Chapter 36
Nailed It Hardware Store, West Hollywood, Los Angeles
While Antoinette is off at Flexual Healing, I’ve come to a local hardware store to get some supplies for our new guest’s imminent arrival.
I’d be a really terrible host if I didn’t get some special things in for his stay with us.
Now, really, what I should be doing is splitting these purchases up over a number of different stores because it looks extremely shady and very serial killer coded buying duct tape, zip ties and tarpaulin all in one place.
But this is Hollywood, if anyone raises a suspicious eyebrow at me, I can just say I’m working on a movie and the producer has sent me to buy some props.
I’ve filled my basket with all the essentials and am just deciding whether to buy extra duct tape – you can never have too much of the stuff – when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
I turn around and am greeted by a face I kind of recognise but I’m not sure where from.
I’m trying to place it when the face speaks to me.
‘Kitty,’ it says. ‘I thought it was you.’
I stare at the man in front of me for a full minute before I recognise him.
‘Cort!’ I say. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m in another world today.’ This isn’t entirely true. I couldn’t place him because he isn’t sporting his man-bun. Instead his dark tresses are swooshing around his shoulders like something out of a prestige shampoo commercial.
I’m actually very envious of the shine on his hair.
It looks almost laminated.
I wonder if he glosses.
Would it be rude to ask which one he uses?
‘What are you doing here?’ he asks, peering into my basket.
‘It’s not the kind of place tourists usually come to.
’ He looks into my basket again. ‘Is there something wrong over at the villa? You just need to speak to Agnes about that. She’ll call her parents to sort it.
You don’t need to do it yourself.’ His tone very much suggests that he wants to add, ‘silly girl’ at the end but can’t. Because feminist man.
I look into my basket as well.
It does look very Serial Killer Starter Kit and I can’t use the movie assistant line on Cort. He knows full well I’m not working on a movie.
‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s um … art. It’s for my art.’
Cort’s brow puckers slightly. ‘Art?’ he says. ‘I didn’t know you were an artist, Kitty.’
‘Oh, I’m not, not really,’ I say. ‘Well, not seriously, I should say. It’s just something I like to do in my spare time.’
He looks at my haul yet again.
Jesus Christ, does the man have no concept of privacy? Then again, I can tell he’s the sort of man who would stop me in a drugstore buying tampons and have a full conversation with me about my flow.
‘Art,’ he says again. ‘I’d love to see some of it sometime. I’m intrigued as to what sort of art you do with … duct tape and … are those zip ties?’
I smile and try to flutter my eyelashes at him.
‘It’s very modern stuff,’ I say. ‘Sculpture. Like installation art.’ I have no actual idea what the words I’m saying mean.
I’m just hoping Cort isn’t secretly an avant garde art buff who’ll easily catch me out in my lies.
‘I’m very amateur,’ I add, just in case.
‘Right,’ he says, nodding. ‘I don’t know much about that sort of thing. Bananas taped to walls and exploding paintings. To my shame. I can just about identify a Banksy and that’s it.’ He says ‘Banksy’ in a faux British accent that makes me cringe into myself.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, desperate to change the subject before he starts grilling me more about my ‘art’. One thing that can always be counted on with men is that they love the opportunity to talk about themselves.
They can’t resist.
Even the ‘feminist’ ones.
I peer into the basket Cort is carrying but it’s completely empty.
‘Oh,’ he says, looking at the nothing he is carrying too.
‘I’m just running a few errands for Lauren.
There’s some stuff over at the guesthouse that she needs fixing.
Think it’s a leaky pipe. Agnes’s parents don’t tend to extend their hosting responsibilities to the girls so I end up doing a lot of their DIY for them.
’ He points at the wall of duct tape we’re standing in front of.
‘That seems unfair,’ I say but Cort just shrugs.
‘I mean, I don’t believe in gender roles, but if it makes Lauren feel supported then I’m more than happy to pick up a drill. Or a roll of Gorilla Grip.’
I meant it didn’t seem fair that Agnes’s parents only fix up problems in the main house but I don’t correct him. I actually want to get out of this conversation – and store – as quickly as possible now.
‘That’s great,’ I say.
I try to step away from him to get to the till, but Cort steps the same way. Then I step the other way and he does too. And now we’re doing some weird no-contact waltz in the duct tape aisle.
‘You know,’ he says, not reading the social cues and trying to carry on the conversation. ‘Lauren’s always saying that we should do more cultural stuff. Maybe we should all go to an exhibition together sometime?’
‘Sure,’ I say noncommittally. How did I get from staying at the most discreet hotel in Hollywood to ending up somewhere where my roommate’s boyfriend is trying to bond with me?
This was very much not the plan.
His gaze lands on my basket again and sweat is starting to prickle my underarms. I need to get out of here. ‘It’s cool you make things,’ he says, putting his hands over his heart. ‘I think it’s so important to have a creative outlet for our emotions. I find working with my hands very grounding.’
‘Yes,’ I say in agreement.
It will be very grounding, what I’m planning to do to Aidan Ward with my hands later.
I really do enjoy my creative emotional outlet.
‘I actually make my own jewellery sometimes,’ he says. Of course he does. ‘I find the use of crystals and the physicality of threading beads very meditative.’
I take a pointed look at his empty basket. ‘I suppose you should be getting on then.’
‘Yes,’ he says, casting a glance at the different brands of tape.
‘I suppose I should.’ He looks around. ‘Actually, I think I might leave it for now,’ he says and puts his basket down on the floor.
‘I’ve just remembered that I need to plan a sound bath immersion experience for later tonight.
’ He does that funny little pray-bow thing and gives me a smile.
‘Good to see you,’ he says. ‘I’ll catch you later. ’
And then he disappears down the aisle and out of the store.
Well.
That was bizarre.
I stare after him but then I hear someone clear their throat behind me.
‘Help you with anything?’
I turn around and it’s a store assistant with a badge saying ‘happy to help’ pinned to his chest. And he actually does look happy to help, not like he’d rather be vaping and texting round the back of the shop like retail staff in the UK.
‘No thanks,’ I say. ‘I’m good.’
‘Cool,’ he says. ‘We’ve got heavy-duty tarps on sale if you want them. Buy one get one free?’
That sounds like a good idea.
I let him lead me to the tarps and pick up two.
Because you just never know.