“Look,” Livy said, in her signature bossy voice. “Don’t make your decision right now. Just take a couple weeks and think about it.Please.”
I would have killed to go, but there was no way in heck I could risk it. Even still, I could read the writing on her forehead in all caps:I will not stop bugging you until you say yes.“I’ll think about it,” I said. “But please do not count on me.”
“You’d be making a giant mistake. The festival is gonna set your soul free. And that’sexactlywhat you need.” She pressed her lips together and gave me an oversize shrug.
Anger flared.How do you know what I need, Livy Foster? And what the hell gives you the right to decide it for me?“I can make my own decisions about my life, thank you.” I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest.
Livy shut her eyes for an extra-long moment, then dived down to her Coke for a sip. With lips inches from the straw, she looked me square in the eye. “I bet Ronny would give anything to be there. If nothing else, you should go for his sake.”
Goldsmith’s Department Store
Memphis, Tennessee
Monday, August 11, 1969
Two weeks went by without so much as a phone call.
I was sure Livy would be on me like a rat on a Cheeto, persuading me to go to Woodstock. Boy was I wrong. Not only was there no persuading, but there was no Livy.
The loss of her a second time made me want to break down and weep. Having her back had been like finding that special something you thought you’d lost forever. We’d picked up right where we left off, as if a single day hadn’t passed without best friendship.
It must have been my comment about making my own decisions, but considering we’d just reconnected after three years, you’d think she would have at least called to see how I was doing. Sure, I could have called her, but it was a matter of principle.Shewalked out onmein the first place. And that comment about going to Woodstock for Ron’s sake? What a low blow.
That was Livy. She could be ruthless if it meant getting her own way.
The whole way to work, I kept thinking about it. My big regret in our short-lived reacquaintance was not finding out why she had lied about giving Marianne Gentry my Beatles ticket and going AWOL the first time.
For the past two weeks, I’d been obsessing over that backstabber, wondering if she and Livy were still friends.
All those years ago Livy had told me what Marianne said behind my back, and her words still echoed as loudly today as they had three years ago. “She said you were the one that told everyone I went all the way with John Dearing.” What a lie. Marianne was the one who had said it. I’d have never betrayed Livy like that. Never in a million years.
Yet she had betrayed me.
I spent the first fifteen minutes of my workday tidying up the stockroom. When I made it out to the floor, Gertie glanced up from counting money in the register. Using her left palm as a shield while pointing her right index finger to the far end of the department, she softly singsonged, “You havecom-pany.”
Well, what do you know? There stood Livy, studying a display of expensive lacy silk panties.
“Hi, Livy!” I called from the counter, my insides vibrating with relief.
She turned around with an excited glow. “Morning. I need some new lingerie.” With hands on her hips, she walked toward the register. “The sexier the better.”
“Oh my,” Gertie whispered, pressing a hand to her neck, then pointed to the wall display behind the counter. “Why don’t you try the Sea Dream Collection. It’s Maidenform.”
Livy glanced at the display. “I don’t think so, but thank you anyway.” She then roamed around the department, stopping to finger every pure-silk garment she could spy. At the sight of the ChristianDior display, she sucked in a breath, then held up a dainty pair of lace panties. “Nowthisis what I callsexy.”
“Mightypri-cey,” Gertie singsonged under her breath. “May we interest you in a Dior brassiere to go with it?”
“No ma’am. Not today.” Livy grabbed three pairs of pastel-colored panties before her eye caught on something sexier. “Ooh la la, I love this baby doll nightie.” She pulled it from the rack, waving me over. “Help me decide.”
She headed straight for the largest dressing room, which was at the end of the hall. Once we were inside, she snapped the curtains shut. In seconds flat she had stripped down naked. The yellow panties were at her knees before I could stop her.
“Wait. You can’t try them on without these.” I handed her a pair of disposable paper panties from a stack on the table next to a bench.
Outraged, she snatched the paper panties from my hand, like I had asked her to clean my toilet. “How am I supposed to know how I look wearing these awful things?”
“Just do it. It’s the rule.”
“You’re such a rule follower these days.”
