Page 40 of Driving Beats

In the opposite direction. The more I learn about this enigmatic man, the more I understand how this suits him. “By all means.”

We begin walking and, unlike with the topiaries, these plants do not have little plaques identifying them. Nonetheless, he points out some of the vegetation by name. We pass a group of yellow flowers. I wave at them. “Hey there, Harold.”

He turns in a slow circle. Nobody’s on the trail with us. “Who?”

I crouch beside one of the flowers as though introducing myself. “You were naming all the plants. I thought I would be helpful and name this one.”

He tucks his sunglasses into his shirt. “This is a—” He stops. “Never mind. From now on, it shall be called Harold.” He waves at the yellow flower.

We hike for a short while until we cross the creek over a wood-hewn bridge. I sit on a boulder, while Coop takes a perch to my right.

I take a deep breath.

“So, you know I was kicked out of the cult. What I didn’t tell you is Ma was grateful she didn’t have to deal with me anymore. Kelvin left me at a bus stop in Oklahoma with nothing more than five-hundred dollars. Oh, and after I told him I wanted to return to Georgia, he bought me a one-way ticket there. The trip took over twenty-eight hours.” I shake my head to halt the memories. “Anyway, once in Gainesville, I got a couple of waitressing jobs, and stayed in a shelter until I saved enough money to cover rent with roommates.”

Because his sunglasses aren’t on his face, it’s easy to see the concern in his expressive hazel eyes. He leans over and places his hand on my arm. “You were cut loose with only a few hundred bucks and nowhere to go?”

I square my shoulders. “I knew I wanted to return to Gainesville. That was my sole motivator at the time. Once I got there, finding a couple of jobs wasn’t too difficult. I stabilized and found my footing pretty fast.”

“I’m impressed.” He rubs his hands on his thighs. “You’ve told me how you ended up back in Georgia, working in restaurants. If you don’t mind me asking… How did you get into the fashion world?”

I smile. “That’s an easy one. Remember, I got in trouble by Kelvin for having a copy of Vogue?” He nods. “With every extra dollar I made, I bought more magazines about clothing. Went to the library and scoured the internet for more information. It’s free there.” I glance at him, then continue, “Fashion fascinated me, probably because when I was in the cult, I had to wear the same ugly uniform day in and day out.”

“You certainly have a knack for style.” He replaces his sunglasses over his eyes, ending my ability to read him.

I stifle my urge to yank them off.

“Thanks. Well, my roommate Alexis asked me about an outfit she was considering for a date, and I switched things up for her. Have I told you she’s applying to college?”

The sunglasses move from side to side.

I flip my hand. “No matter. In any event, pretty soon I was helping a bunch of people look their best. Within two years, I became known as the guru for fashion advice in the area. I probably watched every single episode of Emilie Dubois’s show at least ten times. She’s amazing.”

“I don’t know her, but she and Cole Manchester used to be a thing, if I remember correctly.”

I shrug. “She’s my hero. She married his former bodyguard. Anyway, I saw an ad for a stylist position that Platinum ran in Vogue. They were scouting in Atlanta, so I took a train out there and interviewed with some people. I hit it off with them, and they recommended me to Luke. I have no idea how many stylists they sent to Luke, but when we met, I really liked him. He reminds me of how I remember Dad. The rest, as they say, is history.”

Coop sits straighter. “Your dad left when you were young. Luke never would walk away from his daughter—if he had one.”

“I know he wouldn’t. I’m just saying he has this air of competence around him that I associate with Dad.”

“True enough. Luke is more than competent.” He chuckles. “With UC, I bet it’s like herding cats sometimes.”

I laugh. It’s good to laugh, even while telling him such a sordid tale. “I can see that. Río sure did give him a run for his money.”

“I’m thinking those days are over now.” He slants me a sidelong glance. “Perhaps you might be able to get him to wear a shirt.”

A full-on belly laugh explodes. “I may be a fantastic stylist, but I’m not a miracle worker. The man has an aversion to shirts unlike anything I’ve ever heard of. He says it’s because he doesn’t want anything to interfere with his drumming. I think he wants to show off his abs.”

“You might be right there. Although, he’s never worn a shirt when he played drums, even when we were in middle school and scrawny as shit.”

I picture each band member as pre-teens. “I can’t imagine any of you as scrawny.”

“Believe me, we were. Now, back to your story. Are you in touch with your mother at all?”

“Way to give me whiplash, guitar boy!” I reassemble my thoughts. “No. We said everything we needed to back in Oklahoma. Ma’s fully integrated into the Luminous Covenant. I don’t see how she’ll ever leave.”

“I’m sorry. She’s missing out on an amazing daughter.”