Don't Fred Cheney   © Copyright 2026 by Fred Cheney

Photo by Annaëlle Quionquion: at Pexels.

I hadn't gone into Marty's Music-Mart with the idea of stealing a CD. I had just wanted to fill some time while my mother and sister picked out dresses for a wedding the next day. So in I went. I wasn't even thinking about any particular music. I was just filling some time, and then it caught my eye: "Reckless Kelly Was Here."

It was a boxed set with two CDs and a DVD of a show in Houston. I had no idea Reckless Kelly had released a project like that. I looked at it. It would be so awesome to have that! I looked at the price. It would be pretty awesome to have that much money.

The phone behind the counter rang. My eyes were drawn to the sound. I saw Marty turn back to and answer it, then start writing down an order. Without thinking, I pushed the boxed set under my sweater. That was easy I thought. Now I just have to get out of here.

Marty's was an old shop. It didn't have scanners by the door like the stores at the mall. It was as good as done.

I was just reaching for the door handle when Marty said, "Just a minute son. Bring that Reckless Kelly back here. Put it on the counter."

I did as I was told. I wanted to apologize, or say that I wasn't really a crook, but my throat tightened up; it was all I could do to breathe. I was sweating and shaking and wondering if Marty was going to call the police.

Instead, Marty looked me straight in the eye. "Don't ever come in my store again."

That was it.

I heard my mother and sister long before I saw them in the crowded street. They were laughing at something as they pranced down the sidewalk with shopping bags, bumping into one another.

"Freddie-ee-ee!" my mother called, waving as though they were just getting home from Europe or something. She often clowned around like that.

"Oh, Freddie, we've had the best time shopping. It's time you had some fun. Let's go get a burger at Chubby’s-Hubba-Hubba."

My mother locked an arm in mine, and my sister did the same on the other side. Down the sidewalk we all marched to my favorite burger joint. My mother and sister were still laughing and talking and pushing into me as we got to Chubby’s and went in.

In the booth, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Chubby’s-Hubba-Hubba was my favorite place, and here I was. And Marty's was a place I could never go in again.