"I do." Nicole admitted quietly. "I just don’t know if I’m ready for this."
"How long ago did you break up?"
"The end of May." It was now the first of August.
"Fresh enough that the emotions are still there, but far enough away that the body misses the attention. Come upstairs with me." Jenny stood and offered her hand.
"I." Nicole hesitated. If she were to accept the invitation, she would be stepping so far out of character she would not recognize herself. In a single instant, a hundred thoughts ran through her head. She thought of what Laurel could be doing on tour, and the women the bassist might add to her considerable sexual history. She thought about the rejection she recently suffered as she tried to locate the bassist to apologize. She thought about how much she yearned for human contact, and she thought about how lonely it was at night. "Alright." Her hand shook a little, but she placed it in the one offered.
"You won’t regret this, I promise."
The comparison was inevitable. Nicole had to work to make Laurel display any aggression. The bassist preferred to take their love making slow and easy. She would often draw things out so far that Nicole would be begging for release. Jenny was not like that. While the other photographer was gentle, there was urgency behind her movements. Nicole was surprised to find herself just as aggressive and hurried. Her body missed the attention of a warm mouth and a gentle hand. The release, when it came, was nice, but not earth shattering. Nicole understood then just how lucky she had been to find Laurel, and how stupid she had been to let her go. Still, Jenny had been right. Nicole did not regret the interlude. It helped clarify things more than all the thinking she had done recently. The sex was nice, but it was not great. Her heart was not in it. That made all the difference.
Chapter Nineteen
They had pulled into town that morning and checked into their hotel. They would be leaving again in the morning. Laurel barely knew where she was half the time now. Every day they were someplace new. The concert was not until that evening, and most of the people on tour were using their free time to catch up on sleep. Only a handful of them wanted to stay awake. Harold and one of the other managers rented a van and suggested a trip to the mall. Having nothing else to do, Laurel decided to go along.
The mall was large and boasted two music stores. She appreciated that. She was in the mood for something different. She was tired of the music she heard or sung night after night. Her laptop played CD’s as well as DVD’s, but she had not brought any with her. She left her portable CD player and her travel case of CD’s at home. It was one of the few things she forgot to pack. That would soon be remedied though. She had the money to buy more CD’s; she just did not know what she wanted.
She was also in need of clothing. Her favorite pair of jeans now had a large rip down the butt. That happened a few days prior during a concert. It was embarrassing, but she managed to keep the audience from learning about it, mainly by not turning her back on them. BJ and Steve still picked on her about it. She could not wait until something like it happened to one of them.
Most of the stores had their summer clothes on sale since it was the first August and most people were buying winter clothes. Laurel managed to find some good deals on shirts, but was forced to pay full price for jeans. They were not considered summer clothes. That irritated the bassist. She wore jeans during the summer. It was the true test of toughness. People may pick on Southerners for getting cold easily, but Laurel felt the real challenge was to wear jeans during the high summer heat and humidity. The first one to pass out was the loser.
She returned her bags to the van before finding one of the music stores. True to her promise in New York, she checked the directory and map before going anywhere in the mall. The stores were in easy reach of one another. She thought that odd, but she did not know enough about commercial planning to know for certain if it were strange or not. They looked of equal size, so she chose the first one she encountered.
The store was typical for its kind. The CD’s were in racks and separated by style and the tapes hung in racks along one wall. T-shirts and other accessories lined the walls opposite the cassettes. She took a moment to look through the t-shirts. She laughed when she encountered one for blue gecko. It was just like the prototypes Harold had given them at the start of the new tour. They only wore them when forced. Laurel had sent a few to Mandy. She knew they would amuse her friend.
She took her time looking through the racks of CD’s. She skipped over the country, rap and dance sections. She skipped over most of the rock as well. She wanted something different. This store did not have a large selection of new age, jazz, blues or classical, but she looked through what they carried.
Laurel had never been a fan of classical music. Nicole loved it. As a result, Laurel gradually became accustomed to it. She even grew to like certain composers. The musician in her could appreciate the origins of all modern music. She knew how difficult it was to make anything original, and how great a debt musicians everywhere owed the ancient composers. She knew that without them, modern rock would not be the same. In fact, it would not exist. It was also true of jazz and blues. They too were the forerunners of modern music. Too often many forgot that.
"Is there something I can help you find?" A voice interrupted her musings.
"No thanks. I’m just kinda browsing." Laurel turned her attention back to the CD’s in front of her.
"Well if you need anything, let us know." The saleslady reluctantly left. Laurel barely looked up, but did notice that she did not return to the counter.
She searched through several CD’s until she found a few she was tempted to purchase. Nicole’s favorite composer was Chopin, and the photographer listened to it a lot. As a result, it was the composer Laurel was most familiar with out of all them. She was surprised at how cheap the classical CD’s were. It allowed her to choose more without ruining her budget. Though she did not need to stay on a budget, it was a habit too deeply ingrained to break easily.
