Page 80 of A Dead Man's B-Side
Wolf was smart enough to take on the role of allocating riding groups, keeping Rain and Marigold separate, and Ajax and Paris separate.
Wolf, Rain, and Ajax took one car, while Paris, August, Marigold, and I took the other.
I sat next to the stoic and silent driver, as there were only three seats in the back, and I was the one who’d take up the most space.
The drive felt long in the pitch-black countryside of Scotland, the only saving grace being the headlights indicating that we were still on the road.
I made a point not to let my mind wander in the environment that was made for just that. Instead, I began recalling all of my notes, making a mental web of every subject.
Slowly, the sharp shadows of the deciduous trees turned into quiet fields with a dot of light coming from a farm, and then a few homes. The road opened wide, and buildings began to appear more frequently.
I could spot the life of the old city up ahead as we drifted farther away from the dead and vacant region of Scotland.
When we’d finally arrived in front of the restaurant, the ambiance outside the car was one that promised vibrance and a good time. Edinburgh might be gloomy in a deeply philosophical manner, if I did say so myself, but the street The Gallery was situated on was a lively one. Stepping out, I looked down both sides of the road until I spotted Rain walking towards us.
The trench coat she’d worn flowed in the slight, chilly breeze, and I noticed people watching as her heels, hidden under her pantsuit, clicked against the damp sidewalk in clipped authority. She reached our party and straightened her jacket. “I’ll go confirm our reservation. Whoever needs to get something done, do so now. We won’t be waiting for you afterwards.”
Ajax caught my eye and raised his brows a pulse.
As we’d huddled in a circle near the curb, Paris, who’d been sending coy looks at a group of young men across the street, spoke up, “I need to go restock on some hairspray.”
Her fresh blowout lifted with her shoulders, hidden under the thick fur coat that somehow didn’t swallow her form, against the wind. “Who wants to come with?”
I spoke before Ajax could send me another indiscreet look. “I’ll go.”
“If that’s all, let’s go inside. I’m freezing,” August said through chattering teeth, despite his jacket looking strong enough against the chill.
Paris tutted as she walked away, indicating for me to follow. “No meat in those bones, the poor boy.”
I fell a step behind her as we walked, hoping to avoid a conversation as she led us both into a small shop down a few blocks, nestled between two larger stores. From the outside looking in, it didn’t look like much. Small and desolate. The old sign hanging above was covered in muck, making it almost impossible to read ‘Finlay’s Corner Shop’.
The bell above jingled as we entered, and if it didn’t, Paris’s heeled boots certainly indicated new customers as she walked with confidence to the aisle she was looking for, clearly having been here before.
I never really had a fully formed opinion on her, mostly because of her aloof nature. One day she was sour, and another she was on the whimsical side. It wasn’t something that made her unapproachable or disliked; I just preferred going into things prepared, and I never did know what to expect with someone like Paris.
I followed her to the back of the store, vacant from the hour, and waiting as she held up two different hairsprays, pondering over them for far too long. A second longer, and I stepped forward to grab both out of her hands. “Which of these do you usually get?”
Paris looked up at me with a smile still set on her perfectly symmetrical face before pointing to the red bottle in my right hand. “That one.”
I nodded. “Then that’s the one we’ll get.”
She hummed and placed her manicured finger on her chin, tapping against it. I paused at her motion and waited for what she might be thinking of. “I’ll take the other.”
She plucked the red bottle out of my hands and placed it back on the shelf. I didn’t bother getting exasperated and only shook my head before turning. “Alright, let’s go.”
“Wait!”
I turned back to her, and she shook her head at me as if I were forgetting the most important thing. “What about what you wanted to buy?”
I watched her back as if I were doing the most obvious thing. “We’re going to get it right now.”
“Oh!” She smiled, waving her hand out and wiggling her fingers in front of us. “Well then, lead the way.”
We walked from aisle to aisle, somewhere along the way I lost Paris to hair curlers, until I found what I was looking for. I didn’t bother lingering, picking up the first brown box I’d found.
“Mmm, Clairol. That's a good option.” Paris’ voice sounded from over my shoulder, and I turned to face her, having already sensed her approach seven clicks of her heels ago.
She looked up at me with a pleased smile before, for reasons beyond my comprehension, reached up to pat my cheek and continued the journey to the front counter. “Come along, Alexandr.”
