8. Nese
NESE
Ithink my homemade breakfast went a long way toward making up for what I did to his Zen Garden. If I had known what it was, I never would’ve dragged my luggage through it. At least I raked a good portion of it before he caught me. Even though my goal wasn’t to be caught.
Turning to the more immediate concern, my catch of his shoes cements my prior appraisal of his fashion sense.
Those sneakers have seen better decades.
I suppose if he were on his way to the gym—and wearing workout clothes—they might be acceptable.
Certainly not with his outfit today. Maybe he needs a style refresher in addition to overhaul.
After all, I’m not going to be around picking out his outfits forever.
“Let me research some good places to buy shoes in LA, and we’ll hit there first.” I pause. Guess it can’t hurt to ask. “Unless, of course, you have a favorite shoe store nearby?”
The expression on his face tells me everything I need to know. Coop cements my intuition. “I usually run into whatever store is close.”
Now’s a good a time as any to start Fashion 101 with him. “Why don’t you help me find a shoe store? What do you like about shopping for shoes?”
“When I leave.”
I roll my eyes. “Could you be any less enthusiastic? Your retail therapy would be most people’s dream.
However, I want to set you up for success when I’m not around.
When you’re looking for shoes—or really, any piece of clothing—you need to look for quality, first and foremost. It’s always better to purchase one very expensive pair that will last you years, rather than a cheapy pair that can’t survive a season. ”
“See?” He returns to his KP duties at the sink. “I already have this one covered. I don’t want to shop more than I have to, so all my clothes and shoes last years.”
Seriously? “But they shouldn’t. There’s a difference.” I pull out my cell. “Let’s check out shoe stores nearby. This will give us a good starting place.” A list appears and we evaluate each. Rather, I do the deep dives while he washes the griddle and puts the rest of the items into the dishwasher.
By the time he’s done, I’ve compiled an agenda of five stores. “Now, you’ll need sneakers—for both working out and casual times, such as for your meditation—sure, but also slip-ons, boots, oxfords, and loafers. Let’s begin there.” A thought occurs. “Wait. Do you meditate in bare feet?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, good. You won’t need shoes for that, so you can wear sandals. When are you going to the retreat again?”
“Next Monday.”
“In five days.” I snap my fingers. “Right. You were supposed to start the Monday that just passed, but because of the Vanishing Luggage Mystery, you’re delayed by a week. Hey, what do you wear to this retreat? We’ll need to get you something for it.” I add this category to my Notes app on my phone.
He retakes his seat at the dinette. “People mainly are in whatever’s comfortable. Sweats, shorts, that sort of thing. There are Zen robes, but I’ve never bothered with them.”
“Maybe we should look into them?” I make another note. “Although, you in grey sweats…” My mind wanders at the possibility, especially after seeing him in his new jeans.
“Yeah. Grey sweats would be fine.”
I keep my mouth shut. “Got it. So you need clothes for meditation and your retreats, plus casual things, items for out to dinner, out to clubs, running errands.” I mark these in the app.
Coop protests. “I usually wear jeans and a t-shirt all day, no matter what I’m doing.”
I take my eyes off my phone. “I know. Let’s try to up that a bit, since we have this opportunity.”
“I’m beginning to suspect the Label deliberately lost my luggage.”
I place my hand on top of his. “I sincerely doubt it.” He looks skeptical. “Think about it this way. If they wanted you to change your clothes so badly, they could’ve done it ages ago.”
“Thanks.” He blinks, which I can see since his sunglasses are on the table. “I’m not that bad.”
“When you hit the stage, no. How about we bring the rest of your wardrobe up to the same caliber.”
He leans back. “I’m very impressed with your vocabulary.”
That’s what happens when you break free from a cult and spend almost every waking moment reading anything you can get your hands on. “Thanks. I think.” Is he poking fun?
“You said you are twenty-four, right?”
I nod.
“Where did you go to college?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t.”
“You must have had one hell of a solid English program in high school then.”
“Something like that.” I pick up my phone. “Ready to start looking for replacement shoes?” I don’t wait for him to answer, simply slide out of the dinette. Pausing at the threshold, I say, “Let me get my stuff. I’ll meet you back here in twenty.”
“Sounds good.”
I scurry off before my mouth decides to spill my secrets. He may be surprisingly easy to talk with, but he’s not my confidante or boyfriend or anything. He’s just a job. Nothing more.
In my room, I change my purse to a smaller one.