After selecting one of classical guitar tunes, two Chopin CD’s and one of Prokofiev, Laurel ventured over to the jazz/new age section. She was surprised that those two styles were combined, but thought that this region did not sell enough of either to warrant separate and larger sections. Though small, she was able to find several decent selections. After not finding a CD she really wanted, she turned to find the saleslady. She was not there. Laurel finally spotted her talking on the phone near the counter.
Laurel took her selections to the counter so she could check out and ask her question. She was expecting a hurried encounter perhaps, but she was not expecting what she got.
"I was looking back in the jazz section, but I couldn’t find…"
"Can you wait right there for a moment please?" The saleslady interrupted her. Laurel did as asked after setting her CD’s on the counter. Another salesperson soon joined them. So did one of the mall’s security guards.
"Can you empty your pockets, please?" The security guard demanded in a rough tone.
"Why?" She did not like his tone, nor did she like what he was insinuating.
"We found this back in the section you were looking in." The saleslady produced an empty CD case. Laurel almost laughed. It was a CD case for her CD.
"Now that is amusing." She commented.
"This is not an amusing situation. Empty your pockets or I’ll call the police." The security guard threatened.
"Call the cops. See if I care. I didn’t take it. I don’t need to."
"There’s a shirt missing from the racks too." The younger salesperson informed them. Laurel cursed her cargo pants. All three of her accusers were eyeing them.
"Where would I stick a shirt?"
"That’s what we would like to know. Call the cops." The security guard told the saleslady. Laurel was close enough now to see she was the store manager.
"Oh please. Why would I want to steal that CD? These are the ones I wanted." She showed them the ones on the counter. "Three jaz
z, one blues, two new age, and four classical CD’s were what I picked out. Why would I want to steal a rock one if I came in here for these?"
"Because all of these add up to the cost of the one you have on you somewhere." The manager replied. "We know you took it. It’ll be easier for you if you just hand it over now."
"I didn’t take anything." Laurel was seriously getting upset.
"Then prove it." The guard challenged.
"Fine." Laurel emptied her pockets. She threw her wallet, a small pocketknife, a set of keys, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter onto the counter. "There. There’s nothing more in my pockets." She opened both side pockets and showed that they were in fact empty.
"Then they’re somewhere else." The guard shoved her against the counter and held her there. "Hey, Bob, we got a shop lifter here, care to do the honors?"
"What the hell?" Not so gentle hands began searching her. She managed to catch a glimpse of a police uniform over her shoulder.
"Stand still." The officer commanded. He kicked her legs apart with his foot and forced her arms apart on the counter. That was strange. Most states required female subjects to be searched only be female officers. It was one more thing that upset Laurel.
"I’m really getting pissed. I can promise you that you are all making a huge mistake, and if you don’t let me go this instant, you’ll all lose your jobs." It was not the first time she had been frisked, but it was the most humiliating. This time she had not done anything to warrant such treatment.
"I didn’t find anything." The officer let her go. "What did you do with it?"
"Do with what? I think you know more about me at this point than I do." Laurel was furious. She picked up her wallet and pulled out her driver’s license. "My name is Laurel Anne Kendrick" She showed them the picture. Then she picked up the CD case still lying on the counter. "This is me." She pointed to the picture inside the jacket cover. "Why the fuck would I want to steal a CD I made?" She showed them the credits for the songs as well. "I wrote over half of the songs on here."
"Well." The manager seemed to be at a loss for words.
"It seems as if we made a mistake, Ms. Kendrick. Please accept our apologies." The officer seemed upset. He turned on the security guard. "Next time, make sure you have proof, idiot."
"I don’t accept your apologies." Laurel smiled sweetly. "I want your badge number, his job, and her ass." She saw the crowd standing outside. "And I want a full apology made in front of them." She pointed at the crowd. Then she saw something that really made her smile. "Harold. Come in here for a moment please." She yelled.
"What’s going on?" He took one look at the scene and immediate took her side. "What did they do to you? Are you ok?"
"I’m fine now. These assholes thought I was stealing a CD. A blue gecko CD."
"A what?" Harold laughed. "Do you know who she is? This is Lakky, the head of blue gecko."
"We know that now." The manager was still not sure. "That does not explain what the empty hanger and the empty CD case was doing near where she was."
"Obviously you failed at your job and decided to blame her for it." Harold’s voice was like ice. "I think you owe my client an apology. And I will be calling to speak to someone at your home office." He grabbed a card from the counter. "And your boss as well." The security guard did not look happy with the threat. "Matter of fact, I will do that before we leave here."
"I was just doing my job." The guard protested. The police officer was trying to disappear into the background.
"Your job requires throwing innocent people against a wooden counter and holding them there?" Laurel asked.
"You did what?" Harold sounded more upset.
"Would this be cash or charge?" The manager asked. Apparently she had decided to salvage the situation.
"It’ll be you can charge them up your ass." Laurel told her. "I will never buy anything at this store again. And you wonder why MP3’s are kicking your ass."
