“Point taken. Guard your heart, is all I’m saying. Amy wouldn’t want you to get hurt, and nor do I. Does she know who you’re seeing?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you’re definitely playing in the big league. Let’s find you some body armor.” He gestured toward Ruby as she returned with an armful of denim in various shades.
Right away, Nell pointed to the bubblegum pink fabric sticking out of the pile. “No pink. That’s a hard limit for me. And I’m not wearing anything that laces up the outside of the leg, either,” she added, eyeing some lacing and grommets. Johnny and Ruby looked at each other and snickered.
Ruby looked Nell up and down, considering. “You don’t look like a goth girl to me, so maybe not the all-black look in the summer heat, either.” Nell wouldn’t have minded black, but Ruby had already moved on. “Here’s a cream pair, and we could try these mid-blue ones, and — oh, this acid wash would look fantastic on you!”
Acid wash should go back to the Eighties, Nell grumbled to herself, stifling resentment as she found herself bundled into a changing cubicle with the light blue jeans. But the denim was soft to the touch and stretched comfortably over her thighs. The back pockets were embroidered with a scattering of silver stars. I could wear these.
Ruby clapped when Nell came out of the changing room. “Looks like you’ve found your brand! And it’s on a two-for-one promotion right now, so you should pick up a second pair. Let’s see…” And Nell ended up walking out of Bee Cute with the acid wash jeans and a pair of pale grey capris in her shopping bag. Johnny had a bag too, although she wasn’t sure what he’d bought.
“Happy with those?” he asked, as the two of them stepped out into the street. “Because they look more than fine. Your legs and ass are on fire, cutie.”
Nell nodded. “These’ll do.” She almost tacked on a half-hearted don’t call me cutie, but she recognized that it was a genuine compliment and couldn’t bring herself to object.
“What about a rock shirt for your top half?”
“I’m good.” Nell grinned. “I have a Dexter Gordon Club House Session t-shirt.”
He laughed out loud at that. “Bringing jazz to a rock festival. I like it.” He turned to look her in the eyes and said, “My buddy Rhys from back home is touring with Smidge right now. He’ll be at Time Rock. He’s a good guy — Amy knows him too — so if you have any problems, find him. I’m going to message him to watch out for you.”
Eamonn isn’t going to hurt me, she wanted to say, but she only smiled. “Thanks, Johnny.”
At the bus stop, as her bus was pulling in, Johnny pushed his plastic shopping bag from Bee Cute into her hands. “Here. Gift. Bet you won’t wear this, but… I dare you. Go knock Time Rock on its ass.” And he was striding away down the crowded sidewalk before she could say or do anything in response, and the bus door was open, the driver waiting, so she didn’t have a choice but to board it.
That night, Nell had trouble sleeping. This is ridiculous, she thought, cautiously rolling over and flipping her pillow for the hundredth time.
When Eamonn had called to say they had a flight booked for 11:45 AM the next day, he’d also asked if she wanted to go out for dinner and then stay the night with him. She’d said no.
The idea of spending so much time with someone, when she was used to her own place and space, had her a bit on edge. I don’t want to get dependent on his company. But she had to admit that she’d be sleeping better with his big warm body next to hers. At least her back pain had subsided to mild discomfort, and the bruise on the side of her head only hurt when she touched it.
Eventually, sleep did come. She then slept through her alarm and had to rush her workout and shower — not an auspicious start to a travel day.
Her phone pinged. A message from Amy popped up — No hair ties! Hair loose, use mousse. Wear the new jeans!
Nell laughed ruefully and took off the yoga pants she’d planned to wear. That woman knows me too well. With a shrug, she finger-combed a handful of mousse through her still-damp hair. Instead of her usual sunscreen, she applied the sunscreen moisturizer Johnny had given her, and the barely-there shimmer just looked healthy and summery. Fine. A little bit of smudgy eye pencil, and she was done. I’ll do eyeshadow and mascara at Time Rock, but this is enough for now.
She double-checked the contents of her backpack and purse. The Dexter Gordon t-shirt and grey denim capris were there, folded and ready, along with a sleep shirt and matching shorts, a tank top and a pair of athletic shorts, underwear and socks. Deodorant, she thought, and added it to the bag. With a shake of her head, she tucked her yoga pants in where she’d taken the acid wash jeans out, and added her bathing suit and a stretchy black velour going-out shirt, just in case. For the plane, she’d decided to wear a martial arts t-shirt — a way of saying this is who I am to the cameras and curiosity she’d been warned about. Makeup bag, check. Tablet, earbuds, phone, check. Two books, just in case, check.
That had to
