11. Coop
COOP
The young stylist’s soft lips attach themselves to mine.
She gave me this earring that’s layered with meaning—the pick itself, the guitar, the UC logo. Makes me feel lighter and taller. Somehow younger.
However, I’m old enough to be her… well, older brother.
Lillian chooses this exact moment to make her appearance—nose held high—reminding me of all my failures. My eyes, trained on Nese, widen.
“I’m so happy you like them!” She flits back to her jewelry station.
Placing my hand over my roiling stomach, I sink into my chair. No sooner does my butt hit the upholstery, though, then the timer on her cell phone beeps. Which startles Lillian away.
Nese leaps to her feet. “The bread’s ready to be baked. I’ll take care of it.” Off she scampers.
I sit in the empty media room, paying no attention to my favorite movie. This little pixie is casting all sorts of weird spells over me. Did I really start a flour fight in the kitchen? I place my new book on my lap, seeking comfort via osmosis over my riotous emotions.
Nese is spontaneous personified. She does whatever she wants, whenever she wants to, consequences be dammed.
Usually, though, her actions bring about positive results.
Like talking with the woman in the bathing suit store, resulting in my meeting a true fan.
My fingers travel to my right ear. Or this earring.
She has a deeper side, one that doesn’t come out and play too often. She certainly hates anything that could be construed as control. Her vocabulary is outsized for someone in their mid-twenties. I bet there’s more beneath her spunky surface.
Much more.
No woman has kissed me like she did. She didn’t want to bag a rockstar. She was simply expressing joy. My palm goes to the back of my neck.
I’m still ruminating over the kiss when Nese pops into the media room. “Loaves are in the oven and should be done in a little over a half hour. They smell good!”
I smile. “Great.”
She returns her attention to the jewelry kit spread out before her. I open the book but read the same paragraph ten times before giving up and focusing on the movie. At least Gandalf won’t fail me.
Her cell phone alarm goes off again. “Bread’s done.” She moves next to me and drops off the matching earring. Like a caged kitten, she scampers toward the doorway. “C’mon. You don’t want to miss the first piece hot out of the oven. It’s the best part.”
“How can I resist?” I stand, turn off the projector, and follow her up the stairs. In the hallway, I put in the second earring.
When I enter the kitchen, she’s placed one loaf on the quartz counter. Oven mitt covering her hand, she walks toward the oven. “Get a bread knife. You know, with a serrated edge. What do you want on it? Butter, honey, cinnamon, jelly?”
It’s endearing the way she speaks—does she ever take a breath? After getting the knife—I am aware of what a bread knife is, thank you very much—I approach the fridge. “I’ll bring all four. Then we have options.”
She removes the second loaf. “Oh, I like how you think!”
The loaves perfume the kitchen with their enticing aroma. I grab two plates while she cuts her masterpiece into slices.
“You go first,” she offers.
“No. You did most of the work. Chef gets first taste.”
She shrugs. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
She butters her bread while I choose cinnamon. I bite into my piece a little after her. “Oh my. Nese, this is really good.”
Cheeks filled and distended like a chipmunk, she nods. After swallowing, she moans, “This is the best. I’ve made other breads before, but this is the all-time winner. My new cookbook is the bomb.” She does a jig.
I refrain from joining her, but the bread does warrant a second slice. This time with honey. By the point we can’t eat another bite, we’ve decimated over half of the first loaf.
Should I bring up the kiss? Will she make fun of me? Does she even remember it? While I debate my options, Nese puts some foil over the remainder of the bread. The other loaf is already covered.
“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” she says. “Do you know a good dim sum place around here? It’s on the Restaurant Bingo card, and it might be an excellent time to collect this space. I can go with others from the app, if you point me to a good spot.”
I should give her the name of my favorite Chinese restaurant. Not insert myself into her life more than I already have. “There is a great place not too far from here.”
“Perfect.” She waits for me to tell her the restaurant’s name. Finally, she asks, “What’s the name?”
Let her go on her own, Coop. I shouldn’t do this. My eyes close. “Since I’m not going to the Meditation Retreat, seems like my day is free. I can take you.” I glance at her. “Unless my stylist-slash-drill sergeant wants to do another shopping trip, that is.”
“Hey.” She puts her hands on her hips. “I am not a drill sergeant. You were the one who said he wanted to buy an entire wardrobe in a week.”
I parry. “Until you opened my eyes to the rigors of what ‘purchasing everything’ means.”
“I’m so glad you realize Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
I chuckle. “Unless Río was in charge.”
