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“Why don’t you just do a moonshine jug?”
“What’s that?”
I looked at Quin stunned. “What did they even teach you in high school?”
“Math,” he said dryly.
I laughed.
“Touché. Well, now that you’re in Tennessee, you’re gonna have to go back and learn the fundamentals.”
I tried to explain what a moonshine jug looked like. By the time I got to the part about there being three Xs on the front of it, he was lost.
“Why are there three Xs on it?”
“To tell people that they will die if they drink it. Moonshine’s grain alcohol. It’ll burn your insides out.”
“But people do drink it, don’t they,” He asked confused.
“Of course. What else are you gonna do with it?”
“Make a car bomb?” He asked wryly.
I laughed hard. “That’s only after you’ve drunk it.”
“Okay, so it’s clear I need some help with this,” he said defeated.
“I could help you.”
“You could?”
“Sure. I mean, you clearly need help and I’ve made enough wire-framed dresses to fill a festival.”
“Why would you make wire-framed dresses?”
“I went through a rebellious phase,” I explained. “I thought I could bring couture to Nashville. FYI, I didn’t.”
“Oh, do you want to be a fashion designer?”
“No, a therapist.”
“Which also makes sense,” Quin said considering it.
I stared at him speechless. I didn’t know if he was being funny on purpose or not, but the guy was hilarious. I really liked him.
“So, did you want my help creating your masterpiece?”
“You don’t know how much. And just so you know, a masterpiece would be great. But I’m aiming for not humiliating myself.”
“Well, you’ll be dressed as a moonshine jug at a small-town festival. So, Quin, that ship has sailed,” I said sympathetically.
It was Quin’s turn to laugh.
With a project to take my mind off of Nero and whether I would join him this weekend, I led Quin out of the bookstore. Since neither of us had cars, we walked to the nearest art supply store. Picking up framing wire, reams of cloth, paint, and sewing supplies, we took a rideshare back to his dorm.
The guy didn’t live like the rest of us. He lived in the building jokingly referred to as Beverly Hills. Spreading everything out in his living room, I showed him a few pictures of what I was thinking of and got to work. It was fun. And it turned out to be a great way to pick his brain about Nero.
“So, what did you mean when you said that Nero was the only one who gave you and Cage a hard time?”
