Amorous Goods: The Rockabilly Travelling Pants

Thanks for reading my Halloween Story Contest 2023 and "Amorous Goods, Season 04" Author Challenge.

Thanks to jaF0 for starting the "Amorous Goods" challenge, and please have a look at some of the others. This is not your typical I/T story or for that matter, a typical Halloween story. I hope you enjoy it.

Prologue:

A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she finds out that something has cursed or enchanted many of the goods with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. These are the stories of some of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods.

===

Lawrence hummed along to the show tune playlist rolling out of his car's radio. He liked show tunes. Didn't matter from when or where, he could listen to songs from The Mikado through to Hamilton for hours. It was better if an oboe, his favourite instrument to play, had a major role, but that was rare. The romantic resolution from Beauty and the Beast stage play ... He loved that part.

The rain, heading towards sleet didn't bother him. The thump of the wipers on the old 1979 Accord was comforting in their metronomic consistency. It was nearly twice as old as he was, but defied everyone's expectations by refusing to die. Lucille, his older sister, would often mock him for driving the brown car that used to be their grandparents', but he felt a duty to keep it as long as it was functional..

As he approached the next turnoff on the Interstate, his stomach growled, reminding him he left the base with only a shot of coffee in his stomach. He was making good time, so he figured he could stop for a bite and a coffee. The trip home from DC normally took about five hours, and he'd promised his Mom he'd be home for dinner, so there wasn't any reason to rush.

He pulled off the highway and found the ubiquitous yellow and red burger sign. Base food was okay, but he occasionally craved a greasy burger and heavily salted fries. Pulling into the car park, he hesitated and thought about just getting drive-thru, but getting burger grease on his clean shirt wasn't something he wanted to deal with. Eating in was the safer option.

He ordered his meal and found a quiet corner booth away from the other few pre-lunch customers. The burger was deliciously average, and the coffee was surprisingly good. He settled back and picked up a discarded local paper and started flicking through it. Lawrence wasn't really interested in the news, but the composition differed from most current newspapers. It was typeset in a very unusual 1930s style - so odd he checked the date to make sure it wasn't out of a museum.

The date was current. He figured it must have been a marketing ploy to make it stand out from the rapidly dwindling competition and kept flicking through the pages. He stopped when he got to the classifieds and a small ad caught his eye:

Amorous Goods

Curios from Around the World

Sale on Musical Items. 20% off

Open most days

12 - 8 pm

'Huh,' he thought. 'Never heard of that place. Might be worth spending some time looking for something for the collection.'

In his early teens, Lawrence had found joy in digging through boxes in garage sales, looking for vinyl records that no one else wanted. He couldn't believe he bought a pristine Reader's Digest Greatest Hits of Broadway box set for five dollars. His budget had grown slightly since he had joined the US Air Force band just over three years ago, and that had allowed him to expand his collection. Those ten LPs still were his favourite. He didn't buy things for any specific reason, just that he liked it. His sister, whom he loved but still thought was annoying as hell, constantly made snide comments about his musical tastes and oddball collection.

Lawrence tapped a finger on the table, wondering if he really needed to spend the time poking around a shop that didn't even come up in a web search. On the other hand, it wasn't quite Halloween, and he wanted to buy some nice Christmas presents for his family to make up for him being on tour with the Air Force orchestra through November and December. Being selected from hundreds of applicants was great, but you can't say no to a deployment.

He shrugged and turned the page, but his mind didn't want to leave. He turned back to the advertisement and looked up the address again on his phone. It wasn't too far away, and he thought a bit of free time exploring a new, unknown shop would be fun. He ultimately hoped to find a vintage English horn to complement his relatively new Fox oboe, but that was unlikely. People knew they were unusual and priced them accordingly.

'Well, I've got the time. It's worth visiting for a half hour.' He checked the address again on his phone and went out to his car. A short time later, he parked outside an old mansion that had seen better days. Even in the daytime, it looked downright spooky. It seemed an odd place for an antique store, but Lawrence assumed it was part of a small business complex in the old building. The upkeep of a building this size would be horrendous.

