Slow down! “Tomorrow is good,” she said firmly.
As soon as Eamonn had dropped Nell off at her place, once she was inside the front door of her building and out of his sight, she texted Amy: I need to look like a rock star’s girlfriend. By tomorrow. What do I do?
Amy sent back a shocked-face emoji, almost immediately followed by the chimes of an incoming video chat request.
Nell let it chime away as she hustled the rest of the way up the stairs and down the hall to her apartment, then answered it with one hand as she unlocked the door and let herself in with the other.
“Nell! What’s going on?” Amy asked as soon as they were connected. “Are you going to a costume party? Why not go as a rock star instead of just the girlfriend?”
“It’s not a costume party. I’ve, uh, kind of been seeing someone.”
Amy gasped. “Bestie, you’re telling me that you’ve hooked up with a musician? So out of character — I’m impressed! So, are you going to a show or just a party? Who are you trying to impress? Bandmates? Manager? Or letting other women know he’s taken?”
“The media, actually.” Nell grinned at Amy’s stunned expression. “I’m told it’s very likely there will be pictures taken at the airport.”
“Are you telling me I’d, like, recognize his name?”
“Well, his name is Eamonn, but… Easy Yarrow.”
“No shit! Easy, as in the bass player who was kicked out of Smidge?!” Amy stared at Nell through the phone screen, her face a mix of envy and concern. “Nell, you know he’s not exactly the good guy in any of the stories I’ve heard…”
Nell sighed. “He’s told me what really happened. People make mistakes, right? It’s what you do afterward that matters.”
“Hmm.” Amy didn’t look or sound convinced. “Funny thing, a guy I know is touring with Smidge now. I could call him up, try to get the other side of the story for you.”
“No! Promise me, Amy. Don’t say anything to anyone. Eamonn’s going there to apologize to them, to Smidge. Do not mess this up for him. But that’s why I need help. I’m going with him, and I’m—”
Amy waved a shushing hand at the screen as she interrupted. “You’re you, Nell. That’s not a bad thing. Don’t let anyone tell you to change.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Nell said, letting a bit of sarcasm bleed through in her voice. “The point is, I don’t want to be mistaken for a bodyguard or PA or something.”
“You do walk like a bodyguard.” Amy giggled. “Oh, come on, bestie, don’t be mad — you know you move like you’re going to take people apart if they look at you wrong. But I see what you mean. And your work clothes make you look like a PA. Shit, I wish I were at home!” She tapped her fingernails against her phone screen, and the clicking sound echoed through the speaker. “Hold on, I think Johnny’s performing in Seattle right now. I’ll call you back.”
“Who’s Johnny?” Nell asked, but Amy had already ended the connection.
Practical action is best, she told herself. She took a load of pajamas and underwear down to the laundry room in the basement, then decided to look up Time Rock and find out what it was.
Ten minutes later, she was even more overwhelmed. It seemed that back in the 90s, some rock promoter had bought a vineyard overlooking Lake Hennessey in the Napa Valley and turned it into a concert venue. From what she could tell, a number of events were held there throughout the year, but the biggest of all was the Time Rock Music Festival, in which newer bands were paired up with bands whose first big hits had been recorded in past decades, each pairing sharing a stage as they alternated sets and then performed a few songs together. The official website showed glamorous pictures of beautiful people gathered around open-air bars and spectacular stages, lots of bare skin shining with sunscreen and sparkles, leather and metal accessories everywhere, rock t-shirts cut low and tied high on women or tight and de-sleeved on men. Grapevines and the blue twinkle of a lake view graced the soft-focus distance in every shot. Crap. She couldn’t imagine fitting in with all that. Give me a taekwondo tournament over this any day. A trace of reluctance settled in her stomach. But I promised.
Her phone buzzed, alerting her to a new message from an unknown number: Hi Nell, this is Johnny. Amy gave me your number. I can meet up with you this afternoon if you like, take you shopping?
“Shopping?” Nell said out loud, momentarily taken aback. Really kind of you, she texted back, but I think Amy maybe gave you the wrong idea. Wasn’t planning on a shopping spree.