“Getting kicked out of Italy has to be for the record books. The man is wild, for sure.”
“Hayden’s settled him.” She has. Not a moment too soon.
The stylist nods. “True. So, what time should I be down here for our dim sum date?”
Date.
Not a date.
I correct her, “Two coworkers enjoying a meal.”
“Whatever.” She flips her hand. “I’ll be down here at ten. Does that work for you?”
I stuff my hands in my pockets. “Sure.”
“See you then. I’m off to clean up my kit, then going to bed. It’s been a long day.”
Without a doubt.
All the energy and excitement in the kitchen collapses when she leaves. I slip into the banquette seating, replaying her brief kiss. How her lips felt. The joy of the moment. The lack of judgment about my complete failure as a partner. Whatever. That ship has sailed.
My cell rings. Seeing Luke’s name across my screen, I pick up.
“How’s it going in LA, Coop? Has Nese hooked you up with a new wardrobe yet?”
My hands rub over my thighs. “She’s working on it. She says I have about half the stuff I need, and hopes to finish up next week.”
“Good news.” He pauses. “I wanted to let you know we’ve done a thorough search and haven’t been able to locate your luggage anywhere. However, our head of security isn’t giving up and is doing a deep dive.”
I take in his statement. “Thanks. I hope Elias can get to the bottom of it.” I suck in air. “Perhaps it’s for the best? My clothing was a little outdated, as I’m learning now.”
“Well, your off-stage look did need an update.” He clears this throat. “Don’t tell me you’re turning into a fashion plate? Has Nese unleashed Frankenstein’s monster on us?”
“I think you’re safe on that front. I’ll leave such a title to Tris.”
Our manager laughs. “Yeah. He always looks on point. I can’t wait to see your new style, though.”
“Thanks. Hey, Nese made me a pair of earrings that have an electric guitar on a pick, as well as UC’s logo hanging off the end. They’re cool.”
“She made you those?” He goes silent. “I like it. Maybe she can make jewelry for the rest of UC?”
I don’t want to share my personal jeweler with the band. My stomach tenses. What’s that about?
Through clenched teeth, I reply, “I’ll ask her.”
“Great. So, you have three more weeks of break. Going to that meditation retreat?”
“I will, probably the final two weeks. I still have a lot of clothes to buy.” A thought pops into my mind. “And luggage. Can’t forget that.”
“True enough.” He chuckles. “Well, it’s late. Any plans?”
“Only with my bed. Tomorrow, Nese and I are off to dim sum.” Why did I share that piece of information?
If he’s surprised, he hides it well. He only says, “Enjoy.”
After we hang up, I stare at the now-clean kitchen. My mind wanders through the chaos that was today. The selfie with my fan. The bookstore. Telling her about Lillian—a story I haven’t touched in years. The flour fight. My earrings. The bread.
The kiss.
She’s stirring something deep within me that’s been dormant for so long, I don’t think it even has a name.
The next morning, I drive us to Dim Sum Palace. Aptly named. We take our seats. Remembering she enjoys tea from the Thai restaurant, I pick up the teapot and almost start to pour before thinking she might construe it as controlling. “Would you like some?”
Nese lifts her cup. “Good memory, Grandpa.” Her smile takes the sting out of her words.
As I pour our drinks, she looks around at the various carts being wheeled throughout the dining room. Leaning forward, she says, “I hope they have taro. I love me a taro dumpling!”
I do a mental inventory. “I think they have that here. I can’t remember for sure.”
She nods. “Be on the lookout. Oh look, shumai.” She motions for one of them to be put on her plate, then looks at me. I nod and one is placed on my plate too.
Chopsticks in hand, she picks up the shrimp dumpling and tastes it. “This is delish. The shrimp is done just right. Oh wow, there’s gyoza. Yes, please!”
I’m getting as much enjoyment watching her dig in with gusto as from the various dishes themselves being wheeled around the room. I can’t remember a time I ever enjoyed dim sum more.
“Excuse me.” She stops the server. “What is this?”
“Stuffed eggplant.”
Nese wrinkles her nose. “No, thanks.”
Using my chopsticks, I motion for the item to be put on my plate. As I eat it, she says, “I never can understand why people like that vegetable. Tastes like mushy nothing to me.”
I chew the eggplant, then swallow. “It’s a vehicle for the stuffing. Which is, in this case, savory. This has been deep-fried then steamed. There’s nothing mushy about it.”
Her lips pull to the side. Her brows furrow. “I guess I could try it.”