"Come on, Lakky, let’s get out of here. We have a concert to get ready for." Harold put his notebook back into his pocket. "I’ve got all their names and will lodge complaints everywhere."
"Thanks, H." She was glad he was on her side.
"Now are you ok? They didn’t hurt you or anything did they?"
"No, I’m fine. A little sore, and still pissed as hell, but I’m fine." She rubbed her arms. Getting thrown into the counter had hurt.
"Here, let’s get a cookie and a drink. You can relax while I rant." He pulled his cellular phone from his pocket.
By the time Laurel was finished with her Coca-cola and both her cookies, Harold was off the phone. The police officer would be reprimanded when he reported back to the station. The security guard was demoted. He would now be in charge of watching the parking lot. What pleased her most of all was that the manager of the store would soon be looking for another job. Harold refused to get off the phone until he had talked with the CEO of the company that owned the music store. The CEO was highly embarrassed, his daughter was a fan of blue gecko, and vowed that he would personally make sure the manager was fired. Laurel was not normally a vindictive person, but she took great pleasure in the manager’s downfall. She did not like to be humiliated or falsely accused.
"Thanks, Harold." She was sincere in her gratitude.
"Hey, it was actually my pleasure. There’s this nasty little part of me that loves yelling at people. Besides, they were clearly in the wrong. This was justice." He stood. "Let’s go round up the others. Did you still want to get some CD’s?"
"Yeah, but I think I’ll go to the other store." She laughed.
"I don’t blame you. This time I’ll go in with you. I could use some new music too."
"Sounds like a plan to me." She stood. "Let’s go."
***
"You know, if you keep spending all your weekends here, people are going to talk." Nicole teased her friend as they walked through the Farmer’s Market.
"Let them talk. I spend all my weekends with you and Danny anyway. It’s more pleasant here though. I like Hattiesburg, but I also like not being in Hattiesburg." Sheryl commented lightly.
"I know the feeling. At least here, the different Districts keep you from getting too bored."
"Speaking of, how bored are you?"
"Let me put it to you this way, you can now walk through half of the attic." Nicole commented in a dry tone.
"I thought as much. Are you at least getting out and meeting people?"
"I go on the occasional assignment." She tried to keep her tone even. She failed.
"Uh huh. And I take it one of these assignments was more interesting than the others?" The critic stopped to examine a watermelon. They were running an errand for Melba, though Nicole thought it was an excuse to get them out of the house.
"There was one last week that was very interesting." Interesting was their catchword. With the right connotation and the right pronunciation, it could mean anything from bad to very, very good. The way Nicole stressed the word meant the latter. She knew Sheryl would easily pick up on it.
"How so?" The critic almost dropped the melon she was fondling. "Details, I want details."
"And if I refuse to say?" It was a game they had not played in years. Suddenly, and from somewhere she did recognize any longer, the mischievous side of her came out to play.
"Then I will be forced to do something drastic." Sheryl looked at her in surprise, but she played along.
"And what, pray tell, would that be?" Nicole feigned a disinterested tone as she began examining the display of vegetables.
"I’ll have to fake a seizure by throwing myself onto the ground and twitching like a possum that just got hit by a tractor." Sheryl seemed to think it was the most absurd thing she could do.
"Good. I’m glad I brought the camera." She reached for the camera bag and began putting the lens on the body. "Well?"
"You seriously expect me to do that? Please."
"But you said you would." She pretended to pout. "Now yo
u got my hopes up."
"Ok, who are you and what have you done with my best friend? Are you a pod person or just possessed by aliens?" Sheryl backed up a pace.
"Cut it out. I’m just trying to have a little fun."
"You used that word again. Interesting." The critic grinned. "That must have been one hell of an encounter."
"I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I don’t want to." She returned her attention to the vegetables. She knew Sheryl’s innate curiosity must be driving the critic crazy, but Nicole was enjoying herself too much to end her friend’s misery that soon.
"Oh my god." Sheryl gasped. "You didn’t? Please say you didn’t."
"Say I didn’t what?" Her friend’s reaction momentarily confused the photographer.
"For one brief, mad moment I thought you were going to say you located Laurel, but Nicole, please tell me you didn’t fuck someone else." Though not a natural redhead, Sheryl was still pale. When Nicole did not answer, she went paler. "You did."
"And so what if I did?" Suddenly she felt defensive. Of all people, she did not expect this reaction from Sheryl. The critic was well known for enjoying sex with anyone she chose, male or female.
"I think I need to sit down. Let’s get the gourd and get out of here. We can talk this over when I’m not completely vertical."
"Ok." Nicole chose two decent looking squash and took them to the counter near the stand. "Do we need anything else?"
"No." Sheryl’s answer was faint.
"Ok." She paid for the vegetables and beckoned the critic to follow. They made it to a café set in the Decatur split. "Now, what’s up?" She asked as they took seats at a wrought iron table.
"Just how interesting was that encounter?" Sheryl asked in a rush.
All That Jazz Page 21