We ran into practically everyone the girls knew it seemed since we were constantly stopped in shops and on the boardwalk. There were a lot of introductions and gabbing. I was a curiosity since some had heard of me already and it was evident Max was a popular person and anyone associated with him was automatically an object of fascination most especially an outsider with an English accent. Others, Becca and Mindy freely told, “Nina’s with Max” which then made me an object of fascination.
After the curiosity about me wore off, most of the talk was about Curtis Dodd and who might have done the deed. Most of this was liberally interspersed with open comments about how no one was really going to miss him. Some of it was catty talk about Shauna who, it was evident, was not a popular person. There were a lot of careful looks at Mindy who seemed to have trouble dealing with these indicated by the pink that would tinge her cheeks. When that happened either Becca or I would get close. Sometimes, if Mindy started shuffling her feet or chewing at her cuticles, I’d grab her hand. When I did this she held on tight and I’d feel the sting of tears behind my eyes but I just held her right back.
We walked by a photography shop that printed digital photos and I asked the girls if we could go in because I was dying to see the photo Cotton took printed out rather than small on the screen at the back of the camera. When we entered it appeared to be a Shrine to Jimmy Cotton, the walls were wallpapered with his pictures. We hung out while the photos were printing halfheartedly looking at photography stuff we had no interest in. When they were done, I paid for the photos and we stood a few feet from the counter looking through them.
I came upon Cotton’s photo and stared, stunned at what the man could do with a digital camera. The framing was magnificent, he managed to make the bluff, river and mountains most of the photo, Max and me at the side.
But regardless of the beauty of the vista, it was Max and me that took my full attention.
Not surprisingly, Max was incredibly photogenic, smiling natural and casual into the camera.
Surprisingly, even with his supreme male beauty, I looked natural and casual, smiling at his side. My cream cap, blonde hair and pale, wind-kissed skin was an attractive foil to his dark handsomeness. I liked the look of us together, maybe a bit too much.
And we didn’t look like we’d just met and barely knew each other. We looked like we’d known each other forever, comfortable in our close hold.
We looked even like we belonged together.
I hadn’t realized I’d put my hand to his stomach, my arm around his back and I noticed that I fitted into his side like God created me specifically to slot right there. And his hand curled at my neck, gloved fingers barely visible through the strands of my hair, had the weird look like he was claiming me. I was, just simply, his.
“I freaking love that picture!” Mindy cried, standing close, staring at the photo and Becca got close too.
“Wow, awesome shot,” she breathed. “Max is hot and you’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
I started, tore my eyes from the photo and looked at Becca. “I’m sorry?”
Becca’s gaze came to my face. “Prettiest eyes, Max said it too.”
I blinked and felt my eyebrows go up just as I felt a pleasant warmth wash through me.
“I’m sorry?” I repeated.
“Max said you’ve got the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen.”
Oh my God.
“He said that?” I whispered and Becca grinned.
“Yeah, the other day, when, um…” Her gaze slid to Mindy who was listening then came back to me. “He said it the other day when we were talkin’ ‘bout you. He said you were cute when you were pissed and you’ve got the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen.”
Oh. My. God.
I looked back to the photo and examined, for the first time in my life with any great attention, my eyes. You couldn’t see it really in the photo but I knew they were deep set and hazel, more brown than green. I’d never thought much of them except wishing they were bigger, wider so I could use more flair with eye shadow and, even focusing on them, I didn’t think much of them now.
“You do have really pretty eyes,” Mindy said to me softly. “I noticed them right off the bat.”
“I… they’re… um…” I stammered.
“Really unusual, striking, eye-catching, no pun intended,” Becca said on a grin.
“Can I have a copy of that photo?” Mindy asked, still speaking softly and I looked closely at her.
She was gazing at the photo and her face was soft like her voice.
“Sure, darling,” I said softly back and her eyes skittered to me.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
I walked to the counter, handed my memory card to the clerk as well as the photo and asked for another copy.
Then I turned to Mindy and told her, “Best part about it, outside the view, is that Jimmy Cotton took it.”
“Jimmy Cotton does not take snapshots,” the clerk said to me, his voice filled with unmistakable outrage.
I turned back to him, surprised at his entry into our conversation and the tone of it, and asked, “I’m sorry?”
“Jimmy Cotton…” he waved my photo at me, “does not take snapshots.” He indicated the walls of his shop with a wave of his hand. “He’s a master.”