Regan Harris Box Set

by Kelly Wood

  “Let me go mix up some color and we’ll get started.” Tabitha patted my shoulder and briskly walked away.

  “What are you getting done?” I asked Passion.

  “Oh, not a thing. I do my own hair and makeup.” Passion twirled in the stylist chair next to me.

  “Why can’t I do my own?” I asked.

  “Because you are supposed to look beautiful on your wedding day.” Passion laid her head back and continued to twirl the chair around. Stylist chairs never lost their fun even after you’d grown. “You’d braid yours or just curl it. You need to be pampered today.”

  Mom and Grams were shown to the front of the shop to choose nail colors with the other stylist. Mom’s voice traveled when she told Grams to put back the “hussy red.” Tabitha returned with a handful of foil pieces and a bowl of goo with a brush sticking out. Her return spared me from the urge to separate Mom and Grams.

  Tabitha worked quickly. I glanced over to the nail station. The other stylist was working on her hands while Grams soaked her feet. I let myself relax since they were both stationary. Tabitha kept up a stream of chatter to Passion and me, but I tuned it out and enjoyed the moment. I was getting married! Eek!

  “Would you mind moving over here?” Tabitha touched my shoulder to get my attention. I moved to the seat Passion vacated so Mom could take my place. I picked up a magazine to rifle through while I waited. A glance in the mirror showed dozens upon dozens of foil squares sticking out of my head.

  “What about you? What are you thinking? Up? Down?” Tabitha ran her fingers through my mom’s hair. She massaged her scalp with her long artificial nails. I grew green with envy.

  “Simple. I’m a simple gal.” My mom folded her hands in her lap, having given all the direction she intended. Tabitha once again looked to Passion.

  “Flat iron. Sleek down her bob, like yours, then spray the heck out it,” Passion said.

  I laughed. Passion knew Mom well. Anything fussy would just get brushed out when we got back upstairs. Grams’s laughter bubbled out from the front. I looked over to see the other stylist scrubbing Grams’s feet with a pumice stone. Irritation flashed across her face at Grams’s ticklishness, but she masked it quickly. I grinned. I also laughed uncontrollably during pedicures.

  I eased a finger between the foils to scratch my scalp. The chemicals were creating a small burning feeling, but I ignored it. Beauty is pain. I tuned back into the conversation. Passion was regaling Tabitha with our adventures this morning in the gym.

  “And that’s another reason why to stay out of the gym,” Tabitha said, waving a comb in her hand to emphasize the words. She went back to combing mom’s hair with one hand while using the flat iron on it with the other.

  “Not everyone comes by their slim body as naturally as you,” Passion replied. I crossed my eyes at my mom who was mocking Passion’s comment by mimicking a beauty queen. Mom pretended to flip her hair over her shoulder. Mom stifled a laugh.

  “First the jumper, then the rat, now the pool. What’s next? This place is cursed.”

  “What rat?” I asked. The conversation finally got interesting. Tabitha stopped ironing my mom’s hair straight to give me her full attention.

  “A guest called down to the front desk yesterday saying he found a rat in his room. He trapped it under one of his wife’s purses. From what I heard, she was not happy with the rat or her husband.” All of us chuckled. Tabitha picked up the dance again between the comb and her flat iron as she finished her story. “Mike, over in maintenance, told Bob in security that he thinks it was left in the room on purpose. Because, I guess, it’s not common to only have one rat. He thinks it was a plant. And then Shirley, you know the one, in housekeeping? Threw a fit and refused to go in any more rooms until they were checked. Anyway, poor Marsha. She’s our marketing and PR lady. She’s been running around like crazy trying to keep this out of the news.”

  Passion locked eyes with me and winked. In that instant, I realized why she had requested Tabitha. Underneath all her sheen and primness lurked the heart of a true gossip. The longer she talked, the more her voice slipped into its natural country dialect. I’d bet money she was once the prettiest girl in the trailer park. She made her escape and worked hard to exude anything other than the country bumpkin she was.

  “So, they didn’t find any more rats?” I asked.

  “No, but what’s gonna happen next?” Tabitha asked.

  “Who do you think is behind it? A disgruntled employee?” I asked.

  Tabitha and Passion looked at me aghast. “Absolutely not. Everyone wants to work for Frank. He’s generous and kind. No way it’s an employee.” Tabitha turned her attention to Passion, cutting off my questions. “Hey, did you hear about...”

  I tuned back out. I set my magazine on my lap and used both my hands to mash down the foils on my head. I hoped it didn’t ruin any of the work, but the slight itching was turning to a full-on burning sensation. I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the feelings.

  I glanced back at Grams to see how she was faring. Her legs were covered in a green, gritty goo. The stylist massaged Grams’s calves with practiced motions. Movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned back to the mirror, trying to use it to see behind me. It took a minute for eyes to adjust and refocus. The movement wasn’t behind me, it was on me. I watched in horror as wisps of smoke snaked up from the foils on my head. They curled and danced like the smoke on a recently blown-out match.

