10. Nese
NESE
We return to Coop’s Range Rover, and he looks at me. “Where to next?”
I consider all he’s told me this afternoon.
Combined with bathing suit shopping, I think he’s put in a very full day.
Not to mention he gave up another week of his meditation retreat for the cause.
He deserves a break. “How about we call it quits? We’ve been shopping non-stop for a few days straight—”
He interrupts, “Five.”
“Right. Five. I say we both have earned time off. How about we return to your place? I can put this new cookbook to use and make the bread. You can meditate or practice guitar, or do whatever you like to do.” What does he like to do?
His response: a megawatt smile I’ve only seen him bestow upon Río on tour. My lady bits sit up.
Calm down. This is Coop I’m dealing with!
Still.
“I’ll take your smile as you’re in agreement?”
“Damn straight I am.” He turns on the SUV and soon we’re cruising the freeway back to his place.
As we drive, I fish out the recipe and ask him if he has sugar, salt, flour, raisins. Yes to all of these. “How about yeast?”
“Uhm. I don’t know?”
It’s cute his sentence ends higher. “No worries. I’ll check your pantry when we get home. Oh, I presume you have beer?”
“That I’m positive I do.”
Man has priorities. “Cool. The yeast has to proof, so we should have fresh bread for a late-night snack.”
“You don’t have to do this. There’s bread in the freezer.”
My hand goes over my heart. “You wound me! Once you’ve tasted homemade bread, you’ll never go back to store-bought.”
“Unless I’m on tour.”
My lips turn downward. “Well, true. Hey, if you like it, I could use the oven on the tour bus to make it for you. I’m sure the rest of the crew would enjoy it, too.”
“Seems like a lot of work. Not to mention, even though our busses have ovens, there is very little counter space.”
“Good point.” I glance out the window, then return my gaze to him. “Then you better eat up now while you can!”
He smiles. “I’ll do that.”
We arrive at his house and he accompanies me to the kitchen. I rummage around the walk-in pantry and come out carrying a small packet of yeast high in the air. “Ah-ha! It’s a shame you don’t cook. You have everything back there.”
“I’ll help you, if you want. Mom used to say I was an excellent sous chef.”
He looks as surprised as I am at his offer. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I clap. “Many hands make light work.”
“Very true.” He tilts his head, but doesn’t question me.
Good.
My mother used that saying often after we moved to Oklahoma, to try to motivate me to do more around the house. As there were several others living there, she thought it was funny.
I did not.
Ignoring the tug of my past, I set out all the ingredients and begin to follow the recipe. Coop mixes everything in the bowl, then I pour in the beer, slowly. He tries to steal the bottle from me, but I keep it out of his reach. The remainder is mine!
“Scram! Get yourself a fresh bottle from the bar.”
“I’m not old,” he protests, peering into the bowl.
I hit him with a wooden spoon. “Go!”
After he leaves, I dump in the raisins. When he returns, I ask him to make sure they’re spread throughout. He opens the beer, takes a swig, then replies, “You got it.”
While he’s working on the raisins, I flour the cutting board. “Are they good and dispersed?”
“Damn, girl. There’s another fifty-cent word.” He pokes the bowl with the spoon one final time. “They’re distributed evenly.”
“Thanks for your more expensive word! Now, bring the bowl over here and dump it onto the cutting board. I have to knead the dough.”
He walks toward me and does as instructed.
I begin to knead it. “Can you please butter the bowl over there? I’m going to let it proof in there for about an hour, until it doubles in size.
” At his quizzical expression, I explain what “proofing” means, which he absorbs with his usual mixture of curiosity and understanding.
So different from anyone else I’ve ever met.
We work in tandem until the bread’s covered with plastic wrap. “Now we wait.” I begin to clean up the mess.
Coop lifts a small bowl filled with some remnants of flour. “What did you use this for?”
I check out what he’s holding. “Oh, I used the flour on the cutting board so the dough wouldn’t stick.”
He nods. “Makes sense.” He picks up a handful and, grinning, tosses it at me. “Don’t want you to stick either.”
Coop threw flour at me? “You have got to be kidding!” I grab the larger container of flour and throw some at him. “Take that!”
His cheeks inflate as he grabs more flour. Soon, there’s an all-out flour war. We’re both laughing as flour sails through the air.
“I see some dough on your arm that needs to be floured.” He rubs my arm.
“Oh yeah? I think you sat in some dough. Don’t want your tight ass to be sticky!”
I rush his bum, but he catches me by the waist, lifting me off the floor. My legs kick out, but don’t make contact with anything. Our laughter fills the kitchen.
