Page 68 of A Country Kind Of Love
She knows she will have to talk to him eventually. He is Jesse’s friend which leaves her no choice.
“No, thank you.” She rolls her eyes.
“Who’s Marvin?” Her dad asks. She hasn’t told him, not really. She mentioned about writing songs for another artist, but she knew trying to explain the whole Cleo ordeal would leave her feeling depleted. Sometimes it’s easier to bury the pain. Peyton is good at that.
“Nobody important.” Peyton sighs.
The good thing about her dad, and a difference between him and her mom, is his capacity to know when to pry and when to accept defeat.
“Okay.” He shrugs.
“How long do I have toget ready?”
Jesse glances at his watch, even though his watch absolutely does not work. It’s a habit of his.
“I’d say about...” There’s a knock at the door, “...ten minutes.” He grins.
Peyton makes a run for the bedroom. Ten minutes is enough time to freshen up, plus she has the perfect outfit from her shopping haul.
?
The curling iron flashes from red to green; she reaches just shy of the metal part that’s hot enough to solder steel.
“Shit,”she mutters.
The anger forces her to switch it off. She doesn’t need to curl her hair; it’s naturally curly, but a few strands look flat today. She spies the light brown fedora that hangs fromher bedpost.
That will do.
Hair done.
Her makeup has survived the day. She hasVogueand their article about hero makeup products to thank for her resilient look. She’s always been a sucker for a good recommendation. In the past twelve months she’s tried to reign it in after being conned into subscribing to a years’ worth of health drinks. The health drinks were not the worst part, in fact, she enjoyed them. They came in aesthetically pleasing little boxes every week, with packs of ice which came in handy for her brothers and their endless listof injuries.
Her next buy in was a monthly subscription to chocolate themed items. When she found herself drinking a ginger infused carrot drink for breakfast followed by chocolate orange flavoured macaroons, she knew it was time to stop being so easily bamboozled. Nobody should be allowed to offer samples. It’s an unfair advantage.
Peyton quickly changes into her new skinny black jeans and a brown belt. She reaches for a black crop top from her everyday pile before delving into her shopping bags for the cream and black button up flannel shirt. The outfit is simple. It’s country, slightly warm but adjustable. She likes to be able to climatise. You would never find her in a thick turtleneck jumper, not after the incident of 2019. It’s etched in her mind. Turtlenecks used to be her friend. They were comfortable garments, quite flattering in most respects, and most fashion gurus would tell you they accentuate your face—allgood things.
Until she’s in New York on the underground, and the train breaks down. The tunnels are pitch black. Peyton hears the train screech to a halt. She is stuck for over an hour; the heat becomes unbearable; the more she panics the worse it gets. Until, her poor choice of clothing—the turtleneck—feels like it is laughing at her whilst softly choking her to death. Turns out it was a piece of clothing that halted the train in the first place—the irony.
She’s refused to wear oneever since.
The noise level rises which indicates more arrivals. She admires her outfit in the full-length mirror. It’s missing something. She changes her smaller gold hoops for a thicker vintage looking pair; they go well with her hair down.
A different necklace. That’s what she’s missing.
She removes the small gold Figaro chain that she wears most days. The multi-tier jewellery stand she purchased off Amazon doesn’t house all her jewellery, but it holds enough to give her choice. She bypasses the silver necklace holding Cleo’s ring. She thought about asking her if she wanted it back. She thought about numerous conversation starters daily, but they were all irrelevant. Peyton still held out hope Cleo would contact her in her own time, but as the days now turn into weeks, she’s starting to think maybe Cleo never felt the sameway she did.
How can someone have such a significant impact in such a short time? Everywhere she looks in her bedroom, in the apartment, out in the streets of Nashville, it all reminds her of Cleo. Every song she tries to write is about Cleo. She’s gone from sad songs about the loss of her mom to sad romantic songs about Cleo, and that’s what her life has become, a sad piano ballad.
The gold circle pendant necklace is the winning choice. She struggles with the clasp for a while before she gives up.
“God damn it.” How hard is it to put on a necklace. Her hands are clammy now which makes herfrustrated.
“Need some help with that, kiddo?” Her dad appears in the doorway all night in shining armour.
“Yes, please.” He does it on the first attempt. “How?”
“Rough stumpy fingers help.” He wiggles themand laughs.