I know you’re on a budget, but she says you don’t own any jeans, came his reply. Trust me, I’ve been to Time Rock. You need a pair of jeans. Let’s meet at the Westlake Center Starbucks and go from there.
Faced with that, she agreed to meet him at three o’clock. Was there something wrong with preferring loose-fitting workout pants and stretchy, comfortable yoga pants? She asked how she would recognize him.
Pretty sure I’ll be the only guy with pink hair, Johnny texted in reply.
Nell made a point of arriving twenty minutes early, partly because she disliked even the risk of being late, and partly to counteract her reluctance — shopping in general used up time better spent doing other things, plus this particular trip involved buying an item of clothing she didn’t want, with money she didn’t have to spare, for an event that didn’t appeal to her. She didn’t love having strangers involved in her business, either, which Amy knew very well.
The tattoo wrap on her shoulder itched, and she wanted it off.
She sat by a window in the Starbucks, grimly sipping her tea, wondering whether Amy’s friend Johnny was an on-time person or a late one. Probably late.
But he was five minutes early.
He did have pink hair — vivid neon pink hair, buzzed short around the back and sides, a couple of inches longer and expertly styled on top. Lean and toned in a way that made her think he might be an athlete, he walked into the coffeehouse like he owned it. That’s some confidence, Nell thought with grudging respect. She stood up and raised a hand in a small wave so that he’d know she was the person he was looking for. He returned her wave with a smile and pointed to the lineup, indicating that he’d order something and then join her.
In a relatively short time, he’d acquired some kind of iced coffee drink and was striding up to her table, his hand out for her to shake. “You must be Nell. I’m Johnny. Good to meet you.” He sat down, took a sip of his drink, hauled his backpack onto his lap, and said, “While we’re sitting here, let’s talk about makeup. Get that out of the way.”
What the ever-loving hell? “I really don’t know what Amy told you, but—”
“You’ve met a musician dude and are going to Time Rock with him, and you don’t want to be mistaken for a roadie or PA or something, so you need to look like a Girlfriend with a capital G.”
“Sure, but I know how to put on eyeliner. And I’m not going to coat my face with all kinds of gunk.”
Johnny laughed. “Amy told me you’d say that. You wear sunscreen, don’t you? So all I want you to do is use this instead.” He took a small makeup bag out of his backpack and extracted a pastel-green pump bottle. “Sunscreen moisturizer with skin brighteners — think of it like, oh, a super-subtle hint of shimmer, barely even noticeable. But it’ll give you that music festival glow you want.”
Shimmer. Ick. But Nell nodded her acceptance. Barely even noticeable didn’t sound so bad. And she had asked for help, so it would be foolish to refuse it now. “Okay. What else do I need to do?”
He reached into the makeup bag again and brought out a fat jet-black eye pencil, a round eyeshadow container with glittery contents the color of an almond cookie, and a brush, all of which looked brand new, still sealed with plastic bands. “This is a super easy look you can’t screw up. Smudgy black liner will give you a good rock festival vibe — just draw it on thick, top lid and bottom, and smudge it a little with your finger — it’s supposed to be messy. T
hen you take your brush and do your whole upper lid with this shadow, and you’re done. It’s so sheer, you really can’t go wrong. Add mascara if you like, but don’t worry if that’s not your jam. Either way, you won’t look like an office girl.”
“Thank you,” she said, a bit nonplussed, and put the items into her purse. “How much do I owe you?”
He waved that away. “You don’t owe me anything at all. Amy and I go back a long way. I owed her a favor and a bit of money. She told me taking care of you today would put us square.”
Nell bit her lip. “I hate to be awkward, but I don’t feel right taking the makeup as a gift. You don’t even know me.”
“I got it in a swag bag at an event and it doesn’t fit my look, so it’s yours. My time is well spent if anything I say or do helps you walk around Time Rock like you own it and have a blast with your man. Shall we go find you some jeans now?”
She blinked at him. “Your look?”
He batted his eyelashes at her and pouted, and for a moment became entirely feminine in body language and expression, then relaxed back into being Johnny. “When I’m in drag, you’d call me Ripped Creme.”
No wonder she’d thought him both graceful and athletic. The name even sounded a bit familiar, though she couldn’t be sure how or where she’d heard it. “No wonder you know so much about makeup, then.”
