During that summer, once Simi had discovered her new, exciting feelings for Curtis, she looked for every opportunity to be near his parents' store—all in the hope that she would see him again working inside. When she quickly figured out that he was there on Mondays and Wednesdays in the evenings, she made it a point to enter the store on those days and muster her courage to chat with him. For Curtis, after being embarrassed by admitting to her earlier on the phone that he "thought about her sometimes,' he was even more self-conscious around her  once he realized she seemed to have an idea what he was thinking. 

He was also a bit edgy by the quirkiness of this young girl who was both visually and behaviorally different than all the other residents of Madrid. Nevertheless, there was still something about the way she filled out her clothing and spoke in her bold manner that he found alluring.

            When she would enter the market on those early days of summer their awkward conversations were usually further hampered by the current spike in business. This influx of tourists had occurred each vacation season when people from California and Arizona headed out across the Southwest with their families to visit the attractions at Taos and nearby Santa Fe. Some would even drive on further toward the Midwest and Eastern states.

            "So how's the work going, tonight, Curtis," Simi asked him on one of those first Monday meetings. She said this standing near the register when there was a sudden lull in customers.

            "Well, I wish I could say it was slow," Curtis replied, smiling and and wiping off the counter. He took a furtive look at the way her top and pants clung to her body.

            Simi was in her usual attire—all black, from her boots to her feathered earrings, which she had bought from the little "Indian" gift shop across the street. That boutique still made them just as her great grandmother Theresa and her friends had done two generations earlier in Madrid's hippy heyday. It was the only black pair of feathers with clasps in the shop, and Simi now treasured them, right along with her inseparable black onyx moon necklace. 

            "So hey Simi. You look . . . kind of mysterious tonight," Curtis said while bagging up a single customer's items. Simi stood nearby and waited for the man to exit, obviously a tourist and father from the type of things he had bought. His departure created a rare moment in the now empty store.

            "I got some new music I downloaded yesterday . . . you might like it," she told him, trying to look into his eyes. She then reached into her pocket and produced a USB. "Here. . . put it in your laptop later. It's a group called 'Prince of Hell.' You'll really like the tunes I think."

            Curtis reached over and took the USB from her. He shyly turned it over in his hand a few times mindlessly. "Thanks! That's very cool, Simi. I'll check it out when I get home tonight."

            Just then the door to the market opened to the familiar and annoying sound of a collection of small bells tied to it. They rang out every time someone entered the store. Both Curtis and Simi looked over to see who it was.

            Curtis's father, whom Simi had always seen working in the store entered and walked up to them.

            "Hello young lady," he said to her bluntly. You're the daughter of Luis and Gabriella . . . aren't you?"

            She nodded her head. "That's right."

            "They're fine folks, your parents. Good customers."

            Simi did not say more.

            "So . . . Curt? How's the night going?" his father asked. "It was busier than the Dickens earlier today. But I see it's slowed down quite a bit."

            Curtis began wiping the counter again, a little nervously. "Yeah  Dad, just now. It was petty really crazy since I came on at five."

            "OK. But I hope you're not gonna spend all night . . . talking here when the tourists come rolling back in . . . after dinner."

            Curtis looked up quickly at Simi. "No, Dad. Simi just now came in. You know . . . she'll be over at the high school this year in August."

            "No kidding? The time. I can't believe it, kids. It flies."

        Cutis' father began straightening out the pile of plastic bags near Curtis' cash register. "I remember this little girl . . . and her little black dog. . . when they were both just babies."

            Curtis smiled and tried to get Simi to do the same at the comment. Her usual coolness and continued silence did not speak well of her to his father."

            "Well, Curt . . . just don't . . . waste too much time gabbing here. There's some stock in the back that needs to be put up."

            "Yeah dad . . . that'll get done tonight."

            "Well not if it gets busy again, son."

        The man looked judgmentally at Simi. His stare seemed to be purveying her choice of clothes and style. He then turned, a little angrily and walked for the door, triggering the harsh ring of the bells as it closed behind him.

