Page 30 of Half Notes and Highlights
“Let’s just say he was totally intimidated by me, and although I was perfectly cordial, he was a bitch with a capital “B”. Then I overheard him telling Ethan I was extra, and he had the nerve to make fun of my leather pants. Can you imagine anyone making fun of these?” He jutted his hip in Iris’ direction. “Feel.”
She tentatively reached out, a quirky smile on her lips, but once she felt the supple softness of the custom-made leather, all her shyness disappeared, and she caressed his outer thigh. “Nice!”
“I’m not even going to get into the workmanship of them. They’re exquisite. I don’t know what his problem is.”
“I need details. What did he say, and what did you say? And what did Ethan say?”
While Iris ate up the juicy word-for-word reenactment, Tyler began to wonder about his choice of leather in the hot West Coast sun. “I know I stand out. That’s exactly what I’m aiming for when I get dressed, but are my leather pants out of place in California? I’ve been wearing them for years. Not the same pair. I have over a dozen pairs that cost a small fortune.” If he wasn’t going to wear leather pants, he had no idea what he was going to wear. Jeans? He practically gasped at the idea.
“They look great on you, Tyler. I can’t deny that. But they’re a little out of place in 85-degree LA heat. In a club they’d fit in, though.”
Tyler wasn’t worried about fitting in. He didn’t care what people thought. He never did. Even as a little boy, he wore some pretty outlandish outfits to school. His parents were open-minded and embraced his uniqueness, so he was free to be whoever he wanted to be. They couldn’t contain him if they tried. But he didn’t want to look like a tourist either. California was his home now, and he needed to dress according to the climate, which was very different from New York. He looked at Iris and the people walking up and down the street below. Almost everyone was wearing shorts and flip-flops. The footwear was a hard no, but shorts—thathe could pull off. “We’re going shopping.”
A few hours later, they returned with three shopping bags full of clothes. Melrose Avenue had everything he could ever want.
As he dumped everything out on the bed, Iris sifted through his purchases. “Some of this stuff is great. Like these.” She held up a pair of leopard print short shorts. “I’d make a fortune in tips if I wore these. But I’m not as daring as you.”
“Why not? You’d look fab in any of this stuff.”
She made a face that asked if he were crazy and held up a strappy leather crop top from his purchases. “Even you are going to be pushing boundaries wearing this.”
He grinned. “I love to push boundaries.”
“I’m learning that.”
He pulled a pair of jeans from the pile and inspected them. “I can’t remember the last time I wore jeans.”
“They’re going to be a lot more comfortable. You’ll see.”
He decided to try them on again and quickly started to undo the laces on his leather pants.
“Hey!” Iris shielded her eyes and turned around.
“It’s OK. I’m wearing a thong.”
She sputtered a small laugh but didn’t turn around until Tyler told her it was safe. “They look good on you.”
He studied himself in the full-length mirror. The jeans were tight and hugged every inch of him, and there was give in the denim and they flexed with his body as he did a few squats to test their elasticity. And he was able to find them in several fun colors. It was a nice change from the leather he always wore. He pulled the zipper up and down like a new toy and laughed aloud. No more lacing and unlacing whenever he needed to use the can! “I think I’m gonna like wearing these.”
Iris sighed and picked up her handbag. “I had fun today, but now I have to go to work. If you’re up to it later, stop by the bar for a drink.”
“I’m exhausted. I just want to soak in a hot bath, but I’ll see how I feel. My feet are killing me.”
“You’re wearing boots, Tyler. You didn’t buy any footwear. You need tennis shoes.”
“I don’t play tennis,” he chided, knowing that she was referring to sneakers—which he never wore—and he wasn’t buying flip-flops. Sorry, he wasn’t a foot person and preferred his to be covered.
“Enjoy your bath,” Iris called as she left Tyler’s apartment.
He stared down at all his new purchases with renewed energy. Maybe he would go out for a few drinks after all, but once hesettled into the deep soaking tub, surrounded by tons of bubbles and the fragrant lavender-scented candles, he didn’t want to move. Eventually, his fingers got all pruney, his neck started to cramp, and the clip pinning his hair on top of his head felt like a vice.
Once he dried off, he wrapped himself in his robe and fuzzy slippers. The robe was nothing like the giant marshmallow cloud that the hotel in Portland provided, and he reminisced about the luxurious amenities and perks of dating a rock star.
After making a cup of hot cocoa—because he didn’t care that it was 78 degrees outside, cocoa was his jam—he sat in front of the TV and started flipping through the channels. He was about to switch to Netflix when a picture of Wolf Pack appeared on the screen. It was a late-night entertainment news show, and they put together a compilation of the highlights of tonight’s concert in Denver.
The video opened with a broad view of the stage and the first 10 or so rows of the audience, all cheering like crazy, then the camera zoomed in on Ethan. Both hands clutched the mic at his lips, his chin jutted toward the ceiling, and his eyes were focused somewhere up above. His skin glistened under the heat of the lights which enveloped him in a hazy fog. His black hair and even blacker eyes accentuated that strong, square jaw of his and those flawless cheekbones.
Tyler’s blood raced more and more as each second passed. He leaned forward on the edge of the couch cushion, clutching his cup, while he watched this charismatic and talented man sing.
