Page 22 of Driving Beats

I gather the dishes and approach the sink, only to hear her gasp. Pivoting, I ask, “Is everything alright?”

“I was going to compliment you on your outfit. The jeans and shirt look great on you.” She points to my feet. “However, those sneakers have got to go.”

I bow my head. “Why? They’re fine.” I lift my foot. “No holes.”

Her eyes slam shut. She reopens them after a full minute. “If whether shoes have holes is your sole criterion, I have a lot of work to do with you. Let’s make a shoe store our first stop.”

The morning was going so well.

8

NESE

Ithink my homemade breakfast went a long way toward making up for what I did to his Zen Garden. If I had known what it was, I never would’ve dragged my luggage through it. At least I raked a good portion of it before he caught me. Even though my goal wasn’t to be caught.

Turning to the more immediate concern, my catch of his shoes cements my prior appraisal of his fashion sense. Those sneakers have seen better decades. I suppose if he were on his way to the gym—and wearing workout clothes—they might be acceptable. Certainly not with his outfit today. Maybe he needs a style refresher in addition to overhaul. After all, I’m not going to be around picking out his outfits forever.

“Let me research some good places to buy shoes in LA, and we’ll hit there first.” I pause. Guess it can’t hurt to ask. “Unless, of course, you have a favorite shoe store nearby?”

The expression on his face tells me everything I need to know. Coop cements my intuition. “I usually run into whatever store is close.”

Now’s a good a time as any to start Fashion 101 with him. “Why don’t you help me find a shoe store? What do you like about shopping for shoes?”

“When I leave.”

I roll my eyes. “Could you be any less enthusiastic? Your retail therapy would be most people’s dream. However, I want to set you up for success when I’m not around. When you’re looking for shoes—or really, any piece of clothing—you need to look for quality, first and foremost. It’s always better to purchase one very expensive pair that will last you years, rather than a cheapy pair that can’t survive a season.”

“See?” He returns to his KP duties at the sink. “I already have this one covered. I don’t want to shop more than I have to, so all my clothes and shoes last years.”

Seriously? “But they shouldn’t. There’s a difference.” I pull out my cell. “Let’s check out shoe stores nearby. This will give us a good starting place.” A list appears and we evaluate each. Rather, I do the deep dives while he washes the griddle and puts the rest of the items into the dishwasher.

By the time he’s done, I’ve compiled an agenda of five stores. “Now, you’ll need sneakers—for both working out and casual times, such as for your meditation—sure, but also slip-ons, boots, oxfords, and loafers. Let’s begin there.” A thought occurs. “Wait. Do you meditate in bare feet?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. You won’t need shoes for that, so you can wear sandals. When are you going to the retreat again?”

“Next Monday.”

“In five days.” I snap my fingers. “Right. You were supposed to start the Monday that just passed, but because of the Vanishing Luggage Mystery, you’re delayed by a week. Hey, what do you wear to this retreat? We’ll need to get you something for it.” I add this category to my Notes app on my phone.

He retakes his seat at the dinette. “People mainly are in whatever’s comfortable. Sweats, shorts, that sort of thing. There are Zen robes, but I’ve never bothered with them.”

“Maybe we should look into them?” I make another note. “Although, you in grey sweats…” My mind wanders at the possibility, especially after seeing him in his new jeans.

“Yeah. Grey sweats would be fine.”

I keep my mouth shut. “Got it. So you need clothes for meditation and your retreats, plus casual things, items for out to dinner, out to clubs, running errands.” I mark these in the app.

Coop protests. “I usually wear jeans and a t-shirt all day, no matter what I’m doing.”

I take my eyes off my phone. “I know. Let’s try to up that a bit, since we have this opportunity.”

“I’m beginning to suspect the Label deliberately lost my luggage.”

I place my hand on top of his. “I sincerely doubt it.” He looks skeptical. “Think about it this way. If they wanted you to change your clothes so badly, they could’ve done it ages ago.”

“Thanks.” He blinks, which I can see since his sunglasses are on the table. “I’m not that bad.”