April - A Modern Hypatia?

Chapter Two - Intimates

Theme: Secret by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark

Soma and Vans were pretty fun stores to shop in. It was part of the job, I suppose. Lexia could get by without buying new clothes, because as Jazz so gleefully pointed out, she was hardly ever in them. Terri less so, but she liked all that sheer lacey stuff that was still being too risqué for my speed. Skintight spandex bodysuit, nylon thigh highs, and a pair of high-tops that made me look chicer than Tifa Lockhart. That was my angle.

Since I didn't have a car, a bike, or enough courage to take public transportation without contracting several different illnesses, I looked to my only saving grace in Hellsworth. The only way to get to the Wrentham Village Outlets was by car, and the only person I knew I could trust with such an errand was Jay F. McPherson. The tousle-haired, off-roading, electrical engineering major of Nordic looks and the closet of a member of Spandau Ballet, Jay also had one other play to make. He had a decked-out Toyota 4Runner, and had literally no clue of my part-time profession.

It was wholly incredible – and I thought about this on my way out of the door of my high school gymnasium-styled apartment – that people knew so much. Not having told any people purposefully, nor having run across many besides the bottom of the barrel at the club, I had somehow still managed to become the school pin-up. They might as well have named a bomber after me (the B-29 was my personal choice) because my likeness graced likely over thirty percent of male dormitories on campus. Once one guy happened across the glamour photography shoot I'd done when strapped for cash and curious about modelling, they all suddenly had wall-to-wall posters of me in my trademark garb.

Except Jay, he never got that memo.

The morning outside was brisk and misty. I loved mornings like that, even in the winter, when the mist started to become frost and exhaled breath seemed to drift into the surmounting sun. Jay was across the way, doing his typical preflight inspection of the grey off-roading machine as I approached. The thing was a gunmetal pearl color, perpetually cloaked in grit and mud despite Jay's weekly washing of it. In such a crappy location, his use of the outdoor spigot caused several apartments to experience a loss in water pressure, clear indication of who was outside.

"Morning, McPherson," I called, as I approached the truck from behind. "Could you do a favor?"

Springing up from the hood, Jay painted a smile on his face. "'Course, where do you need to go this time?"

"The Outlets."

He tried to mask his anticipation of this; given my neurotic pursuit of style, I ventured up to the premium outlets at least twice a month. If I was smart, I'd put it on a tab for Jazz to pay off as a work expense.

"Well, I can take you up there. But I need to get back here around Noon." Jay slammed the hood and made to climb into the cabin. "You going to get in?"
"Sure, sure." I didn't think he'd spring into action like that. What was this, a four-alarm fashion emergency?

So in any case, that's how I found myself in the Vans store, with Jay asking me why I was so obsessed with sneakers like that. He must've noticed that I wore New Balance slip-ons out and about, or something.

"Super gummy natural rubber soles?" He thought aloud, surveying a pair I was holding. "Why does that matter? You didn't pick up skateboarding as a hobby, did you?"

"Are you kidding?!" I laughed the comment off, even as I examined another variety of lace-up high tops. "I'd break my neck on one of those things – on flat ground!" It was true; I could handle a board fine when it was in the snow, but I freaked when there was pavement involved.