Lawrence walked up the path and through the front door. The place looked so familiar, like many stores he had visited before. Glass cabinets filled with smaller items, miscellaneous furniture placed randomly on the floor, and shelving around the walls with notes in beautiful copperplate script describing the items on them. He scanned the room, looking for a salesperson or anything musical.

"Good afternoon Sir, welcome to Amorous Goods. Can I help you with anything?"

He jumped at the voice behind him and turned. "Oh! Ah, good afternoon. I saw the advertisement about your sale of musical items, so I thought I'd have a look around."

The lady gave him a warm smile and waved to a doorway. "Certainly, this way. My name's Vikki and I'm the owner. We have a small, but eclectic mix of musical artefacts, ranging from the very modern back to the Romantic era. Is there anything specific you're looking for?"

"That's quite a spread. You wouldn't have an early English horn in your collection?"

Vikki laughed, a sound like a stream happily falling down a green, rock-filled chasm. "A cor Anglais? No, unfortunately. They are a lovely instrument. Do you play?"

Lawrence nodded. "Well, mostly the oboe, but I'd love to have my own horn."

"Well, leave me your details and I'll get in touch if I see one. But," Vikki said, opening a glass cabinet and carefully lifting out a folder, "this may interest you."

Lawrence took the folder and opened it. Inside was a yellowed handwritten manuscript with 'Tuonelan joutsen' and the name 'Jean Sibelius' written at the top. He stared at the music and looked up at Vikki. "No, it can't be... Sibelius wrote this specifically for the cor Anglais, but his manuscript vanished over one hundred years ago. It's a masterpiece," he whispered, pointing a shaking finger at the folder. "This... This is real?"

Vikki nodded. "All our goods are real. Even the fakes, but we let you know before you buy those. This is genuine."

"But... How?"

Vikki shrugged. "I believe my uncle visited a rummage sale in Philadelphia which had some other items he was particularly interested in. This was part of the collection. Are you interested in it? I can see you are a true connoisseur. But," she said, seemingly staring deep into his soul, "orchestral music isn't your passion, is it? You would love to play a different style."

"I love musicals."

Vikki gave a quick shake of her head. "No, that's not it. You love them, but you're not passionate about them. It's ok, I won't tell your commander."

"How did you know I was military?"

"Educated guess, plus your haircut. There aren't many bands with professional oboe players around here. Air Force?"

Lawrence nodded. "Just promoted to Senior Airman."

"Congratulations. So?"

He bit his bottom lip, wondering how this woman knew he had a secret longing, something he told no one. "Rockabilly. I would love to play the guitar well and sing rockabilly."

"Yesss... That makes perfect sense. The complete opposite to such a technically difficult instrument to play. Raw, passionate, intense. We know about that here." Vikki smiled and clapped her hands together. "Well then, this may interest you."

Lawrence followed her to a rack of clothes. "Do you recognise this?" she asked, lifting out a pink jacket and black pants.

He pushed up his glasses. "It looks like what Elvis wore on the Milton Berle show, but that's at Graceland, isn't it?" Lawrence said, peering at the sleeve.

"That's debatable. We've tried to confirm the provenance of these, but that's been... elusive. The shirt was sold about ten years ago by his hairdresser. We know definitely that Brian Setzer owned these, then Michael Barratt, over in England. My uncle found them in a Florida storage locker that was auctioned off, and here they are."

"Brian Setzer - The Stray Cats and Michael Barratt - Shakin' Stevens? No, this jacket looks brand new. It can't be over sixty, or even thirty, years old."

"It's the quality '50s rayon. It never fades," Vikki said dryly. "Plus, I'm certain the outfit has other qualities we haven't been able to determine."

"Huh." Lawrence rubbed his chin. The manuscript was more his collection style, but the outfit called to him. He didn't know why, but the attraction was strong. The problem was the price of either. 'Jean Sibelius' wasn't a household name, but the manuscript would be priceless to a serious collector. And the jacket? If Elvis Presley did own it, he could say goodbye to his yearly salary and then some. Even being owned by the other two singers gave the items some serious cachet.

"What are we asking for them?" said Vikki, answering his unspoken question. "This is my uncle's store, and now that he's passed, I prefer to sell the goods to those who will truly appreciate them. What I could get for them is almost irrelevant. We also have payment plans for the right people."

