Shades of Doon by Carey Corp

Author:Carey Corp
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook
Publisher: Blink
Published: 2015-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Mackenna

The comforting thing about malls is that they’re basically the same from one end of the country to the other: same stores, same food, same roving groups of families, same loiterers, the same kids and hipsters. A city of strangers — some come to work, some to play. Sure, a variance existed here or there just to keep things interesting, a unique attraction or a shop with local flair, but all in all there was a sameness. The mall was a slice of home.

And that uniformity, while soothing, was the reason I got bored so quickly. Though Vee could go from store to store, comparing items and sale prices, I was good for two or three stores tops. After that, I tended to sprawl in a chair near the changing rooms and serenade the people trying things on while my bestie shopped for the both of us.

I wasn’t sure what to expect with Duncan. Yes, the mall was a new experience for him, but what kind of mall guy was he? His brother was easy to figure; all googly eyed with wonder, he would go into each and every store to check out the wares, even the ones that Vee probably preferred he didn’t.

But Duncan . . . He’d been surprisingly without opinion since we changed our plans. Even now, he was waiting for me to respond as to what I wanted to do. Instead, I said, “I’m on to you, buster.”

His brow creased in genuine confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The way you keep deferring to Jamie. I know it’s his first real trip here, but it’s kind of yours too. So cut the chivalry act and tell me what you want to do.”

He frowned at me, looking vaguely uncomfortable with my demand. “Seriously,” I added. “We’re not moving from this spot until you answer me. There must be a few things that you’d like to do.”

After a moment he said, “Aye. There might be a couple of things.”

“What’s the first one?”

“I rather fancied the look of those tartan trousers in the shop we passed,” he replied in all sincerity.

My lips started to twitch and I resisted the urge to smirk. Of all the things in the modern world to experience . . . “Tartan trousers?”

“Aye.”

Gershwin love him, if the boy wanted plaid pants, then I vowed to be okay with it. “Show me.”

We backtracked to a dimly lit store, with pounding music that had been a staple in my Goth phase. He pointed to a mannequin just inside the entry next to the life-sized Supernatural cutouts. “Those’re the ones.”

I helped him find a pair in roughly his size. While Duncan went to try them on, visions of Brigadoon, dancing men in plaid pants leaping around Gene Kelly and Cyd Cherise, occupied my head. Repeating the mantra I will not laugh, I will not laugh, I will not laugh, as I waited. I did my best to vanquish the mental image of twirling Scotsmen.

When Duncan stepped out of the dressing room, however, it was no laughing matter.

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