“If you promise not to touch the flour, I’ll put you down.”
I make some quick calculations. “I’ll stop.” Didn’t say what I would actually stop, though.
He shakes me. “Somehow, I don’t believe you’re sincere.”
“You’re smarter than you look, Grandpa.”
He carries me over to the dinette. “I’m going to set you down. If you so much as step in the direction of the kitchen, I’ll throw you into the pool to cool off. Understood?”
“You’re no fun.”
“Says the woman wearing white powder all over her body.” He pauses. “Agreed?”
“Fine,” I grumble. Coop’s probably right, though. The kitchen is now a mess, and I have to clean it up. “Where’s your dust broom?”
“In the hall closet.” He puts me down, eyeing me up and down to see if I’m going to bolt. When he’s confident I won’t run, he says, “I’ll get it.”
When he leaves the room, I wet some paper towels and begin to scrub. It was more fun during the fight rather than having to clean it up. I spy a television and turn it on, flipping the guide until I see The Lord of the Rings. This will make the time cleaning up pass much faster.
I’m wiping down the island when he returns. As we did before, we work as a team and soon the kitchen is immaculate again. The Shire is on the screen.
“I love this film,” I admit.
“It’s one of my favorites, too.” He points to the bread dough. “How long until the next step?”
“About half an hour. Then we put it into loaf pans and bake them. The dough makes two loaves.”
“Cool. The movie just started. Want to go to the media room to stream it from the beginning?”
“You have a media room? Of course,”—I tap my forehead—“what self-respecting rockstar doesn’t have one?”
“Smart ass. It came with the house. Shall we go?”
I set the timer on my phone. “Sure. But I’d like to make jewelry while it’s on. I’ve seen the movies so many times I can recite the lines while I work.”
“Makes sense. I’ll grab one of my new books, too. Meet me in the family room and I’ll lead you downstairs to the media room.”
“Said every serial killer ever.” I throw my head back and laugh. He shakes his. “You’re too easy! I’ll meet you here in a sec.”
I take off down the hallway, unsure which I’m more excited for—the movie or making jewelry.
As I walk, I reflect on all Coop’s shared today.
About Lillian. About books and his new bookmark.
About his hidden playful side. I wonder if his ex hasn’t messed with his head in more ways than he’s admitting.
In my room, I gather my jewelry making supplies and then zip down the hallway to his oversized family room. Honestly, all the rooms are oversized. You could fit my apartment in Gainesville in this house (really a mansion) at least twenty times.
I round the corner, and Coop’s waiting for me, book in hand. “This way.” He points to a door I haven’t noticed before. He opens it for me, and we descend a staircase to his basement.
Unlike the mansion Bennett bought on Long Island, this basement is more utilitarian. No arcade games, for one. We pass by another door with an inlaid window that leads to a workout room, complete with an elliptical, treadmill, and weights. Across, there’s another closed door, without any windows.
I stop. “What’s in here?”
He turns around. “Oh. That’s my music room.”
When he doesn’t seem inclined to give any more details, I ask, “Where you practice? Do you have your guitar in there?”
“Inquisitive, aren’t you?”
I don’t move, simply wait for him to respond. His life fascinates me, well beyond anything I’ve ever known. I want to soak it all up.
“Yes, I practice in there. I also write music and send it to the guys. Come on.” He opens the door. “I can tell you’re dying to see it.”
“Thanks!” I place my kit on the floor and rush into the room. A whole wall is lined with guitars. “You don’t only have one guitar—there’s an entire store in here.”
He chuckles. “Some were gifts.” He picks up an acoustic guitar. “I mainly use this one to compose.” He strums it.
“This is sick. I mean, I’ve seen you on the bus, backstage, and onstage. Never in your natural habitat. Does the band come here and jam with you?”
“Sometimes. When we’re on tour like this, no. We like to go our separate ways during the little time we have off. Río comes over often, though. That’s his extra drum kit.”
“Of course he has an extra one just lying around. You guys live the life, for sure.”
“We don’t take anything for granted. As you know, we’ve been through some tough times.”
Darren’s death deeply affected the band. He’s always with them, even I—nearly an outsider—can feel it. The movie was dedicated to him for a reason. Deciding not to dwell on this, I ask, “Do all of you have mansions like this?”
“You saw Bennett’s at his wedding, which is amazing. Río’s house is similar to this one. 007’s is a Victorian on the Jersey Shore. I think I told you that Tris has a condo in Chicago.”
“You guys are living the life.” I explore his music room, touching his Grammys. “Where’s your Oscar?”