  “Um, Tabitha? I don’t think this is normal.” I pointed to my head. Her face mirrored mine with a look of horror. The trashy girl in her came out completely as a slew of curse words flew from her mouth.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Franky August 1988

  “Where’s my ungrateful son this time?” Antonio Bianchi asked Franky.

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Bull. You two have always been attached at the hip.”

  Franky didn’t know where Guy was this time, but he’d hedge a guess it was with Gracie. That’s who he’s attached to these days, Franky thought. Franky didn’t say anything to Antonio, though. No point. The old man knew exactly where he was. He may have sounded mean and gruff about it, but underneath he was happy. If the relationship worked out, then it would only strengthen the bond between the two families. Although, Antonio was upset that Guy no longer seemed to take an interest in the business.

  Franky tightened his hands on the steering wheel. It was a distraction to keep his hands from wrapping around his best friend’s neck. Guy hadn’t done anything wrong, nothing he could’ve helped anyway. He was just born with good looks, money, and family power. It wasn’t Guy’s fault Franky’s perfect woman had fallen for him. Franky could’ve handled that. He could’ve put up with Gracie following Guy around like a lost puppy dog for a few months. Eventually, she would’ve given up and moved on like the other girls in Guy’s life. Franky could’ve swept in then to hold her while she cried. He could’ve picked up right where he left off on the make-Gracie-fall-in-love-with-Franky-and-marry-him plan. But, no. No, his best friend had to go and fall for her, too!

  Traitor!

  Franky couldn’t even be upset with Guy. Guy didn’t steal his girl. Guy didn’t even know Franky knew Gracie existed. Guy stealing Gracie from him would’ve almost been easier. Almost. At least Franky could’ve punched him for it.

  Franky was spending twenty-four/seven with Antonio. The war was in full swing. The battle lines had been drawn. Costa and Bianchi versus Milano. The first few days had been a bloodbath. Street crews went at each other night and day, trying to make a name for themselves. Milano’s crews fought hard, at first. But, after a few days, they could see the writing on the walls. Made men and street crew members alike tried to jump ship and come on board with either Costa or Bianchi. Both families gave the traitors a place, a job, a home. Temporarily. Everyone involved knew the outcome. You couldn’t turn on one family and expect a long life in another. Once the war ended between the t
hree families and Milano was dead, there would be a bloodbath of another kind as the traitors were wiped out.

  “Where we goin’, Boss?” Franky asked. Antonio should’ve been locked away in his hotel until this was over. He should’ve had guards with him nonstop, but Antonio was stubborn. He wasn’t letting anyone lock him away while the battles raged. Since the ambush, Franky had taken to carrying three pieces on him. One gun at the small of his back, one in an ankle holster and one in a shoulder holster. He had also started carrying a knife attached to his arm. With one solid flick of the wrist, the knife would descend into Franky’s hand. Franky had to wear long-sleeved shirts through the heat, but the extra protection was worth it.

  “Costa’s.”

  “His house?”

  “Yes. Nuttin’ to hide now.” True, Franky thought. Milano already knew they were gunning for him. Two of the four of Milano’s inner circle were dead. It was just a matter of time now.

  Franky turned into the country club neighborhood. The large houses were set back from the streets with wide lawns separating them. Franky turned into Costa’s driveway and pulled the car around the back. Yes, Milano may have known Costa and Bianchi were working together, but that was no reason to broadcast it by parking in front of the house.

  Costa was alone, not even a bodyguard around, standing on the back patio. Franky thought he was being stupid and cocky. In this business, it was always a good idea to make sure someone was watching your back. A few someones would be good now.

  The three men made their way to Costa’s study. They stood eyeing one another. Franky didn’t know the purpose of the meeting. Antonio liked to play his cards close to his chest, so he kept his mouth shut and his eyes open.

  “Drinks, gentleman?” Both Antonio and Franky declined. Franky would’ve loved whiskey but needed to keep his wits about him in the viper’s den. Costa poured one for himself before officially starting the meeting.

  “Milano’s team has dwindled down to one,” Costa said.

  “One? Other than him?” At Costa’s nod, Antonio continued. “It’s close, then.”

  “Yes. We need to draw our boundaries now. I do not want a feud between us when Milano is gone.” Costa chose a chair in a small seating area. The power move would’ve been to address Antonio across his expansive desk. Choosing the sitting area showed they were friends, not adversaries. Smart, thought Franky. The move caused Antonio to lower his guard a notch but not Franky.

  “And this is your show of trust? Being outnumbered by me and Franky?”

  Costa looked at ease, even outnumbered as Antonio had pointed out.

  “This is a new time, Antonio. I think you can see that as well as I. Milano can’t. It’s time to put away the old days.”

  “Worked for me so far.” Antonio sat in the chair next to Costa, but there was nothing relaxed about his stance. He leaned forward on the seat ready to pounce. Costa leaned back in his chair. Antonio could strike before Costa even had a chance to react. That was the impression, anyway. Franky thought different. Costa wasn’t a fool. He had to have a way to defend himself. Franky started scanning the area for any weapons. With Milano’s family crippled, Costa could wipe Antonio out now and be the only one left standing. But, it wouldn’t be the best move. It would leave him open to the New York families to invade the territory.

