CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The first store we go into is way too foofy. There are turtlenecks on every mannequin and so much plaid I feel like I’ve been teleported to Scotland. I check out one of the price tags on a cashmere sweater and nearly choke on my own tongue. Fifteen hundred dollars? Are they insane?
Ty is looking around with a pained expression.
“You look constipated,” I say, trying not to laugh.
“I think I am getting constipated looking at these things.”
“Why are we even here?” I giggle.
“Because our style consultant told me this is where I need to shop.”
“Your style consultant needs surgery.”
“Surgery?” he asks, looking at me all confused.
“To get the stick removed from her butt.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.” He grins. “You want to get out of here?”
I nod. “Please.” This clothing is hurting my eyes. Everywhere I look there’s another dead animal: a fox fur collar on a suede coat; leather jackets; crocodile bags; snakeskin shoes. Ugh. It’s no better than a taxidermy shop.
We head out into the cool air, Ty’s hand easily sliding into mine. My heart soars once more. It wasn’t a fluke before! I thought he was going to ignore the handholding thing and pretend it never happened, but now it’s becoming a thing; we walk outside, we hold hands. Whee! I’m in high school for the first time, living the dream! I will my palms not to get sweaty.
He uses his free hand to point across the street. “What about that place?”
I check out the mannequins in the window. They don’t seem nearly as pretentious as the others. “That looks promising.”
We jaywalk, causing several cars to honk at us. We run and I squeal a little, freaking out that I’m breaking the law and doing something dangerous. Ty drags me along and then jumps up to the curb, laughing maniacally.
“That was crazy,” I say, out of breath. “Don’t do that again.”
“Too much living on the edge for you?” he asks as he pushes the door open.
“Yeah. Too close to the edge. I like to be more in the middle.”
“Living life in the middle. Hilarious.” He smiles at me so big, it makes my insides turn to jelly.
I have to look away to keep from saying something stupid. Time to get serious and stop all this girly-girling around. I drop his hand and search through the racks to find a few things that I like. I hold items up and he either nods or gives me a thumbs-down. By the time I have five of them gathered, he’s ready to leave.
“Aren’t you going to try them on?”
“No. I hate trying clothes on.”
“But we don’t know if they fit.”
He quickly looks at the tags. “They’re my size. Come on, let’s pay for them and go.”
I don’t understand his big rush. “Don’t be silly. You need to try these on.” He could waste his money in here so easily, and nothing is what I’d consider cheap.
He moves in closer and whispers in my ear, “We’re starting to get more attention than I think you want. People are taking pictures.”
My heart drops as I look around and realize he’s right. There are no fewer than three camera phones pointed right at me. It really pisses me off, and I head for the closest one without thinking. “Do you mind?” I demand in a harsh voice.
The camera slowly goes down. “What?” the young woman says. She looks to be about the same age as I am.
I say it louder because maybe she’s hard of hearing. “I said, Do you mind? We’re trying to have a private moment here.”
“Sorry . . . I was just . . .”
“I know what you were just doing. You were taking pictures or video of complete strangers, thinking you have the right to do that. But you don’t, okay? We’re allowed to shop without people taking pictures of us.”
Poor Ty. No wonder he’s always cranky. I have never appreciated the gift of anonymity more than I do now. It makes me realize how smart our mothers were for taking us so completely away from this scene. My sisters and I would have been so messed up, especially Em. Just imagining her being pinned down by a stranger like this infuriates me.
The woman turns and walks away, and I shift sideways to see the other person still filming me. The third person has turned her back and gone the other way, but lady number two is still at it. Oh, this is so not happening.
I walk over to her and put my hand right over the phone and shove it down. “Put it away.”
The girl gives me a look to kill. “Bitch, you have no right to touch my phone!”’
I’m taken aback by her anger. “Did you just call me a bitch?” I turn to look at Ty, to ask him if he believes this craziness, but he’s at the register, putting a wad of cash on the counter.
“Yeah, I called you a bitch. You don’t touch my stuff without my permission, you hear?” She moves in closer, her boobs just inches from mine.
I play this game with my sisters all the time. It’s called chicken, and I never lose. “How about you stay out of my private business, and then I won’t have to touch your stuff. How about that?” I bump her with my boobs. Chicken? Are you chicken yet?
“There ain’t no such thing as private business here. This ain’t your store.” She lifts her arm and waves it around her, effectively wafting her body odor up into my nose. “You’re out here in public, just like me. I can take pictures of whatever I want in public.” She smiles in full satisfaction of her knowledge of the rules of photography. She backs up a step, but her head is bobbing and weaving something awful. Her cranium looks like it could get disconnected from her spine at any moment.
I stare at her, not sure she’s right about that “being in public” thing. Maybe that is the law, but it sure isn’t very polite. “You know . . . people like you are the reason why people like Ty don’t want to leave their houses anymore.”
