Page 41 of Driving Beats

I slow blink, then smile. “I am pretty amazing, aren’t I? I got you all wearing hot stage outfits, and now you’re gonna flex your trendy clothes in real life.” I blow on my knuckles.

“I wouldn’t take it that far.” He chuckles. “I have to say, in all honesty, I’m very impressed by you. You’re only twenty-four and I bet you have more life experience than most baby boomers. Pulling yourself up from literally nothing is an amazing feat.”

I gaze at the ground. “Thanks.”

“One thing’s been nagging at me though.” He swallows, “Tell me, how did your vocabulary get so strong? I’ve heard the words you use, so don’t deny it.”

I shrug. “After breaking free of the cult, I recognized my education was lacking despite having graduated from high school there. So, I took online classes when I could and read the classics. You know, Shakespeare, Austin, Conan Doyle. I love Agatha Christie the best, truth be told.”

He rubs his chin. “Can’t say I’ve read her.”

“Oh, you should! Her mysteries are great. They’ll leave you guessing until the end of the book. Miss Marple and Poirot are better than Sherlock Holmes, IMHO.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, when I’m looking for my next read.”

“More interesting than the boring ones you bought yesterday, to be sure.”

His head cocks. “I enjoy my deep dive into Zen and Buddhism. Like your online classes, I consider it to be my higher education. It centers me.”

“Yeah, well, after growing up in the tender mercies of the Luminous Covenant, I can assure you that your books are safe from me. No religions interest me in the slightest.” I look at him. “No offense.”

Coop raises his hand. “None taken.” He stares into the creek. “Do you believe in any sort of higher being?”

I chew on my bottom lip. “I don’t know. All I’m sure of is formal religions can suck it.”

He toys with his earring. “You have a way with words, Nese.”

My shoulder lifts. “That’s how I feel.”

“Did you always?”

I consider his question instead of giving him a flip answer. “I used to love going to Christmas services and seeing the church all decorated. I also liked the story around Jesus’ birth.” My hand waves. “Emphasis on story.”

“Then you grew to dislike religion when you were in the cult.”

“Among other things.” I stand and rub my hands together to remove the loose dirt. My heart rate flutters. This man knows everything about me. What was I thinking? “Ready to leave?”

He gets to his feet. “Sure.”

We pass by a treehouse and another set of wildflower beds. My mind is filled with images from my time at the cult, and Ma’s last words to me. “Go be a nothing out of my sight, Agnes.” She never accepted the name I'd chosen for myself. Even all these years later, her words still sting.

My chin rises.

I’m not a nothing. UC relies on me for their style, both on and, now, off the stage. They’re major rockstars—I am someone.

Coop interrupts my thoughts. “Nese, if I never said it before, I’m grateful you’re our stylist. You gave us an edge we never had, yet tailored it to each of our personalities. Thank you.”

His words hip-check Ma’s out of my being. In the middle of the trail, I stop and wrap my arms around my upper body. I take one deep breath.

I try to take another.

I can’t get any air.

The next thing I know, tears flow, unchecked, down my cheeks.

Coop comes and wraps me in his strong embrace. He doesn’t say a word, merely lets me cry out all the years of being inside the cult, then not. And all the time I spent rebuilding—no, building—a life for myself. My arms travel up his torso, and I hold onto his frame while I succumb to these memories.

Finally, I regain my control. Against his new shirt, I say, “No one has ever said anything like this to me. Thank you.” I step back.