            "Your dad seems kind a strict," Simi said, critically.

            "Naw . . . he's just always watching out for our business."

            "So . . . do you want me to leave then?"

            "No way! Are you kidding? The company's nice in here."

            "Well I just thought . . ."

            "Come on. Stay and talk to me. I like it that you're here, Simi. This place gets really boring. You can't imagine how it is all evening."

            "I think I can," she said leaning sensually up against the checkout stand.

            "Stupid tourists . . . and their idiot questions . . . And every damn Madrid old-timer expecting that I know exactly what they want. I'm not kidding. This place can be hell in the summer."

            She smiled at his show of futile consternation. "Yeah. I can see it can."

            Simi looked up at him. Directly at his face. "I'm working on this drawing of you right now. At home."

            "Seriously? Me?"

            "Yup. I've got you riding on the back of a dragon. A really cool one! With huge black wings."

            "That's  . . . awesome. You gonna show it to me sometime?

            "Well yeah. . . when it's done, I guess. But . . . I can't get your face right, exactly."

            "Hm. Yeah that must be difficult." He smiled.

            "Guess I just need . . . to look at you more, that's all."

            Curtis quickly looked away from her. He was not ready for such a direct comment."

            She leaned closer over the counter toward him. "So . . . do you have a picture of you. . . one that I can have, that is? Guess you already know I don't have that cell phone yet to take one of you."

        "Naw, Simi . . ." Curtis shook his head. "I don't have any pics of me. So why don't you just draw me without a face?"

            She laughed. It was a delicious and melodic laugh.

            "Why, silly? I like your face."

            "OK." He still refrained from looking at her.

            "Sometimes I try to imagine it, though . . . your face. Like when I'm in my room. And then, just when I think I can remember all the details . . . they fade out!"

        Curtis finally looked at her and smiled.

        "You're pretty crazy. You know that?"      

        "I know . . . but I guess that's why I'm here. To take a mental picture of you."

        "OK then. But look . . .don't let my face mess up your picture."

        "Come on. It won't."

        Simi laughed her delicious laugh again and Curtis began straightening the same bags his father had piled into a stack.

        "So . . ." she said, gathering her courage and looking at him directly. She tried to catch his eyes with hers when she spoke. "You had any more of those  . . . thoughts about me? I mean . . . lately?"

            "What?  . . .Well . . ." Curtis stopped speaking.

            "It's OK. I mean you don't have to answer. Because I know when you do."

            "Hey! How can you be so sure about that?" He was looking at her again, inquisitively.

            "I just am, that's all. Last night. About eleven thirty. You were in the shower. I could see your thoughts."

            Curtis was frozen. Only is eyes moved. They blinked twice.

        "But Simi. . . maybe you don't. . .maybe you really can't. . . "

        "No I really do. I really can. And yes . . . I was kinda shocked.

        He looked away again.

         "But you're a boy and it's alright I guess."

        Curtis kept his head turned away.

        "I kinda like . . . being there," she said softly. "In your mind that is."

        "OK . . . but. . ."

        Just then the bell rang again. It was a whole family of what looked like tourists. The younger ones, a pair of boys, ran out in front of the parents and nearly knocked over a table with loaves of bread on it. The mother ran after them, crashing herself into stand with sunglasses. It almost tipped over while she tried to hold onto the youngest child who looked to be eight or nine.

         "Can I help you folks?" Curtis asked suddenly in a loud voice.

        "Suntan lotion and hotdog buns!"  the father called out from the back of the store.

        "So . . . guess I'll see you on Wednesday," Simi whispered. "I'm gonna go work on my dragon tonight. And the guy whose flying him."

        Curtis smiled in a resigned way.

        "I think I got that face right for now," she said.

        "OK, Simi. So yeah . . . I better get back to work."

        He headed off in the direction of the impatient father's voice.

        "Have a great night," he called back ". . . With your art, I mean."

        "And you. . . with your thoughts, Curtis."

       The familiar chime of the little bells rang out into the street as Simi closed the heavy door behind her. 

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