Page 28 of Driving Beats

She can’t mean anything by that.

I make quick work of walking through the shelves, and Nese follows me to the counter with a variety of pastries and a wall of coffee makers. After looking at the menu on the chalkboard, she orders a latte with a pastry. I make it two and, carrying our goodies, we find comfy, upholstered chairs in the corner.

“Have you been here before?” She takes a bite out of her pastry.

“A few times. This is at the top of my list of bookstores in LA.” I sip my latte. “Doesn’t hurt it has this great coffee shop attached to it.”

“I bet.” She swallows. “So you don’t mind shopping. You only hate clothes shopping.”

I raise my right hand. “Guilty.”

“May I see what you bought?” She points to the bag.

My left shoulder lifts then lowers. “Sure.”

I pass it to her. She takes out my books but first holds up the guitar-shaped bookmark. “Seriously? Can’t resist a guitar anything? And it says, ‘I just go where the guitar takes me.’” She shakes her head.

“I had another one, but it was in my luggage.”

“I can only imagine. I bet it had some deep Zen quote.”

“Not exactly, smart ass.” I fiddle with my sunglasses. “It actually was a picture of Darren and me in elementary school, taken by Río.”

Her fingers cover her mouth. “Oh, Coop. I had no idea.

I sigh. “It was the only thing of importance that I lost in the whole debacle.”

After a long moment, Nese focuses her attention on my new books. She examines them one by one, reading the back cover, followed by the inside flap, then flips through each. She lifts the meditation one. “This one’s interesting.”

“I’ve read the author before. He offers great insights and helps me consider things in a different way.” My cell phone beeps. Pulling it out of my pocket, a reminder about next week’s meditation retreat has popped up. “How much longer do you think it’ll take us to wrap up shopping?”

“You still need to fill out all the categories we discussed. Oh, and I forgot you’ll have to pick up some sandals for the beach. At the rate we’re going, I’m hoping to finish up sometime next week.” She lifts another one of my new books.

I nod. “Okay.”

She looks excited about rounding out my wardrobe. Truth be told, I’m enjoying getting to know her, beneath the surface party-girl layer. She has eclectic taste, a wicked sense of humor, and I’ve learned is whip-smart. Somehow, it feels as if I’m only skimming her top layer. I can attend the meditation retreat the final two weeks. I drop out of next week’s retreat, and program a reminder into my phone for week three.

She puts her latte down on the table. “Was that an important text?”

“No.” I return my cell to my back pocket. These new jeans do fit me well. “I cancelled next week’s session of the retreat. I still have the last two weeks before UC’s tour resumes.”

“Coop, maybe there’s a way you can do both? Go to the retreat in the morning and then shop in the evening.” She picks at the remaining bits of her pastry.

I smile. “It doesn’t work like that. These retreats take all day, and zap me of the ability to do more than eat and sleep afterwards. I’m good with going for two weeks.” I finish my latte. “Besides, you’ve even helped me with my meditation.”

She raises the cup to her lips, her head tilted. “I have? How on earth have I done that?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. But ever since you’ve been helping me shop⁠—”

“Helping? More like dragging you from store to store for as long as I can keep your attention! If what I’m doing is called ‘helping,’ I should bottle this up and sell it to women everywhere!” She laughs.

I can’t help but chuckle. “Alright. Maybe helping wasn’t the right word choice. How about, ever since you’ve taken me shopping?”

“Better.”

“Great. Since we’ve been shopping, I’ve found my morning meditation sessions to be more focused. I’m able to clear my mind, without intrusions.”

She flips through my new book on meditation, then closes it. “Intrusions? You mean, like wayward thoughts?”