Not wanting to wait a second for her to change her mind, I catch the server’s attention and a stuffed eggplant is deposited onto her plate. Nese picks it up and examines it as if it were alive.
“Go ahead,” I encourage her. “Take a bite. If you don’t like it, I’ll finish it.”
She blinks twice. “You’d risk getting my cooties for a piece of eggplant? Something’s not right about this equation.”
“Stop stalling.”
She sighs. “Fine.”
She tries a small piece and chews. At least she doesn’t spit it out, so I count it as a win. “Well?”
“It’s not … bad. I’m shocked.” She takes another bite. “I can’t believe I’m saying this—I actually like it.” She finishes it.
“Good for you! I’m proud of you for trying something new.”
“This is hard to accept, but”—she puts her palm over her stomach—“I’m actually full. The eggplant must’ve done me in.” A laugh escapes her. Not quite her belly laugh, but enough to turn the heads of diners next to us.
Another cart wheels by. The server announces it’s a taro dumpling.
My eyebrow goes up. “Want one?”
“Split it with me?”
I don’t usually share food. The last time I did, it was with Lillian. Of course, the band and I toss food around on the regular, but we never use each other’s plates. Or utensils.
I look over at her. “Sure.” What other option did I have?
Nese takes the taro dumpling and bites off a piece. Her face transforms as if in sheer bliss. I’ve never seen someone dive into food—or life for that matter—with such gusto. She holds out her half-full chopsticks to me. “Here.”
I lean across the table and put my mouth around them. Removing the dumpling with my teeth, I enjoy the burst of flavor. “You know, we might be even. I never tried this before, but I like it. You got eggplant, I got taro.”
She laughs. “That should be the title of UC’s next song. All the ladies would go crazy!”
Smiling, I say, “You’re nuts, you are aware of that?”
She drops her chopsticks to her plate. “I’ve been called worse.”
I want to get to the bottom of what she’s not sharing. I hold up the teapot for the server to bring us another. While we wait, I remark, “I’ve told you about my history.” Sufficient, at least. “Let me hear the Nese story. What makes the stylist to UC tick?”
“There’s not enough time for my history.” Some of the brightness drains from her expression.
I’m more intrigued. “How about the easy stuff. Where were you born?”
“Georgia. I spent the early part of my childhood in Gainesville.”
“If I remember correctly, that’s where your apartment is. So you never left home?”
“Not exactly.”
The server brings a refreshed teapot, which I pour. “Well, now you’ve got my attention. Where did you move?”
“Oklahoma.”
She sips her tea. Sensing I’m not prepared for whatever she’s hiding, I don’t press her.
I’m about to tell her she doesn’t owe me an explanation when she continues.
“My parents fought a lot when I was a kid. Dad even left the house when I was five, but came back a few months later. Of course, I was in kindergarten at the time, so I didn’t understand too much of what was happening.
They stayed together until I was eleven, when he left Ma for another woman. ”
“Ouch. I’m sorry.” My parents have been married forever, but Río went through a similar struggle with his. I was there. It wasn’t pretty.
She takes a sip of tea. “After that, Ma met this guy, Kelvin Steele.” She studies me as if the name should mean something. It doesn’t.
I admit, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him.”
“Probably for the best. He leads a religious organization out in Oklahoma called the Luminous Covenant. Ma moved us out there to join his, well, cult. I was twelve.”
“Geez. But you’re here now.”
“True. I am. About four years in, I was a sixteen-year-old living on this repressive compound. Naturally, I started to rebel. At first, I did little stuff such as getting my hands on ‘forbidden’ magazines, like Vogue. Let’s just say things escalated, and I was kicked out when I turned eighteen. ” She drains her teacup.
I lift the pot, but she shakes her head. I return it to the table as my mind races with how on earth she survived. I clear my throat. “Your mother let that happen?”
“Let it happen? No. Actively encouraged Kelvin to kick me out is more like it.” She turns her face away, then lifts her palm to hide her expression. Her shoulders rock.
I want to hug her to me. Offer her solace. Help this vivacious creature soar rather than be crushed under the weight of losing her mother to a cult. In addition to turning against her.
Her cachet raises a notch in my book.
The server comes with the check. Instead of continuing our conversation, I take care of the bill and we exit the restaurant.
I choose my next words carefully. “I have to say, you seem to have adjusted to life outside the cult well enough to impress Luke. He doesn’t let just anyone join a UC tour.”
“I wanted to see the world Kelvin denied me. This gig seemed like a good way to do that.”