He smiles. “It’s in my bedroom. I haven’t brought it down here yet.”
“If I ever were to win a trophy for anything, I’m not going to keep it in my bedroom. I would want to show it off to the whole world. I’d probably put it on my fireplace.” I stop. “When I get a fireplace, that is.”
“All in good time.”
I stiffen. Another saying Ma used often.
I force myself back into the moment. “Let’s check out your media room and get The Lord of the Rings on!” I exit the music room, pick up my jewelry making kit, then follow Coop to a second room.
“Here we are.”
He swings the door open. To another windowless room, complete with dark walls, dark furniture, dark ceiling, and a huge screen.
“No way. It’s a mini movie theatre in here. You even have a popcorn machine!” I rush over to it and press some buttons. Soon the smell of popcorn fills the air as the movie starts to play. “This is the life!”
Instead of settling into a leather chair, I choose one with a table in front of it and spread out my kit.
Coop stops near me. “I’m going to read in the chair over there.” Using his book, he points to an overstuffed chair across the way. “Should I keep the lights up or dim them?”
“Let’s keep them full strength,” I reply.
Soon, I’m engrossed in setting up my station.
What should I make? Of all the guys, both Coop and Tris have holes for earrings, but Coop’s the only one who wears them.
He has thin hoop earrings, so maybe I’ll make him a new pair.
The hoops he wears look like Lillian could’ve given them to him.
I pause in gathering my supplies. Did she?
Remembering I bought mini guitar picks that can serve as a base for his earrings, I’m in second heaven sorting through my options while my favorite movie plays. Every once in a while, I hear Coop say a line in time with Gandalf. Not a shocker he’s his favorite.
Mine? Give me Samwise. Always there, assisting the hero, but never taking center stage. He’s funny and loved by everyone. Yes. He’s who I gravitate toward.
Buried beneath a bunch of beads, I finally locate the guitar picks. Excellent. I know exactly what I can hang from them that will be dope. And what needs to be layered on top.
With precision, I attach the hoop to the top of the pick, then slip a tiny electric guitar through it so it overlays the pic. I check out my handiwork from multiple sides and make some adjustments. This is going better than I imagined!
While I could stop there, I have to add my surprise. He’s going to wear these onstage, for sure, but I hope he wears them in real life too. When I finish, I examine it for possible flaws. It rocks.
Because I can’t contain myself, I bound over to Coop’s chair. He smiles at me. “Is it time for the bread?”
“Not yet.” I grin. “I have something for you. Well, it’s not completely done, but I got one. I think it’s super cool.” I produce the earring from behind my back. “Ta-da!”
He slow blinks, then reaches out his hand. “May I?”
“Of course, silly. I’m making them for you.” I drop the earring into his palm, noticing the callouses built up over years playing his guitar. I tap them. “Do these hurt?”
While examining the earring, he replies, “I’ve had them for so long I don’t even notice them anymore. I use a special lotion and keep them filed.” He holds up the jewelry. “You made this for me?”
“How many other guitarists do you know who play for UC?”
He plays with the UC logo I attached to the bottom of the pick. I had them made when I found out I was going to be on their tour, and this is the first time I've actually gotten to use one.
Coop swallows. “This is amazing.”
Highest praise coming from him. “You like?”
He nods. “This is like wearing who I am in my ears. Can I try it on?”
“I don’t know—can you?”
“Smart. Aleck. May I try this on?”
Like a queen bestowing a favor, I reply, “You may.”
He removes the hoop in his right ear and replaces it with my new one. The UC logo hangs about two inches below his earlobe, which is perfect. On stage, the lights will glint off it.
Standing, he moves one of the dark curtains to uncover a mirror. Of course there’s a hidden mirror. Turning so his ear is reflected, he checks out my gift.
His whole body turns toward me. “This is amazing. Truly. I’m touched you would make me something like this.”
His sentiment strikes an odd chord. When I was in Oklahoma, I was allowed only one gift at Christmas, which was a doll.
Every year, I’d get one stupid doll. I can’t believe the man who has his mother decorate his mansion only received one set of Legos for the holidays. “Haven’t you gotten presents before?”
His eyebrows raise. “Clearly. But this is special. A guitar pick with an actual little guitar. UC’s logo.” He smiles. “All the others in the band are going to be jealous. You better have something for all of them in your bag of tricks.”
My hand pats my kit. “I’m so happy you like it.”
“I love it!”
Wow. This is the most emotion I’ve ever seen out of Coop. “I like you like this,” I admit, then rush over and give him a kiss on his surprisingly supple lips.
I pull away and realize he’s staring, wide-eyed, at me.