by Elle Casey
My heart is not buying that nonsense at all. It’s hammering wildly in my chest, telling me that this is no casual thing and that of course it’s a big deal. People don’t hold hands with their acquaintances or friends; they hold hands with people they feel close to, people they want to touch.
I’d really love to not get overly girly about this, but it’s impossible. In my experience, handholding leads to kissing and then sometimes to a whole lot more. Oh God, don’t let him try to kiss me! I think about that for a few seconds and then alter my request: Okay, God, maybe let him kiss me once, just to see what it’s like.
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 rac
k. “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.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
As we’re leaving the store, I hear my phone ringing in my bag. I stop immediately and dig around until I find it. I look at Ty apologetically. “I have to grab this.”
He nods and takes my hand again, guiding me while I answer the call.
“Hi, it’s me,” I say. I have an attack of the sillies now that I’m finally talking to my sisters. I have so much to tell them. I’m holding hands with a rock star!
“Hi, Me,” Em says laughing. “You sound happy.”
“I might be.” I can’t give her details because the man behind my happiness is standing right next to me, guiding me toward a coffee shop.
“Yay! Tell me about it.”
“What’s going on with you guys?” I say, trying to direct her away from the subject of me and the crazy emotions that I can barely control.
“Well, we went and got you another plane ticket, but now I’m thinking that was a mistake.”
“Why?”
“Because I talked to Carol. It sounds like maybe you have other plans now?”
“I’m not sure. I really need to talk to you about it, but now is not exactly the time.”
Ty signals a time-out with his hands using a T formation.
“Hold on a second.” I put the phone off to the side. “What’s up?” I ask him.
“I’m going to run in here and grab us a couple drinks. Why don’t you sit down at the table there and talk to whoever that is?”
I nod and take a seat, not wanting to waste any more time. I watch as he walks into the café, mesmerized for a few moments by his sexy swagger, and then put the phone back to my ear.
“Okay. I’m back. I have a few minutes to talk in private.”
“Who are you with? Is it that Ty guy again?”
“Yes. He’s going into a café to get us some coffee.”
“Does he know you don’t drink the stuff?”
“No, probably not.” This is crazy. The lead guitarist for one of the hottest bands in the country is buying me a coffee I won’t drink in Manhattan. If someone had told me a month ago that this is what my life would look like, I would have told them to take another hit off their bong.
“Okay. So what’s the deal?” she asks.
“Is Rose there?”
“No. She still has that porcupine at the clinic. I guess he got hit by a car pretty bad. She’s waiting on the vet to show up.”
Standard-issue Rose emergency. “Okay, well, I may have already made up my mind, but I would really like to know your opinion anyway.”
“Okay, shoot. Tell me all the details, and I will be perfectly honest with you.”
“Okay . . . Where do I start? . . . This morning at breakfast, Red made me an offer. He wants to know if I can stick around here for a couple weeks and help them update their image a little bit.”
“That’s what Carol said. And how do you feel about it?”
How do I feel about it? When I try to concentrate on that question, my head starts to spin with what-ifs and wherefores. “I have mixed feelings.”
“I’ll bet. But which is the overriding feeling?”
“I don’t know . . .” I bite my lip hard. My pulse is racing. This is so nuts. I was supposed to come here, tell those men to screw off, and go home. Easy peasy, not so lemon squeezy.
“Yes, you do. Don’t be coy with me. I can hear it in your voice. I know you’re thinking something crazy. And you’re being silly. It has something to do with this Ty guy. Don’t pretend it doesn’t.”
“Fine.” I let out a long breath, blowing the air up into my hair. I’m sweating with nerves again. “I hate that you can read my mind like that.”
“I’ve been reading your mind since we were six months old.”
“I know, don’t remind me. Anyway, it’s true . . . He’s intriguing.”
“Is that all?”
“Well, he’s talented. He’s also pretty insightful. And he’s . . . a little tortured.”
“Okay, now we’re getting some
where. So this guy is a tortured genius and you’re going to help solve all his problems.”
I lose my smile. “Don’t say it like that. That sounds mean.”
“I’m not being mean. But you are the solutions girl. Whenever there’s an issue, you’re the one who’s going to resolve it.”
“Is there a problem with that?” I don’t want to remind her that this is why I’m here in New York in the first place, dealing with all of our issues, and it’s also why I live on the farm instead of somewhere else.
“There’s nothing wrong with it at all, unless you run up against somebody who will take advantage of it.”
“What do you mean?” Her comment sounds ominous.
“What I mean is, I don’t know this guy Ty. Is he a good person? Maybe he sees that you’re somebody who can be taken advantage of.”
My heart sinks as her words penetrate and start to make sense. It is kind of strange that Ty was rude to me . . . until he found out exactly who I am and what I mean to the band. Could it be that he’s using me? Being nice to gain something for himself? I want to jump to his defense, because I really don’t think these things are true, but that wouldn’t be fair to my sister. She’s just telling me how it is, being dead honest, and I appreciate that.
“I know what you mean. But I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know?”
“I don’t know if this is a situation I need to avoid or one that was tailor-made for me.”
“Well, huh . . . Are you getting any vibes either way?”
The seed of doubt she planted has taken root. Why exactly is Ty holding my hand now? “I’m getting vibes, but I don’t know if I can trust them.”
“Because it’s coming from that guy, right?”
“Some of them, yes. We held hands, and I felt like I was in high school.”
“Except that we were homeschooled,” she says wryly. “So what does that even feel like?”
“You know how often we talked about high school and how cool it would be if we were walking down those halls and had a locker and a book bag. Believe me, my imagination was very vivid back in those days. I just knew what it would feel like to hold a boy’s hand and walk down the hallway with everyone watching.”