Chapter 10 – Kira
KIRA
“ I sn’t this the best room for sight-seeing?” Agnes notes ever so casually, but seeing as how I didn’t hear her approach in the bedroom doorway and she announces her presence at the same time I see a naked ass, it’s a cocktail for startling the living daylights out of me.
“Bitch! What’s going on?” I hear Toby’s voice fading as it drops the two stories.
“I woulda moved in here after my granddaughter moved out, just for the view, but I kind of need that en suite bathroom,” Agnes continues, leaning a hand in the door frame as if she hadn’t just scared the shit out of me.
“I just … saw someone’s ass,” is all I can squeak out between deep breaths.
“I know,” she retorts, dreamily with her eyebrows raised. “Ned Lomack always takes his lunch break around this time and sunbathes up on the autoshop roof.”
“The autoshop?” I parrot, my breath still stuck in my throat. “So some naked guy is on West’s roof?” I say in disbelief as I hear Toby’s faint voice from down below.
“Hellooooo?” he calls, impatiently.
“Shit,” I mutter and scurry past Agnes. After galloping down the stairs, I bolt through the front door and run along the side of the sunlit yard. When I find the side of the house my bedroom is on, I make a beeline for the white peony bush.
“Bitch? Where’d you go?”
“I’m here, Toby!” I assure him as I dig between the stalks of the plant. “I dropped you out the window, sorry.”
“What the fuck happened?” He asks, once the phone is back in my hand and I straighten up, pulling a few dead leaves from my hair.
“I saw a naked ass and dropped you out the window,” I confess.
“What the hell kind of town are you in?” he asks, dubiously. “Seriously, I need to come down for a visit.”
“Let me figure out just how long I’m going to be here first,” I sigh, looking around the neighborhood.
I really like the sun glinting through the leaves of the maple trees, and the quaint houses lining the quiet street and flower beds lining the walkways.
And oh shit, that really is West’s garage that the nudist was catching some rays on.
My eyes shift downward to a window, and while it’s not the one I dropped the desecrated plant out of, I can’t help but wonder if it is another side of West’s apartment. Agnes is a clever little minx.
“Well at least long enough to bang that tasty mechanic a few more times and see some more bare butts?”
“That’s not it!” I shout at him. “This place is perfect for me to take some time to pull myself together and figure out what to do with my life. Naked butts aside, I feel…safe and peaceful here!”
“I know honey,” his voice softens, clearly done giving me shit and has his caring friend hat back on. “Listen, do you need me to float you some money?”
“No, it’s okay,” I let out a breath, touched by the offer. “I was able to get twelve hundred out of an ATM before daddy’s freeze went into effect. That’s enough to get me by while I find a job and build up some kind of nut to settle in here or move onto the next place. ”
“You won’t come back here?” My heart cracks just a little at the forlorn quality in his voice. “Even after things blow over?”
“I just don’t know what I’d do with myself there,” I explain on a sigh. “I mean, besides being your butt buddy.”
“God, that was one sleepover!”
“You’ve got Jeffrey now, anyway, right?” I ask him trying to change the subject.
I listen to him tell me about his brunch date and how connected he feels to his new guy and the plans they’d made for the rest of the week.
After assuring him we’ll both be just fine, I hang up and make my way back towards the front door where Agnes is chilling in a wicker rocking chair on the porch with a joint.
“Sorry I forgot to warn you about Naked Ned,” she gives me a grin.
“Should we tell West? Or the local police?” I ask with a slight grimace.
She waves a hand. “He ain’t hurting nobody. I’m the only one who knows about his lunch hour routine - and now you, of course,” she snickers.
Lucky me.
“Anyway,” she snuffs the joint out. “Time to make some lunch, and then we’ve got to head into town.”
“Okay,” I nod in agreement. “What for?”
“I need supplies, and you need to get your bearings.”
“Fair enough. Hey, is there any kind of clothing store in town?” I tilt my head after looking down and taking in my pretentious palazzo pants paired with the borrowed - stolen - autoshop t-shirt.
“Only second-hand, honey,” she reports as she stands.
“That’s actually… perfect,” I voice out loud as I follow her to the front door. There’s bound to be more casual clothes that people around here would be more used to seeing and it will save me some money. This is not the world where I need to drop fifty dollars on a pair of underwear .
“I’ve got something you can wear in the meantime.”
