot is propped against the pink flowery wallpaper of the store’s decor. He has one of his hands in his pocket and the other is holding his phone to his ear. He smiles his full dimple smile and I smile back. Holding his phone out for me to see, he then puts it back to his ear. “Do you like the ringtone I picked?”
I watch as he pushes the phone to his shoulder as a couple of fan girls approach him, pens in their hands. He gives them an obligatory grin and signs the back of one’s shirt and the shoulder of the other’s. Shaking my head and rolling my eyes that he claimed no one really notices him; I bring myself back to the ringtone issue. I guess he must have assigned himself that ringtone when he added us to each other’s contacts. “Yeah, I do actually, Mr. I’m Not Really That Famous,” I answer while giving him a thumbs up and raising my shoulder indicating that I want an autograph too while miming a pen in my hand. Then I add while giggling, “But I didn’t know sexy ever left.”
Shaking his own head, he hangs up the phone. I almost stop breathing from his perfection as he charmingly waves goodbye to his two groupies and starts walking toward me. I step out of line to greet him. “Hey sexy didn’t you . . .” I start to ask when he’s close enough, but he ducks his head and kisses me, quickly preventing me from finishing my question.
“Hey sexy yourself”, he says when he pulls away, and I’ve forgotten what I was going to ask and figure it didn’t really matter anyway. Before taking my hand, he pretends to sign his name on my shoulder, and his touch sends shivers up my spine. “Thank you Mr. Rockstar,” I say and then he leads me back to the line.
Leaving the store, he takes the bags. “I have something I want to show you.”
“What? The line of groupies outside waiting for you to sign their bare skin?” I joke.
“No smart ass, that was random and seriously hardly ever happens.”
“If you say so, but you can give me an autograph any day of the week,” I concede and smile over at him, dropping the subject.
We hop on the Green Trolley that travels between The Grove and the Farmers Market and get off at The Entertainment Center. The complex has dozens of buildings of all shapes and sizes. It is located on a landscaped park with picnic areas in the center. It even has a dancing fountain. There is a lively crowd of people walking around. Some of the entertainment seekers have shopping bags in their hands, while others walk casually drinking coffee or eating pretzels. The street-grid layout of the sidewalk and older looking buildings makes the area feel like an old-fashioned downtown.
Exiting the trolley first, I grin as River steps off and moves behind me. Pressing his front to my back, he wraps his arms around my waist and guides me into an open red brick, double arched building. When my eyes adjust from the sunlight to the much darker room, I see lights and hear sounds everywhere. We’ve just walked into an arcade. It’s very much like the one I frequented with my dad so many years ago. Shaken with emotion, overcome by happiness, and full of joy, I turn around, throwing my arms around him and kiss him. He runs his tongue across the roof of my mouth before closing his lips around mine.
With labored breaths, I pull away. I clutch his shoulders while he wraps one arm around my waist, the other still holding my bags. “An arcade? Here at The Grove?”
“Yeah, I thought you’d like it.”
“Like it? I love it.”
Looking around, I see so many black stalls, all of which house video games from the eighties. There’s Mousetrap, Asteroids, Centipede, Frogger, Pac-Man, Space Invaders, and Venture. Along with Skee Ball, driving games, and even a Chicken Clucker.
The sounds, smells, and excitement of years gone by are right here, right now, and I can’t believe it. They remind me of a non-looping ambient audio track—beep, blip, ding, buzz, and a click. Closing my eyes and just listening, I can clearly recall myself hanging out at the local arcade with my dad while feeding quarter after quarter into Ms. Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, and of course, the pinball machines. My dad was a pinball wizard, and he taught me well.
His favorite pinball machine was Flash Gordon. It was the first multi-ball table I ever played. It was equivalent to Black Knight, but better and faster. The table was amazing, and just the thought of getting that ‘fifteen seconds’ still gives me an adrenalin rush. I remember the first extra ball was easy to land, but getting the second was always a big challenge.
My favorite, of course, was Baby Pac-Man. It wasn’t the game for everyone, and my dad didn’t really like it because the flippers aimed at the center of the game instead of the sides. I thought this offered greater challenges; he thought it was a flawed table design. It really did make getting to the mazes difficult, which I thrived on.