Page 42 of Drum Me Away
Normally, I’d push back, tell her she ought to be herself, her family be damned. In any other situation, I wouldn’t have told the rest of the band to dress conservatively, and I would have bought that first suit and called it good.
But this was anything but normal, and I wasn’t willing to risk bursting that bubble we’d created up in that treehouse.
It’s not the same, Dad.
Finally, Faith and I compromised on a charcoal suit with a gray shirt and a tie that was somewhere in between the two colors. With yet another wink, Roxanne tucked an orange tie that was the exact same shade as the orange streaks in Faith’s hair into the box.
Our purchases were wrapped in tissue paper and garment bags, packed into shimmering silver and black boxes, and the assistant was ringing up the total when a tinkling bell indicated another customer had entered the store.
Faith and I were standing side by side next to the cash register, not wearing our baseball caps or sunglasses. She dove for her hat, which was resting on the couch near the fitting rooms, while I glanced over my shoulder to assess the situation before deciding what to do. Was Faith panicking over potentially being recognized or was being spotted with me in a bridal store?
Danielle, the cashier from Walmart, wandered into the store, wringing her hands, eyes wide, her gaze darting every which way. She was practically shaking in her Converse sneakers.
Roxanne breezed over to greet her, but Danielle’s eyes went even wider as she spotted me.
“Ohmigod, Lucas!”
“Shit,” I heard Faith mutter right before Danielle said, “And Faith!” like she’d stumbled across a box of not only adorable kittens, but puppies too.
Danielle rushed over to me, smiling so wide her face might crack, while holding her hands before her as if she were in prayer.
“I can’t believe I’ve run into you twice in one week, let alone one lifetime,” she said.
* * *
“What?” I whipped my head around, narrowing my eyes at Lucas. When the hell did he have time to hang out with groupies? The only opportunities were during his run and when he’d stopped for groceries, and he hadn’t mentioned any fan run-ins either time.
In fact, he’d specifically said he hadn’t been recognized at the grocery store.
“Hey, Danielle, what’s up?” Lucas said, sounding utterly calm, cool, and collected.
God, I wanted to have faith in him, I wanted to believe that whatever happened between us yesterday could mean more than just fabulous sex. Except whatever happened also came with a whole shitload of fear and complications courtesy of us working together in the band and my own history with relationships, piled on top of my grandmother’s death—and now this.
Danielle—she couldn’t be more than twenty, maybe twenty-one—rolled her eyes and spoke to him as if they were old friends. “My cousin is getting married and she asked me to be in the wedding. I’m supposed to get my dress from here, but gah, I can’t afford anything here, let alone the dress she wants us to wear. I hope they have a payment plan. A really, really long payment plan.”
She paused to take a breath, while I blew out a steadying one. Lucas wasn’t Hank. He wasn’t Hank. He wasn’t—
“What are you doing here?” Danielle’s gaze bounced from Lucas to me to the packages in Lucas’s arms and her eyes went impossibly wide again. “No! Really?”
“No,” I said, my voice flat. “No. It is not what you’re thinking.”
“Oh,” Danielle said, her shoulders slumping as if her body were deflating.
“It’s a funeral,” I said, not that I was obligated to explain myself to this woman I didn’t even know. “We need outfits for a funeral.”
“Oh,” Danielle said again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” I said stiffly before giving Lucas a cool glance. “Can we go now?”
His eyes narrowed, his mouth pinched, but he didn’t say anything, just started walking toward the entrance.
As we passed Roxanne, the shopkeeper said nothing, merely lifted her brows. Just as we slipped out the door, I heard her reassuring Danielle that they did, in fact, have generous payment plans, and then the door closed, cutting off the rest of their conversation.
Once we were in the vehicle and I was back behind the wheel, Lucas said, “What was that all about?”
I flung myself around in my seat. “I could ask you the same. Who the hell was that?”
“Who? Danielle? Just some fan.”