Best not to knock over a display with a large bag!
I also refresh my makeup and review my notes from our conversations.
He doesn’t know it, but I’ve been documenting my observations since we met up.
In addition to thoughts, I wrote down about his so-called style when I got this assignment.
I’m pretty sure I have a handle on his style preferences—fast and easy. Ha! In the wardrobe department only!
Focus, Nese.
I’m almost out the door when I remember my sunglasses. Coop’s always wearing his—his signature piece, so to speak—so I might as well mirror him. They make him look sexy during the day. However, I should try to wean him off them at night. Unless he’s on stage.
I take my time to meet back up, appreciating his artwork and the general architecture of his house. Nothing here screams bachelor. I round the corner into the kitchen, where he’s sitting. “I was admiring your interior decorations. Did you do them?”
“I’ve gathered a lot from my travels with UC. My mom helped organize them, though.”
“Makes sense.”
“What do you mean?”
His tone carries an undercurrent of defensiveness. “Nothing bad. Most single guys I know don’t have your level of taste.” Very diplomatic, Nese.
He doesn’t respond for a while. “Meaning, most single men live like they’re in a fraternity?”
I laugh. “Yeah. Something along those lines.”
“Glad I don’t fit your stereotype. Although, most guys you’ve probably met are your age, so my description might not be too far off.”
Many older men were in the cult, and they all lived like slobs expecting their maids to clean up after them. Which they did. Meaning, me. “Let’s stop procrastinating and get you more clothes, starting with shoes.”
“I can’t wait.”
He opens a door that goes directly into the garage. I wonder why he didn’t use this last night? Would’ve prevented me from walking across his Zen Garden.
He interrupts my thoughts. “I moved the Rover into the garage this morning.” We hop into the SUV and he plugs the first store into his GPS.
One store turns into three. We’ve purchased a pair of sneakers as well as dress shoes, which I consider a major score. As we walk toward the third shoe store, he grumbles, “I don’t really need or want eight pairs of shoes. These two should last me another decade.”
“They might, so long as you treat them with respect and take good care of them.”
“They’re shoes, not a woman.”
On the sidewalk, I stop. “There. Right there is your issue. You should treat clothes and shoes like a relationship. They have to be nurtured and handled with kindness.”
His sunglasses flip up to his head. “You may have nailed my problem.” He strides toward the door.
What on earth is he talking about? While I know he’s not seeing anyone—Bennett was the first band member to do so, followed by Río—none of the other band members have steady girlfriends.
Still, he must have had a girlfriend at some point.
He is in his thirties, for heaven’s sake. I follow him into the store.
I watch as he walks the perimeter. Every so often he picks up a pair of dressy shoes, then puts them down. Curiosity piqued—at his comment about women as much as his taste in shoes—I approach him.
“Hey. I saw you looking at a couple of pairs. What caught your eye?”
He points to one pair. “These are nice, but they seem too wide.”
Before he continues, I ask, “Coop, did you try them on? Looks can be deceiving. You really need to test them on your feet before disregarding them.”
He shrugs. “Do you think they look sharp?”
Perhaps he doesn’t trust his own fashion sense? “Tell me, what do you appreciate about them?”
He turns them around several times before answering. “I like the color. They have some detail here”—he points to the top of the shoe—“that’s sort of cool.”
“Great observations. You like their appearance, which is a good first step. Ha! Get it? Step? We’re looking for shoes.”
“Yes,” he says in a dry tone. “I get it.”
The man next to us, however, bursts out laughing. “That was funny!”
I turn to him. With a big smile, I say, “I’m glad someone here gets my humor.”
“Well, I appreciate you.” This guy seems to be in his mid-twenties, and damned attractive. He gives Coop a brief glance, then says, “I work around the corner from here at the jewelry store. I’d love to show you some pieces, if you have the time.”
“How enticing. Sapphires are my absolute favorite! Do you have any of them?”
“Sure do. Earrings, rings, pendants, you name it. I can offer you a good deal, as long as you promise to give me a jewelry joke.” He winks at me.
I scour my brain. “Oh, I got one. What do you call a necklace that’s always arguing with you?”
I wait. He gives me a shy smile.
I announce, “A pendant-ic.”
Over to the side, Coop stifles a chuckle. This guy, however, casts a questioning glance at me. I take pity on him. “Pedantic? Get it?” I laugh. He does too, but I can tell the joke flew over his head. Oh well.