Lawrence licked his lips and gingerly took the jacket from Vikki. There was the Lansky Bros. tag, right where it was supposed to be. If it wasn't real, it still came from the shop that dressed Elvis.

"You can try it on if you like. I'd be interested to see if it fits."

The jacket looked like it was too large, but he felt compelled to try. One arm went in loosely, but the other was okay. He shrugged his shoulders, and it draped itself over him like it was custom made.

"Yesss, I knew it," whispered Vikki. Raising her voice, she said, "Now that looks good on you."

"Thank you, thank you very much," he rasped. "How much for both?"

"How about one hundred for the manuscript and three for the outfit?"

"Are you sure?" he asked as he handed the jacket back. "Even if Elvis didn't own them, they come from the same place he bought his clothes from. They're worth a lot more than that."

"I'm sure, but you are meant to have them. The only additional condition I'd like to ask is if you ever decide to dispose of either of them, you give me first right of refusal. Oh, and please let me know if anything... unusual happens. You see, some of our goods tend to have a mind of their own."

"Well, ok I guess. You have yourself a deal."

===

"Hello, anybody home?" Lawrence yelled as he opened the kitchen door to his parent's house. He didn't expect an answer. His dad was somewhere over the Atlantic piloting an Airbus, his mom would be at the mall buying last-minute Halloween fixings, and Lucille would be curling some old lady's hair at the salon. He wandered to his room and tossed his duffle bag on his bed, then carefully hung his new outfit behind his door.

"Now, why did I buy you? It's not like I can wear you anywhere, although I'm surprised you fit so well." On an impulse, he pulled a white shirt out of his wardrobe and removed his jeans. He skeptically examined the high-waisted pegged trousers he had recently bought. They looked like they were made for someone at least three inches taller. He shrugged and pulled them on. They were comfortably tight, and a good length. "That's amazing. I was sure you'd be too long."

Lawrence put on the white shirt and picked up the jacket. He didn't have a mirror in his room, but his sister did. Fashion was her thing, not his. "You know, it is a good look. Elvis certainly knew how to dress to impress," he said to himself in her mirror. "The glasses are okay, but maybe I should try contacts again."

"Laurie, you home?"

"Yeah Mom, just getting changed. Be out in a minute." He quickly changed back into jeans and a tee, then went to find his mom.

"Hi Sweetie, have a nice drive?"

He gave his mom a quick peck on her cheek. "Weather wasn't great, but I survived."

"I'm glad. You driving that car in such bad weather worries me. I really wish you think of buying something newer, especially with your promotion. So, I talked to Mrs Riley..."

Lawrence grimly smiled and sat down to listen to his mom go through all the gossip he hadn't heard since his last visit. He wasn't interested in the trivial life of the town, but he didn't want to seem rude and leave.

"And Stacy is staying here for a few nights. Did you know she's broken off her engagement with Kevin? I knew that boy was no good. Imagine, him going off with Stacy's mom. Mrs Lovejoy said she was sure there was something going on, her wandering around in nothing but that red bikini while he was mowing the lawn. Obviously, the poor girl can't stay at home in that situation."

Lawrence's ears pricked up at that tidbit. Stacy was one of his sister's longest friends. Totally hot and she completely ignored him whenever she came over. "Stacy is staying here? Where?"

"Oh, we set up a camp bed in your father's office. Lucy wanted to put her in your room, but I think she forgot you were coming home for Halloween."

"Yeah, probably." She hadn't forgotten. He'd been tagged in an Insta post of Lucille and Stacy in their Halloween costumes a couple of days ago, but there was nothing about her staying over. This was news he was interested in. "So, for how long?"

"Just a week. She has a new apartment, but she can't move in just yet. Are you going to the Halloween karaoke party at Rick's Bar tonight?"

"No, didn't know about it."

"Really? I thought Lucy would have told you. It's been in the paper and on the radio. Last year was a big success, so they're hoping to repeat it."

Lawrence sighed. "Mom, Lucy doesn't really tell me anything. She never has. You know that."

"Well, she should. Lucy is always telling her friends how great it is that the Air Force accepted you as a musician, and she thinks it's great you spend so much time away from home, travelling around the country. I think she's jealous."

