by C. A. Harms
“Old? Please, Ms. Walters, you don’t look a day over forty.” The woman is frail, rounding ninety, but still has a thick head of hair. She came in with gray locks matted and twisted upon her head and told me to make her feel beautiful. I’ll admit I was nervous…hell, I was terrified, so fearful that whatever I did it wouldn’t be what she envisioned. But from the second she sat down in the chair before me and started talking about her life, family, and friends, I fell into a comfortable awe. She is amazing, the light in her eyes, the smile on her face, so genuine and mesmerizing.
Now the once gray-haired woman sitting in the chair staring at her caramel brown hair that is curled and styled is smiling bigger than I thought possible. Her eyes shine with a happiness that makes my chest ache. I did that; I gave her that.
“Sweetheart, you are very kind.” She reaches her shaking hand up and places it on my own that rests upon her shoulder.
Suddenly her daughter appears at her side, and she too smiles wide as she leans in to hug her mother. “You look beautiful, Mama.” I blink, trying to hide the tears that are forming in my eyes.
They admire for a little longer before paying and leaving me with a very generous tip. Ms. Walters, of course, gives me a hug and thanks me several more times before stepping outside the salon.
My body jerks in surprise when Aunt Lottie throws her arm over my shoulder and leans her head closer to mine. “You did good.” She is all white teeth from the huge smile on her face. “All the times I have done Helen’s hair and not once did she leave here feeling like she was on top of the world like she did today.”
“She is amazing.” How spending a few hours with someone could change your outlook is still shocking to me, but that is exactly what happened. She told me stories of how she met her husband, the way he tormented her for months before she finally gave in and went on a date with him. That single date changed her life, she said. He was and had remained for years her best friend. The thought of that is inspiring, how two people could be so in love and through that love create two daughters who both went on to become successful, happy women.
“She has been coming here once a month for over five years. Her daughter brings her. Ever since Henry passed, she’s lost that spark, but today, after what you gave her, I saw that woman once again.”
A deep inhale and a slow release does very little to control the emotions running throughout my body.
“Thank you for this,” I whisper, refraining from looking at her, knowing it will probably force me to tears.
“For what?”
“For this experience, for hiring me.”
She hugs me just a little tighter, pulling my body in toward hers. “From the moment you announced your plans to enroll in beautician school, I told your mother I’d have you here.” Aunt Lottie is unmarried; she has never had the intention of doing so, either. She prefers her freedom, and though she dates, she maintains that independence; it’s just who she is. “After I retire, I’ll need someone I trust to carry on Lottie’s.” Quickly I shift my surprised gaze to meet hers, and she laughs. “Who better to do so than family?” With that, she leans in, kisses my cheek, and spins around, leaving me staring after her in shock.
She had to be kidding, right?
***
“This blue one.” I look over my shoulder to find my mother only a few feet away holding up a summer dress. It is so long I’m sure it will drag the ground, and the top is short sleeved. Even the neckline is high and tight.
“It’s nice.”
“It would look so pretty with your eyes.” Moving in closer, she holds it up against me, and I look over to find my sister Jackie covering her mouth to hide her smile.
I honestly thought she was saying she liked it for herself.
“A long necklace, maybe a cute pair of sandals.”
I see movement from my left and glance in that direction just as Janie comes back from the dressing room. She glances between me and my mother before shifting toward the dress still held before me, and I see the very second her opinion is formed. I also know that whatever it is rolling around in her mind, she isn’t keeping it to herself; it’s not in her nature.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Her nose wrinkles. “That is hideous.”
Our mother’s mouth falls open, and she humphs, looking at my younger sister. “Not everyone dresses like a twelve-year-old girl.”
Janie holds up a pair of booty shorts and a tiny shirt that looks like a belly shirt. She twists it from side to side and then in her other hand extends a bathing suit I am sure covers very little before she looks up at our mom. “If a twelve year old is walking around dressed in things like these, her parents need to pay more attention. What kind of parent lets their child leave the house wearing stuff like these?”
I watch in amazement as my mother and Janie go back and forth. It is always the same, our mother trying to teach us how to be reserved and us showing her that we are a lost cause. So easily we are able to get her panties tied in a knot.
“Why must you feel the need to show off so much skin?”
“Because I’m not a nun.” Janie moves toward the rack and begins to remove one short and tight thing after another, just to get my mom more wound up. “I have a cute butt, my boobs are one of my best assets, and that thing people say about if you have it—” She doesn’t finish.
“You do not have to flaunt it. You need to create a little bit of mystery. My goodness, Janie, if a man knows and can see all you have to offer, where does that leave you?”
“Very sated and satisfied.” She even sighs for an added bonus.
“Where did I go wrong?” I almost laugh when our mother widens her eyes and shakes her head in disbelief.
“From the looks of us three, I would say you and Daddy did a pretty bang-up job, Mama. We are hot.” Janie shrugs, and Mom throws her hands up in the air, walking away mumbling something that sounds like going to church.
