Best of my Love

Chapter Thirteen

When we pulled into the parking lot, we were singing Heartbreaker Hotel with the windows down and the volume jacked. We laughed and rolled the windows up as the DJ came on saying someone requested a Linda Ronstadt song. 

Linda quickly turned the radio down and the car off. 

"No more." She said in almost a whisper, looking at me with wide eyes that jokingly said no.

I rolled my eyes and laughed again and got out of the car. 

As we stepped on the concrete to the shop door, two people stopped Linda and said hello. One got an autograph and the other said that she was the prettiest woman he had ever seen. 

We finally got in the store and I said, "You must get tired of that."

"Sometimes." She shrugged. "But I'm in a good mood right now. It's only making me happier."

We walked to the back of the store where the jeans were and she started to look through them. At first I copied what she was doing, but I soon stopped and turned to her. 

"You're gonna have to help me, Linda, 'cause I have no idea what I'm doing."

She stared at me for a moment. 

"You've never gone shopping?" She asked. 

"I've never had to. I always wore my older sister's shit, and these are the only clothes I really own." I pulled at the bleach-stained tank top and the flannel Don gave me. 

"I understand." She said, walking closer to me and looking through the jeans. "When I first moved here from Tucson, I had only worn clothes my mama had made for either me or my older sister. Sometimes even her old clothes. I still have a skirt she would wear horse back riding with my father when they dated." She pulled out a pair of jeans for me to see. 

I didn't respond. I stared at them for a moment before huffing, "Linda, what am I suppose to be looking at?"

"Okay," she smiled, probably getting annoyed. "What size are you?"

I thought for a moment before she said, "You don't know, do you?"

"No, I'm sorry."

She looked around for a moment before saying, "I'm gonna look, okay."

I nodded, pretending to look through the jeans as she quickly checked the tag on my pants. 

"Damn, size ten." She chuckled, patting my hips before grabbing my hand and pulling me over to the other side of the rack. "My mama use to say they're breedin' hips."

I chuckled, repeating to myself, "breeding hips."

"What size are you, then?" I asked, not that it would make sense to me.

"A three." She replied. "But I wear my pants over my hips unlike you, so I'd say about a four or five."

I smiled, shaking my head as she looked through the jeans. 

"Mine are big on me. Can't we try somethin' a bit smaller and work our way up?" I asked. 

She nodded, replying, "Sure, let's give that a try."

We found a few pairs of pants each in a size from six to ten I liked and we went to the fitting rooms. 

"I've also got some stuff you may like at me and J.D.'s place, Chris." She said, handing me the size 8s.

I slid them on as I responded, "Yeah that sounds great." I turned in the mirror and looked at the back of them. 

"You like 'em?"