Chapter 6
Valley walks over as I step out of my car. She always looks like a million freaking bucks to me. So sexy in that cool, rocker chick sort of way, and her makeup is always perfect.
“Holy shit! When you said haircut, you meant haircut! It looks amazing. You look like a different person.”
I run my fingers through the very short back, feeling the loss of what used to be my messy bun. “Not too much gone. Too short?”
“Hell, no, you’re a smoke show. Turn around.” Valley twirls her finger.
I grab my bag, shut the car door and do a twirl right in my driveway.
“And new clothes, too. I didn’t even know you wore heels.”
“Just new shoes and this jacket,” I say, referring to the block heel sandals and long, tailored leopard-print jacket with leather trim I purchased right off the mannequin at a boutique down the street from Francisco’s salon.
My phone rings. I startle and quickly fish it out of my bag. “Mitch!” I say, thinking I only said it in my head.
“Who’s Mitch?” Valley asks, her left eyebrow raised. “Other than someone who makes you jump and say his name like an orgasm.”
An expression like that from Valley is not unexpected. She starts to walk away. “Answer your phone, girl. I’ll send your kid home in a few.”
Always obedient, I answer on the third ring, hoping I don’t sound too breathless and excited.
“Uhm, hey, Posey. It’s uhm, it’s Mitch.” He seems nervous.
“Hello, Mitch,” I reply as I school my voice into a too low, phone sex operator voice. I’m a ridiculous mess. About a phone call.
“So, I moved some things around and I can start seeing Van for a second lesson each week. Is tomorrow too soon?”
“Yes, I mean no, it’s not too soon. And yes, that’s great!”
Why do I feel like I’m a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl whenever I talk to this guy? I haven’t really noticed anyone since the moment I laid eyes on Donnie years ago, but something about Mitch feels familiar, comfortable.
Mitch laughs. Probably at my awkward response. I picture his face—his cocked smile and his crinkled eyes—and a flush comes over my body. “See you tomorrow, Posey. Same time as Tuesday’s lesson. Tell Van to be ready!”
“Oh, I will. See you tomorrow.”
My thoughts instantly start a countdown to five o’clock tomorrow, mentally rifling through my closet for what to wear and wondering if Mitch will like my new look.
Suddenly, I’m struck with an idea for the #coolNerd graphics. I rush inside, pull off my new jacket and throw it and my bag onto one of the barstools at the island. I charge down the hall to my studio but peek into Van’s room to tell him he has an additional lesson with Mitch each week, starting tomorrow.
“Cool,” he responds.
“Oh, and I just got inspired for my latest project. I gotta get this down.” I continue down the hall but yell over my shoulder, “Do you think you could throw something together for yourself and Shane for dinner? Frozen pizza, ramen, something?”
“Sure, Mom.”
When I get to my office, I make a beeline for my desk, set up my laptop and turn it on. I’d planned to google Sid Cooper and never did, but now that I need some background to develop this idea, it’s a good time to start. The #coolNerd album is called You Are My New Home, which is also the name of the first single to be released. I need to find out about Sid Cooper’s home.
Sid was born in Boston, but has lived in Downers Grove, Illinois, since the age of six months when he was adopted. His mother is Kimberly Cooper, but there’s little detail. I don’t find a death date, so I guess she’s still alive. His adoptive father’s name is Gil Cooper. I wonder why his birth mother and adoptive father have the same last name. Further research reveals that Clip Cooper, former NFL player and now coach, is his brother, and Minnie Cooper Snackenberg is his sister. I think I’ve read some of her articles in Vogue or somewhere. This is a family of achievers. There’s nothing about a girlfriend or wife, so I’m wondering who the “you” in “You Are My New Home” is. I shift over to images and google “Downers Grove” and am immediately captured by the photos of the town. The sweet old train station, people in a coffee shop, kids on bikes. The one that most attracts me is a photo from a time before technology kept us at home and people met in public places to talk and get information. This picture could be from the fifties or sixties, but judging by the cars and clothes it’s probably more like the nineties.
Since I’m only doing a mock-up, I screenshot the picture and start on the graphics. I bookmark the page for inspiration later. If this works, we’ll have to go to Chicago to get custom shots for the artwork.
I’m so involved in my work I don’t hear Van and Shane knock on my studio door.
“Mom, dinner!” Shane’s voice cuts through my fog of concentration as he runs into my studio.
I lift my head from the computer and turn toward the door.
Shane stops short. “Whoa! You cut your hair. Like, really short!”
My face tightens with concern. “Is it OK? Do… do you like it?” I reach up and touch the back of it.
“It’s different,” Van chimes in.
Shane tilts his head as he follows up with, “But cool, like Katy Perry or that girl from Harry Potter.”
“Emma Watson,” Van tells him.
“Yeah, her.” Shane grins.
“OK. Katy Perry and Emma Watson are OK with me.” I’m surprised they even noticed my hair. They didn’t comment on my makeup and manicure. Maybe that isn’t as drastic a change. Or maybe boys don’t notice things like that.