By now she knows that arguing with the youngest of the Pearson sisters is a dead end road. Janie never gives up, never gives in, and will always battle it out until her last breath. She is difficult, strong willed, and I love every minute of it.
A flash of her in the face of my devilish neighbor fills my mind. The way he watched her, a slow smile forming on his lips, drunk obviously, though still carrying a cocky demeanor. I don’t know why the idea of him being interested in my sister infuriates me so much.
Chapter Nine
Shane
“This is nice, man.” Slate takes another pull from his beer and slouches back in the chair. We are out back on my patio, no other light on other than the one that shines through the slider door behind us, enjoying a beer.
It feels weird not being at the nursing home with my mother. So many nights I’ve sat by her side, falling asleep in the chair, unable to leave. Every waking moment, those that I’m not working anyway, I feel the need to spend that time by her side. I guess in my mind if I’m not with her when I can be, it leaves me feeling like somehow I’m abandoning her.
I took Martha up on her offer to set me up with a counselor, one for financial assistance and another to share my feelings. I’m still questioning the second one as I have never been the guy to talk about those kinds of things openly, especially with a stranger. The thoughts rolling around in my head are my thoughts; having someone sit with me, trying to convince me that my struggles are a natural reaction to my fate, is hard. I don’t like to feel analyzed. It’s intrusive, and my first natural instinct is to lash out.
Pent-up anger and frustration from the abandonment of my father, or so the shrink says.
“I can already see this is driving you crazy.” Slate chuckles, kicking up his legs and bringing them to rest on the old crate I use as a table.
“Feel like I’m forgetting something.” Confessing to Slate isn’t that hard. The guy knows me better than anyone, and he is the only person I don’t fear being judged by. “All I keep thinking is what if something happens and I’m not there for h
er.”
“Martha will call you, or one of the others. You know this.”
“Yeah.” I lift the bottle to my lips and feel the coolness of the beer. “Still hard, though.”
We sit in silence, not needing to say anything more. Like some unspoken conversation being shared.
“Shh.” I look up at Slate with an arched brow, about to ask him what the hell he was shushing me for, and found him looking off toward my neighbor’s yard. “Don’t want to wake the devil.” The words were in a hushed tone, but with the openness of the yards, and the silence of the night, it did nothing to hide the conversation taking place next door.
I see Slate lift his hand to cover his mouth just before his shoulders begin to shake with the laughter he’s attempting to hide.
The voices belong to two females, and I’m surprised by my feeling of relief knowing that she doesn’t have some guy over sharing an intimate night.
“That man is hellishly evil.” I lean in closer, doing my best to hear as the humor of the situation seeps in and I too feel a smile tugging at my lips.
“Be quiet.” I recognize the voice immediately as the sassy girl I’ve had a standoff with a time or two—my neighbor. “Don’t move, laugh, or even breathe. Otherwise the dragon will come flying out shooting fire from his nose.”
“I swear he has a two by four stuck up his ass.” They break out into a fit of giggles, and if I’m not mistaken, it appears as though they may be a little tipsy.
Slate lowers his hand, showing off the grin still on his lips. “You made a couple enemies, it seems.”
Lifting my hand, I flip him off and instantly think of the blonde with gorgeous eyes using that same gesture toward me only days ago.
“Do you think he’s gay?”
My smile falters.
“Who knows?” It is hard to distinguish between the two voices. “What I do know is no matter if he prefers the bratwurst or the bun, he needs to get laid.”
Leaning over, I place my beer on the ground next to my chair and attempt to stand when Slate stops me. “Dude, please don’t break this up. It’s too funny.”
“For you maybe.” The woman thought I was gay. I definitely prefer the bun over the brat. Even if it has been a long-ass time since I’ve gotten any.
We remain in the darkness, listening to the two women carrying on from one thing to the next. I’m happy that I chose to listen to Slate because I’d learned several things about my attractive neighbor. Things like her name for instance. Janelle.
I also learned that the blue-eyed beauty is a hair stylist, the middle sister, and prefers beer over wine.
My kind of girl.
After laughter and more ridiculous conversation that makes me chuckle more times than I can keep track of, the voices fade just before the sound of her back sliding door closing. The porch light that illuminates her backyard goes black, and in that moment I wish for them to return. An unfamiliar longing settles in my chest, the need to sit back and listen to her talk, the desire to know more.
Neither Slate nor I say anything right away. We sit in the darkness, continuing to drink our beers while staring out at absolutely nothing. It was a strange feeling, a peacefulness I’m unfamiliar with. For years I’ve been on the fast track, constantly working, worrying, and moving from place to place that I can’t remember the last time I did absolutely nothing at all.
“When do you plan on showing her you’re not the asshole she thinks you are?”
I weigh out his question, wondering how after being such a prick I can even gain the chance to prove otherwise. I imagine she’s begun preparing for war from the second she saw me approaching.
“I think I’ll sit back and wait this one out.” I admit silently to myself that I quite enjoy the heated banter between us. The way she fists her hands at her sides, the fire in her eyes as her nostrils flare, it excites me. I know I’m an asshole, but damn, an irritated Janelle is erotic.
