“Bye!” Sheba yelled.
“GOODBYE!” Izzy yelled, and I tugged her back in before we were moving too fast. Once she was settled into her seat, Izzy started singing a Running Water song. Sheba jumped in on the melody and I sang harmony. Jimmy made instrument noises with his mouth that sounded pretty cool. He could actually make the sound of a trumpet. And for a guitar he sort of said the word twang, but in a way that sounded close to a guitar.
The farther we got from Roland Park, the fewer trees I saw. By the time Sheba parked the car near the record store, there were no trees, just pavement, street, sidewalk, stores, and cars. Though I’d lived in Baltimore my whole life, I’d never been on North Avenue. The first thing I noticed was that there were very few station wagons around. Most cars here looked either shinier and fancier—many were the color of jewels—or beat-up and barely drivable. Everyone on the sidewalk was Black and I imagined how uncomfortable my mother would be here. Jimmy, Sheba, and Izzy didn’t seem to notice that we were the only white people around.
We walked into the warehouse-size record store and Jimmy took a deep breath. “Fuck yeah,” he said.
I examined the store. Signs hung from strings above sections, naming the genre: Jazz, Funk, Rock, Soul/R&B, Classical, Folk, Blues, etc. Along the walls were listening stations that looked sort of like phone booths, but instead of a phone, each booth held a record player and headphones. The people who worked at the store all wore bright yellow-and-green-striped shirts, making them hard to miss.
“Why didn’t we come here on day one?” Sheba asked.
Izzy tugged my hand. “Where do we find the Broadway sidetrack records?”
“Over there.” I pointed to a sign that said Soundtracks.
A salesperson approached us. He was as skinny as a piece of licorice and had an Afro pick stuck in his hair. I thought it was a clever place to carry the comb, as the comb was too big for his pockets.
“How can I help you folks?” The guy smiled and jerked his head as if he were following a tennis game: Izzy, Sheba, me, Jimmy. “No way, man. No way. Jimmy and Sheba?” His smile grew.
“Yeah, man.” Jimmy pulled off the baseball cap, ran his fingers through his hair, and replaced the cap. “I need something new. Some jams that will inspire me, you know. I need a launching pad for my own shit.”
“NO WAY!” The guy looked behind him, as if to see if anyone else was seeing this. “Jimmy! I love Running Water! I know every Running Water song by heart!”
“We do too,” Izzy said.
“NO WAY! No way, man! I love both you guys! My whole family watched your show, Sheba. For years! YEARS!”
“Ah, you’re so kind.” Sheba smiled and I could see her sucking in this adoration like gold dust. She was glowing from it.
“My mother is going to DIE! This is UNREAL!”
“These are our nieces.” Sheba held her hand out toward Izzy and me. She flipped her sunglasses so they were propped on her head over the scarf.
The guy glanced at us, smiled, then turned back to Jimmy and Sheba. “Okay, okay, okay, so let me help you. Jimmy wants something inspiring. What do you want, Sheba?”
“I just want something fun,” Sheba said.
“I want Broadway sidetracks!” Izzy said.
“We got show tunes.” He laughed, smiling at Izzy. “We got everything, man. I’m gonna set y’all up. Wait here.” He held his hands up like stop signs. “Don’t move, okay? Like, not one step. Stay right here.”
“We’ll be right here, doll,” Sheba said.
The guy returned just a few seconds later, a small mob following behind him. The mob was made up of a bunch of guys and one girl. The girl was wearing a patchwork leather cap that I could imagine Sheba wearing on television.
“Holy moly, holy moly, I don’t believe this!” the biggest guy said. He stuck out his giant hand and shook Jimmy’s hand, then Sheba’s, then mine, and then Izzy’s.
“We’re record shopping,” Izzy said, and the man laughed.
“Look at her hair! Look at that cute hair!” the girl said, about Izzy. She was tall and had a face that was a perfect circle.
“Mary Jane is going to buy me show tunes!” Izzy said, and the big man laughed again, and then bent down and picked up Izzy. He looked even bigger with Izzy in front of him, like a giant holding a Munchkin.
The rest of the crowd leaned forward and shook all our hands, and then customers started noticing Jimmy and Sheba. Immediately three of the guys who worked there created a barricade, like bodyguards.