Page 87 of Driving Beats

“What are you going to do about it, Cooper?”

Crap. When she uses my full name, I know she means business. I tell her my idea. “Do you suppose it’ll work?”

She takes her time responding. “Not having met the girl, but knowing how deeply you feel for her, I can’t imagine how she could turn my boy down. I will say, with one hundred percent certainty, that being with the one you love makes the highs that much better, and the lows that much easier to bear. I’m sure your brother would agree. Grandpa says it every chance he gets.”

I smile. “I knew you would say something like that.”

“So, what are you waiting for? Go make me proud.”

With Mom’s words echoing, I end the call and immediately book a flight to Atlanta.

Ready or not, I’m coming for you, Nese.

24

COOP

The plane touches down, and the flight attendant ushers me out through the door first. Being a member of UC has its perks.

However, being surrounded by fans in the hallway isn’t one of them. Despite wanting to pick up my rental car and be underway, I’m stuck signing autographs and taking selfies with several people I don’t know. Nese’s observation that I should step up and give Bennett and Río a break guilts me into staying with the pack. The fans seem excited to meet me, so it makes this delay easier to bear.

In the rental line, I keep my head down but a little boy about seven tugs on my arm. “’Scuse me. Are you Coop with UC?”

I bend down to his level. “I am.”

He holds up his hands, showing me the beginnings of calluses. “I started playing guitar because of you. I can only play chords and stuff, but I have several picks. And I got these.” He wiggles his fingers.

Tucking my sunglasses into my shirt, I show him my palm. “Keep it up, and your fingers will look like these in no time.”

“Wow.” He reaches out, then pauses. I nod, and he traces my fingertips. “These are so cool.”

Amazing what kids find impressive. “They’re a hazard of the profession.”

“I want them,” he announces. “You’re my uber favorite guitar player.”

I try to think of something to sign for him, but neither one of us has anything worth autographing. My hand steals to my sunglasses, and I remember Nese making a comment that I should update these. I pull them out from the neck of my shirt and put them on the boy’s face. “If you wear these, they’ll give you rockstar vibes.”

He grabs the temples and pushes the too-big sunglasses up his nose. “Thank you, Coop! I’ll wear these whenever I’m playing. When I make it big like you, I’ll be photographed in them all the time.”

I tousle his hair. “I bet you will.”

I’m called to the desk and turn to leave, watching the little boy run back to his parents, gesticulating like Río does. With a smile, I rent a car and drive directly to a hotel in Atlanta UC has frequented. While I’m anxious to see Nese right away, I don’t want to arrive too late at night Georgia time to have the meaningful conversation we need. Besides, I have earrings to make.

In my room, I order a meal and spend countless hours on YouTube trying to figure out how to use Nese’s jewelry-making kit. At some ungodly hour, I’ve finally created a pair of simple earrings. The beads are dark blue like her eyes… which are my attempt at counteracting the uneven guitar strings I used to connect them.

The morning finally arrives. After carefully packing her jewelry kit in my carry-on, I begin the trek to Gainesville. Along the way, a billboard instructing drivers to turn in one mile to get “Unrivaled Dresses For All Occasions” catches my attention. Perhaps I should bring her a dress as well as the earrings? In any event, it could offset the many imperfections in my initial jewelry-making attempt. I enter the parking lot.

When I enter the store, racks and racks of clothing greet me. Thanks to all the shopping Nese made me do, however, I don’t get antsy. Rather, I approach the dresses like she taught me for men’s clothing, assessing colors and style. She could never blend in, so all the conservative ones are out.

I come upon a rack of fun dresses, with some bottoms cut on a slant. I flip through several pieces in her size and pick up three. As I’m shopping, a woman wearing a nametag approaches. “Hello, may I help you with anything, Sugar?”

Not used to being called such an endearment, I reach for my sunglasses only to realize the little boy from the rental car line has them. Whatever. Nese is more important than a stupid pet name. I clear my throat. “Actually, I like these three dresses for my, uhm, my girlfriend, but I’m not sure which to choose.” I hold up the hangers, praying my characterization of her is accurate.

“Oh, this will be fun. I know your sweetie is sure to love whichever one you land on, but we definitely want to get her the exact right dress.” She checks out the items. “It so happens that I’m her size. How about I try them on so you’ll have a better idea?”

“Thanks. That would be great.”

She leads me over to the dressing rooms and tells me to take a seat. I wait for her to appear in the first dress, which is pretty but doesn’t scream “Nese” to me. Same for the second. When she appears in the third dress, though, it’s clear this one is the winner.