“She’s liable to set off a bomb under your bed.”
Chuckling, I stand and move toward the house, seeking a fresh beer. She may act fierce, but I have a strong feeling she doesn’t have a real mean bone in her body.
***
“Shane.” I slide out from beneath the engine of a Nissan Frontier and look up at Jed. He is one of my younger technicians. “There’s a lady here that has an issue with some warranty work.”
Part of my promotion means that when someone is pissed, pacifying the customer falls on me. It’s the part I hate most. I have a tendency to flare up and my patience is thin, but I have to bottle that shit up.
It is fucking hard.
“We’ve tried scheduling her, and due to the overload of recalls on her model, we can’t get her in for a couple weeks.” I wait for him to explain. “She isn’t happy about the wait. Apparently she proceeded to tell Ben that all men are the same and because she’s a woman we feel we can just push her off.”
The poor kid looks exhausted, all hundred pounds of him. His eyes are wild as he looks back over his shoulder and then to me again quickly, like at any second the unhappy customer is gonna barge through the garage door and lay into him again. For a few seconds, I consider making him squirm, but then I slide out further, stand up, and immediately I see the relief that washes over his face.
“She’s like my mother, only a hundred times worse.”
I laugh and give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I got this.”
Walking away shaking my head, I pause at the door that leads to the lobby and take a moment to wipe the smile from my face. Stepping out to greet an already pissed-off lady with a smile on my face won’t help matters.
At the sound of the door opening, a woman spins around holding a little girl in her arms. Something is familiar about the little girl.
“So you’re the manager?”
“I am.”
She throws her free hand up in the air and then proceeds to allow her head to sag forward, resting her chin on her chest. “Great.” A low, exasperated exhale escapes her just as her daughter begins to wiggle in her arms.
“If you’ll follow me to my office,” I motion toward the door a few feet away, “we can talk this over and possibly come to an agreement.”
“I doubt it.” It’s a mumble, but clearly heard.
Begrudgingly, she begins to move, pausing only once to guide her daughter in the same direction.
Once inside, I gather a basket with crayons and color books that were left here by the last manager and hand them over to the small child. After she happily takes them, I walk around the edge of the desk and sit in the chair behind it. The woman appears annoyed, though she is not making eye contact. The flare of her nostrils and wrinkling of her forehead as she frowns, it all seems so familiar, like I have seen it before, but I’m not sure how.
“Listen.” Finally, she speaks, looking up at me still wearing the same displeased stare. “It’s great you bringing me back here and all, but I think we both know already it’s just for show. There isn’t a thing you’re going to do to change the fact that I can’t get my repairs completed before my travels. This is honestly just some sick game, the same games you’ve been playing with my sister for over a week now. The difference between her and me is that I have no intentions of playing in return. So if you would just jump on the computer in front of you and set me up for an appointment when it is convenient for you, as I have no other choice but to work it out.”
That is the moment the familiarity of the woman and her daughter comes into play.
“You’re Janelle’s sister.” I can’t stop the smile that forms on my lips. I find I am doing it more and more lately.
“Jackie,” she points to herself, “and yes, I’m one of them.” She looks away from me for a few seconds when her daughter brings over a picture she’s colored to show her. “I’m the oldest of the three Pearson daughters,” she finishes when she directs her daughter back to the small table and chairs in the corner. “Now you’ve had a run in with all three of us, tho
ugh with Janie you just simply stared like a horny teenager.”
The look on my face must mirror my confusion.
“And by the look on your face, you don’t remember.”
I shake my head.
“You were pretty wasted, so that doesn’t surprise me.” She rolls her eyes. “We ran into you at Mulligans, and it was just after we’d had dinner, where Janelle told us about your last encounter.” Near her Jeep. I remember every second of that interaction. Her legs and the sass in her when she backed out flipping me off through the window. “When Janie gets a little tipsy, she tends to get even more verbal, and we saw you near the bar, which was all it took. But of course the entire time she was telling you off, you were checking her out, from breasts to feet back to her chest again. Pretty sure you only made eye contact once, for a few very brief seconds.”
My stomach knots in irritation, not at her, but at myself.
“I don’t remember much of that night.” The confession makes me feel like an even bigger asshole. “When is your trip, Jackie?” I slide in closer to my desk and shake the mouse to wake my computer.
When she doesn’t respond, I look across the desk to see her staring at me. It’s different from before. She’s no longer scowling, yet she still seems skeptical. “As the manager, I do have the ability to shuffle things around when needed.”
“And you would do that?”
“I’m not a complete asshole.” I hear her snicker and wait silently for her to collect herself.
Holding up her hands in surrender, her smile widens. “I’m just saying that statement right there is still under debate. You should know that when the three of us get together, you are the topic of a great portion of our conversations.”
“The devilish neighbor with a stick up his ass, I know.” She doesn’t deny it, and I don’t attempt to change her mind. She isn’t the one I have to convince.
Chapter Ten
Janelle