"Yeah. Jealous. That must be it. Look, Mom," he said, glancing at his watch, "I need to go and wash the car. It's covered in road grime, and I want to make sure it's clean when Grammy comes over."

"That's a nice thought, dear. She'll love that you're taking such good care of her old car, but I still think you should buy something newer. I'll see you at dinner?"

"Sure."

===

"I'm sure I said something. It's not like me to not say something about the biggest event in town to my little brother, is it Stace?"

"Very unlike you Cille, although we have had a lot happening, what with my mom fucking my fiancee. Bitch. I so hate both of them."

Lawrence tried hard not to stare as Stacy readjusted her well-filled Jessica Rabbit outfit. Her long natural red hair initially attracted his attention, and her expanding chest and curves just cemented that lust. "Yeah, that's fine Lucy. Don't do me any favours. I'll stay home with Mom and hand out candy."

"That's a good boy. Well, the theme is "Stage and Screen", so your Harry Potter outfit would be suitable, but tickets are sold out. That's sad, isn't it Cille?"

"Definitely. Well, we'd better leave. Steph just said she's just mixed a jug of margaritas and needs someone to share it with."

The two women bounced out of the house, giving him a quick wave. He waved back, although he wanted to give his sister the middle finger. Lawrence wanted to give Stacy something else, though. 'Fuck, she's even hotter now. How could that idiot do that to her?' he thought as he went to the kitchen to get a soda.

===

"You should go out to Rick's, Sweetie, and see your friends. You don't need to keep me company."

"It's fine, Mom. I've had a long day, and I could just do with an early night. Besides, I don't have a costume, and I don't have a ticket."

"But it's only ten. We're not going to get anymore trick or treaters, so go. Wear that nice pink jacket and black pants you have hanging up. You'll look great."

"Mom!" he said, then softened his tone. Asking her to stay out of his room was pointless. "It's not a costume. It's a piece of history I picked up."

"Well then, what about the Harry Potter one?"

"No. Just no. Ok, ok, I'll go in the pink jacket. It's a onetime only though. I don't want to damage it."

"Well, you should get going then. Talk to Harry. He'll be on the door. I think they'll have a spare seat for a military man."

He trudged back to his room and put the outfit on. His mom didn't understand that he wasn't as popular as Lucy. For some unknown reason, she always thought her sister's many friends were also his. Lucy was blonde, curvy in the right areas, and could talk a cat away from its tuna can. He was the opposite. Short, thin and introverted.

"Well, let's go for a drive to the dive," he muttered. "Bye Mom. See you in the morning, I guess."

"No, wait Laurie, I want to see you in your new... Oh, my... You are so handsome. So... special."

"Well, thank you ma'am. Thank you very much." Lawrence gave a quick shake of his head to try and get rid of a weird buzz in his ear. "I, umm, better go."

"I'll see you later," his mom purred.

He closed the kitchen door and slid into his car. Frowning, he wondered what on earth his mom meant? "That was odd," he said to no one.

===

"Hi Lor, long time, no see. How's your dad?"

"He's fine, thanks Harry. I think he'll be home the day after tomorrow." He shuffled his feet and said to the older man, "Look, I know it's a ticket-only night, but Mom wanted me to drop by and ask if I could get in."

Harry shook his head. "Sorry, not a seat left. Karaoke plus real bands has been a winner, and being Halloween... Although," he said, scratching his chin, "You're a musician. You play the licorice stick, don't you?"

"Oboe. A licorice stick is usually a clarinet."

"Close enough. Can you sing?"

"Sort of, not very well. Why?"

"If you go on stage, there's a small area we've set aside to warm up or relax your nerves. Best I can do."

Singing wasn't something Lawrence liked. He had to learn as part of his music training, but he thought a bag of fighting cats sounded better. He looked up as the door opened and glimpsed Stacy bulging out of her tight red dress. "Ok, why not? Just the one song."

"That's the spirit," Harry said, lightly punching his shoulder. "So, what's the outfit? Don Johnson from Miami Vice?"

"It's supposed to be early Elvis Presley."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I can see that. A bit of advice then. Take off your glasses before you get on stage. You look like Buddy Holly." He pushed open the door. "Go to the left of the bar and see Matt. Tell him what you want to do, and good luck."