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“You remember Angel; he owns the thrift store down the block.” Recognition crosses his face, and even though he’s never set foot in Angel’s thrift store, he knows its significance. Neither one of us has to say it, but we’re both thinking that Angel’s thrift store is the place where Greta, Mia’s assistant, found the jeans.
Thejeans.
The jeans Jack wrote the lyrics toBlood & Boneon while Mia was wearing them, back before any of the fame, the drugs, the heartache. Those jeans had been stolen, along with their van, more than twenty years ago, but like fate, they turned back up in Angel’s thrift store, because ghosts never stay buried for long, and they always come back to haunt you.
Angel appears at the car window again, and this time Jack rolls it down for him.
“Fucking wives, man, am I right?” He shakes his head, smiling and holding the phone up before placing it back in his pocket.
Angel focuses back on Jack. “You looking for a ring?”
Jack turns to me. “I am not buying Erin an engagement ring from a fucking thrift store,” he says with conviction.
“Hey!” Angel says, offended. “I got high quality stuff.” He puffs out his chest, looking more like a penguin than a tough guy.
“Oh yeah? From which celebrity’s house did thishigh qualitystuff come from?” Jack opens the door, pushing Angel out of the way, and leans against his car to light up a cigarette.
“I thought you were quitting,” I say, shaking my head at him.
“Are you my mother?” Jack quips.
Angel laughs, pointing at me. “You got a square for me?” he asks Jack.
“I thought you said you weren’t a street beggar,” Jack retorts, turning to me, a playful smile on his face. Maybe the nicotine is calming his nerves.
“You ain’t gotta be like that,Amigo.” Angel sports a sad face but then lights up when Jack passes him the pack of cigarettes.
“Don’t do it, man.” Angel tries to lean on the car, but thinks better of it when Jack gives him a half-hearted glare.
“I’ll bite.” Jack laughs. “Don’t do what?”
“Get married.” Angel blows out the smoke. He digs in his pocket and holds the phone out between them. “They put a leash around you.”
I laugh hard.
“Why you gotta laugh at me?” Angel asks.
“Because you love that leash,” I accuse him.
He jabs Jack with his elbow. “He’s fucking right.” Angel laughs loudly.
“Has he been drinking?” Jack asks me.
I shake my head and smile. “He’s always like this.”
“Nice neighbors you have,” Jack snarks, rolling his eyes and taking one last drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out with his shoe on the ground.
“Let’s go look at these gumball machine rings of yours,” Jack says, pushing off from the car.
10
LOVE IS LOVE
CASH
I Wanna Be Sedated by Ramones
Angel’s thrift store is crowded with spiral racks of clothes pushed close together that slap you like a drive through carwash when you walk between them. When we finally get to the back of the store, there are glass cases filled with leather wallets, gold watches, and tennis bracelets. On the wall are shelves filled with knickknacks, car radios, purses, and anything else you can imagine.