“Oh, yeah?” she laughs.
“Yeah. Why don’t you just give him a break? Let him live his life?”
“What’s it to you? You his new girlfriend?” She looks me up and down and snorts. I don’t think I passed her inspection.
“No.” I scowl at her, wishing I were wearing a cleaner patchwork skirt. “I’m a friend. And I’m worried about him, so why don’t you just mind your own beeswax.”
“Beeswax?” She snorts really loudly, waving her hand between us as she slowly backs away. “Fine, bitch. I’ll mind my own beeeeswax. And I’m gonna take some more pictures too. Ha!” She quickly throws her camera up and takes a picture of my face, the flash going off in my eyes.
I stand stock-still, gritting my teeth together and slowly closing my eyes, white lights ghosting against the inside of my lids. I’m going to count to five, and if that person is still here when I open them again, I’m probably going to have to slap her.
Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . .
Somebody touches my arm gently, making me practically jump out of my skin, but then I hear Ty’s voice in my ear and I calm down about the idea of giving someone a kung fu chop to the throat. I open my eyes. The woman is gone and my idea of heaven is standing next to me, but he doesn’t look any happier to be there than I am.
“Let’s go. I’ve got what I need.”
I look down at my hand. I’m still holding a denim jacket. “What about this?”
He grabs it and hangs it on the nearest rack. “Too nineteen eighties. Come on, let’s go.”
“You’re probably right.” I leave the store wholly depressed, Ty having to practically drag me now because holding hands doesn’t seem nearly as fun as it did before.
“You can’t engage with those people,” he says after a few blocks. “It’s pointless.”
“But she was so rude. I don’t know why people have to be so damn rude.”
“Believe me, I know.” We stand at the corner waiting for the light to change. “But they’re fans, so you just have to deal with it as best you can and move on.”
I look up at Ty, feeling so bad for him and anybody else who has to go through this. “But you should be allowed to go out in public and live your life without people stalking you.”
“It’s the price we pay.” He’s not looking at me.
I tug on his hand until he does. His eyes are bloodshot, redder than they were before. Is he sad? Mad? I can’t tell.
“But you deserve better than this.”
“This is what I signed up for. I knew if I became associated with the band that I was going to be sacrificing my private life. We all know this. You make a deal with the devil and you’ve gotta live with the consequences. Payment always comes due.”
I’m silent all the way to the next store. It’s a lot like the first one we went into—very chichi, as Carol would say. Foofy is what I call it.
“Are we going to be able to find something in here for you?” The whole idea of shopping is no fun for me anymore, and the wall-to-wall cashmere certainly isn’t making it any better.
“Probably not, but I don’t think they let people with cameras in here.”
I scope the place out and realize he’s right. There is a guard at the door and anybody who looks like the camera-carrying type isn’t allowed in. “Maybe that’s why your style consultant sent you to that first place.” I can’t think of anything more depressing right now than being forced to buy clothing made of animal skins and fur because of strangers who refuse to respect another person’s privacy. No wonder our mothers moved us out into the middle of nowhere.
“Maybe. Or maybe she’s just really out of touch. What do you think about this?” He holds up a jacket that looks really nice. I walk over and touch it, then look at the label. “It’s real suede. If you don’t mind wearing animal hide, I guess it’s cool.” I feel like crying.
“I’ve worn plenty of them before.” He looks closer at it.
I shrug.
He puts it back on the rack. “Maybe we can find some synthetic suede instead.”
My heart lifts the tiniest bit. He cares what I think.
He turns around, catching me smile. “You are such a hippie chick.” He smiles too.
I sigh. “Guilty.”
“It’s cool. I’m not giving you shit for it.” He unexpectedly grabs me by the side of the head, leans in, and kisses me on the forehead before he walks away.
I instantly go warm from my scalp to my toes. He kissed me! It wasn’t on the lips, but it doesn’t matter—it was tender and caring, qualities I don’t think Ty shows the world very often. We’re growing closer. I don’t know why or how it’s happening, but for this past hour, he has ceased being a jerk. I feel like I’m finally getting to know the real Ty.
There’s something behind those sunglasses, hidden in those eyes of his, that makes me believe he’s incredibly sad. Something that made him so desperate to get away from wherever he was, he sold his soul to the devil to get out . . . because I don’t believe it was just his love for Red Hot that spurred his ambition.
I wonder if I’m going to find out what that thing is. Or if I even want to. My inner conscience that has a voice very much like my mother’s tells me I’m probably better off not knowing what fueled his rise to the top. I have a feeling that the more involved I become with him, the farther I’m going to fall down a rabbit hole of my own. I just hope the devil isn’t waiting at the bottom, ready to offer me a deal I can’t refuse.