“That, and I can sew almost anything, but even I have to shop for my jeans. So maybe you’ll trust me to help you find something you’ll like?” he asked, with an encouraging smile. “Let’s take our drinks and walk. I’ve got a few different shops in mind, and don’t worry, I won’t forget you’re on a tight budget.”
Two hours, three stores, and what felt like four dozen pairs of jeans later, Nell was ready to give up. “Jeans just plain don’t suit me,” she said to Johnny, doing her best to keep the frustration out of her voice. “I feel bad for wasting your time.”
He shook his head. “Helping someone find her inner queen is never a waste. I’m taking you to Bee Cute. It’s a teeny bit pricier, but they can fit anyone. I get my girl jeans there, okay?”
She sighed but nodded. As they walked, she said, “I don’t think it’s the fit.”
“No? Well, here we are.”
Bee Cute had denim like Nell had never seen it. Laced up, cut away, bedazzled, acid washed, rainbow tie-dyed…
A motherly-looking older woman with waist-length hippie hair came out from behind the counter to greet Johnny. “Hey, hey, Rip! I can’t wait ’til your season of Drag Dolls airs, so exciting. What can we find for you today?”
“Ruby! I’m not supposed to talk about it. Wait for July, darling.” He let her hug him, then drew Nell forward. “I have a hard-to-fit friend here. She’s going to Time Rock and needs some truly fuck-off jeans.”
Nell cringed. She couldn’t help it. “I really just need something normal that doesn’t make me look too…” Hard. Unfeminine. Too much muscle. Thighs like tree trunks. Chunky Booty. Every disparaging comment she’d ever overheard came roaring back into her mind. In athletic pants or running shorts, she was an athlete, a competitor, but in jeans…
Johnny took a look at her face and said, “Shit, Nell, what is it?”
She shrugged. “I’ve worked hard for my body. I’m proud of it. But… it’s an athlete’s body, not a girly one. My butt and thighs are, uh, not small. And anything that fits me at the waist is wrong in the butt and too tight in the thighs. I look like a tank.”
“I hate to break it to you,” said the shopkeeper, “but his thighs are bigger than yours, and Ripped Creme can work stretch denim like nobody’s business.”
Johnny wasn’t laughing. “I wish I’d come to meet you in drag today. I could do this so much better as Rip. Fuck.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, look, you’re trying to hide yourself in jeans, picking baggy boyfriend styles, but more fabric isn’t better here. I want you to let Ruby find you something tight and sassy to show off what you’ve got. When AC/DC sang about American thighs, they weren’t talking about toothpicks. Strong thighs are sexy, so make that work for you.”
Nell raised her eyebrows, trying not to let too much of her disbelief show. “At this point, I’ll try anything on.”
Ruby bustled away, and Johnny said, “Your musician boyfriend — has he got a band shirt for you to wear, or…”
“Oh, I don’t think — it would be awkward. He’s, uh, estranged from his… I think you’d call them ex-bandmates at the moment. I don’t want to say too much.”
Johnny gave her a sharp look. “I only know of one band at Time Rock this year that recently dumped their bassist for being a nefarious prick. Please tell me that’s not your man?”
Crap. “He does play bass, but—”
“Nell. We are talking about Easy and Smidge, aren’t we?”
“If you have to know, we’re going to Time Rock so he can apologize for what he did. People make mistakes.”
Now it was Johnny’s turn for raised eyebrows and polite disbelief. “You know he had a pretty bad reputation even before that incident, don’t you?”
All she could think of was Eamonn saying I’d only ever felt part of Smidge when we were all high and it felt less like being abandoned after a show if I was busy screwing my brains out. “And wasn’t all of Smidge rolling about in a confetti storm of drugs and groupies not so long ago? Don’t half the rock stars out there end up partaking one way or another, at least for a while? As far as I can tell, he’s mostly guilty of being a recreational drug user who didn’t turn into an addicted moral message, as though it’s somehow worse that he could walk away from it at will, while everyone forgives the sad rehab cases.”
“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 ri
ght 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.
Rock God in Exile (Smidge Book 2) Page 22