//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Sometimes You Make It... // by Indie Cred //------------------------------// He didn’t hate her. In fact, he still had rather strong feelings for her. They had just… grown apart. He had lost count of how many inventories he had done so far, reminiscing about lives past. They had met at one of his shows. He’d been playing for about four years, and was gaining a bit of a reputation in the underground music world. This was back when even a bad show still had three hundred in attendance. He had just finished up a show and was packing away his albums when she walked over. A beautiful unicorn with a white coat and a long flowing blue mane. “Hmm, a 45-adapter, eh? I take it you consider yourself a bit of a purist then?” Indie glanced at his cutie mark, a black 45-adapter, and then at the unicorn. “Sorta. I just prefer the way vinyl sounds, y’know?” “Oh me too. I’m Vinyl by the way. Vinyl Scratch.” “I like the way that sounds. Crud, that was really corny… I swear it sounded better in my head.” Vinyl laughed and then said “Don’t worry about it. I loved your choices for the night. Mind if I take a look at your collection for a moment?” “Go ahead. I was just packing up quick so I could grab a smoke.” “Smoke away, I’m gonna browse.” Vinyl began rummaging through the records, stopping every few to mutter “I gotta get that one…” or “Hey! I’ve got this one too!” Indie leaned back in the booth chair and took a long drag on his smoke. “Hey… It’s about time they start to lock up. Mr. Chance is probably going to kick us out soon. If you want to keep digging through my collection, how about we find an all night diner?” Vinyl stopped her rummaging and turned to face Indie. “Well Mr. Cred, if I’m not mistaken, you just asked me out.” “And if I did?” “Well, what do I get in return?” “Other than a free dinner and the pleasure of my company, that is?” “Well, since you put it that way, it’s a date.” Indie heard someone yelling, but didn’t register what was being said. He snapped out of his reverie, and looked up to see a team of Pegasi hauling a crate up to a high shelf. An earth pony was guiding from the ground and yelling “CLEAR OUT OF AISLE SEVEN! CRATE ON THE MOVE!” Indie attached the finished inventory sheet to a crate and moved to an outer aisle. Looking at his clipboard, he realized he had finished all the inventories he had for the day. “Fantastic.” He though. “Now I’ll have to go help with the load teams.” He set the empty clipboard back on the shift counter and stepped outside to grab another cigarette. Lighting it up, he looked at a billboard on the building across the street. It was another ad for DJ PON-3. “How do I not notice these things sooner?” He asked himself. He groaned softly, finished his cigarette, and stubbed it out on the sidewalk, before returning to work. “You’ve got quite the collection! I haven’t even heard of some of these.” Vinyl said, poring over the records in Indie’s saddle bag. “Yeah, I’ve been buying up whatever I can find for years. If it fits the style for a show, I put it in the rotation, if not it just gets played at home.” “You have more? How many?!” Vinyl exclaimed “I dunno. Three or four hundred? Something like that anyways. I’m running out of space in my apartment honestly. It’s pretty much just my bed, and my collection these days.” “Four hundred?! Oh my gosh! You have to let me come look sometime!” “Hah. Okay then. I guess we have a second date already.” “Hey, don’t get ahead of yourself. This is just one music enthusiast learning from another.” Indie smiled slyly. “No… This is one music enthusiast buying dinner for another, and then getting asked if said enthusiast can come back to my place.” “Call it whatever you want. I just want to see what four hundred albums looks like in one place…” Vinyl said, a dreamy look in her eyes. Indie hated working the lift crew. Not because it was hard work, but because he had to deal with other ponies for a while. It required close quarters with other Pegasi, yelling, and worrying about what would happen if he accidentally dropped one of the crates they were carrying. After a few hours of working lift crews, he wouldn’t mind so much though. He could get used to pretty much anything after a while, but those first few lifts always made him nervous. “CLEAR AISLE NINE! CRATE ON THE MOVE!” Yelled the earth pony, whose name Indie could never remember. He’d only spoken to him a few times, and it was general water cooler small talk. It was always “How about that weather?” or “So, do anything interesting this weekend?” Though he recognized his grey coat and red mane, Indie realized he had never even asked the earth pony’s name. He made a mental note to find out what his name was sometime soon.