Not thirty minutes later, Agnes’s Jeep drifts into a parking space in front of Wear ‘n’ Tear Consignments.
Not sure if the name of the store is promising, but I’m excited to look around and see what they’ve got.
The sooner I do, the sooner I can change out of the muumuu Agnes lent me.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s kind of cute, with its red floral print, and when I cinched it up in a knot on the side it could almost pass as a peasant top with the leggings she threw in. But I’m excited to find my own style.
The bell jingles as we push the door open, and I’m greeted by around nine hundred square feet of blue carpet with circular racks dispersed atop it.
After making our way to the back of the store where the checkout counter sits, the clerk lights up immediately when she sees my face.
“Oh thank god, a newcomer!”
I feel my eyes widening in a confused smile before she explains.
“Everyone around here comes in with items they’ve outgrown but it’s never the last time they see them. Lately it’s made people shy away from coming here because they don’t want to wear something that someone else will point out used to be theirs.”
“Got it,” I nod warmly. “Well, I have some things here,” I lift the quilted sack Agnes let me use to schlep a few of my unwanted garments in.
“I don’t know if they’d be suitable for your inventory, but you can have a look,” I hand it over.
I doubt anyone will come in here wanting a Dolce honeymoon sarong.
Emily, as her name is, takes the sack from me and urges me to go peruse the racks, and a magnetic beam seems to pull me right over to the corner where there are several with denim. I’ve always loved the look of blue jeans but couldn’t be caught dead in them.
That’s what hobos wear , my always half-bombed mother would garble. We have class.
Yeah. Anyway, I’m not even sure what jean size I am, but I’m sure all the mandatory yoga and spinning classes have kept me somewhere in the 4-range. Oooh… I could check out the local cuisine here and start eating! Size 6, here I come!
Not bothering with the sizes, I hold a few heavily worn pairs up in front of me and decide they’re good enough to try on before making a pit stop at a rack of vintage t-shirts on my way to the dressing room. If I can find more heavenly cotton shirts like West’s I’ll be in business.
Fuck, denim feels good! And my peers were full of crack when they touted that Chanel slacks and Gucci dresses was what you wore when you wanted your ass to look good.
These - whatever the hell brand they are - make it look tight and rockin.
And damn, they even look good with Agnes’s muu-muu, if I tuck it in like a shirt.
“Agnes!” I exclaim, pushing the dressing room curtain aside to show her the look, just at the same time she pushes the curtain across the way open.
“Hey!” She gleefully reveals herself in a pair of sequined booty shorts, a flowery crop top, and a captains hat.
“Um,” I stammer, a little stunned, but impressed. “Wow.”
“Well, you look hotter than leather seats in July.” She peruses me up and down with a whistle. “Slumming suits you,” she compliments me as she turns toward the counter. “Emily honey, why don’t you ring me up while she looks for more sexy rags.”
For the next forty minutes, I zip around this little gem of a shop finding nice, soft shirts with random logos, blue jeans with rips, my first ever pair of cut-off shorts, and a hockey jersey for the Blasters. I’ve never been into sports, but I could be .
I’m on some kind of a high when I bring these items along with a couple cute sundresses to the front and ask Emily what I owe her.
“Are you kidding me?” She exclaims, all my ridiculous summer frocks laid out on the counter. “These are legit designers. We can call it a trade, because I’ve never had anything of this quality in my store.”
Well that hardly seems fair. She has a business to run; she can’t just give stuff away. Then again, I only have so much money to my name before I can find a job.
“I can’t let you do that,” I tell her just as I have an idea. “But, if you can give me a discount…” I pull out my phone and tap out a text to Toby so I don’t forget. “I can get you more fashions for all four seasons.”
Me: The security code for the penthouse is 2172 and mom always takes an Ativan nap after lunch. Can you grab some things from my closet? I’ll tell you where to send them later! XO
I look back up to find Emily’s jaw open, and I reach across the counter to gently close it for her. Another move that I would’ve gotten screamed at for in my old life, but this special little shopping trip has got me embracing all the possibilities.
After being rung up for a more than fair price, I signal to Agnes with my bags.
“Come on Agnes, lets go eat carbs and see if I like sports!”
“Sure thing honey,” she slides her giant sunglasses on as she scuttles behind me. “As long as we make it home for MacGyver reruns and my afternoon power nap.”