  “Your boy, the young one? He has a fancy for my wife’s cousin.” Costa twirled his whiskey in the glass, holding it up to the light. Antonio didn’t comment. “It would bond us, Antonio. One family.”

  “With you at the helm?”

  “No. With us, Antonio.”

  “Separate but equal? This isn’t the fifties, and there’s only one captain of the ship.”

  “I see it differently. We could blaze our own trail. Stop the constant infighting. Keep both our families strong.”

  “I have every intention of sticking to our agreement. If you do, too, then what’s the point?” Antonio asked.

  “The point is, once word gets out about Milano, one of the New York families will try to move to Vegas. If we don’t prevent it from the start, by combining our forces, we leave room for someone else. You know it. I know it.” With that Costa emptied his glass and slammed it down on the table.

  “He’s right.” Franky didn’t mean to speak, but since he had, he took a moment and used it. Both men looked at him. Antonio’s face showed anger. Franky’s place wasn’t to speak. Costa’s face showed interest. Costa waved for Franky to continue. “He’s right, Boss. History shows families don’t stick together for long unless it is mutually beneficial. Gracie and Guy’s affair aside, you have a shot here.”

  “Go on. Frank, is it?” Costa stood to refill his glass. He poured two more for Antonio and Franky. Franky didn’t correct him on that he preferred Frank-y.

  “Caesar’s Palace is halfway down the Strip. Both of your hotels are on either side. Boss, you take north. Costa, you take south. The rest can be divided as the need arises. Most of the business is on the Strip anyway.”

  “Who’s in charge?” Antonio wanted to know.

  “Both of you. You run your own crews. Make it clear the men work together or don’t work for either of you.”

  “Who settles disputes?” Antonio asked again. Antonio didn’t like the thought of sharing the limelight with anyone.

  “Both of you. Bring in a third unbiased party when you can’t reach an agreement. But, I’ve been with you awhile, Boss. You two may have different styles, but you see the world through the same glasses.”

  Antonio relaxed his posture completely for the first time tonight. He sat back in his chair, his hands locked under his chin, deep in thought. Costa was the first to break the silence.

  “What do you see for the future, Frank?” Franky liked the sound of the grown-up name. He puffed out his chest as he thought for a moment before continuing. He wanted to project knowledge, authority. This was his biggest moment yet. His biggest chance to prove himself.

  “It’s time to change our image. Blend in more. Time to ditch the look of the old world and the style. We should be more active in the community. Do charitable work. On the outside, project pillars of the community.”

  “Look like pansies?” Antonio asked.

  “No, Boss. Blend in. Our family reputations will speak for us when problems arise. We’ve already proven our strength. Especially when Milano is gone.”

  “Clean up our acts, so to speak, Frank?” Costa said.

  “Yes. Give the authorities a reason to look to the underbelly while we are amongst them the whole time. Less muscle. More finesse,” Franky said.

  “Antonio? Your thoughts?” Costa asked.

  “I need to think on this.”

  “Let’s. Let’s all think on this. I’d like the three of us to meet again. We’ll come together and plan.” Costa said the three of us. Franky tried to hide his smile.

  “Gentlemen, let me walk you out.” The three men finished their drinks in one pull each before heading to the back of the house. Costa opened the door and stepped out with Franky and Antonio.

  As they shook hands next to Bianchi’s car, two men emerged from the trees behind the house. Milano and his last man standing both held guns on the group.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tabitha reacted quickly. She hauled me from the chair and shoved me in the direction of the shampoo bowls, yanking the foils out as she went. I didn’t mind the pulling and pushing as long as she was fixing whatever caused the smoke and stopped the burning on my scalp.

  Tabitha didn’t wait for me to get settled in the chair. She pushed my head straight down and turned on the water. The cool cascade felt like heaven against my scalp. I stood still, bent at the waist as she worked the water around. After a moment I inched over and crawled into the seat, slowly twisting until I could lay my head in the headrest. It poked into my neck, but I didn’t mind. The awkward position felt comforting to me.

  Tabitha shampooed and rinsed my hair multiple times using cool water. After laye
ring in a thick layer of conditioner, she told me she wanted it to sit a moment and turned off the water. She tried to hide the look of worry she passed to Passion, but I caught it.

  Mom and Grams stood hovering over me, too. Grandma left a trail of greasy footprints. I focused on her with her pink linen pants rolled up to her knees. The green goo gave an eerie cast to her skin tone. Between the green goo, pink pantsuit, and blue hair, she was a walking rainbow of color.

  Tabitha rinsed out my hair before wrapping it in a towel. I sat up and slowly trudged back to the stylist station. A man walking the plank would have used a faster pace. Mom, Passion, and Grams shuffled behind me. Grams’s feet made sucking sounds with each step.

  I sat down and braced myself. I told myself that it wouldn’t matter. No matter how blonde the highlights were. It could always be fixed. This was my mantra. I repeated it over and over again.

  Tabitha loosened the towel and gave my hair a squeeze with it to get out the excess water. My nightmare came true. My mantra failed. Even without knowing how to do hair, I could see there was no fixing this.

  Most of my hair trailed down long and dark, but the rest... The highlighted pieces broke off in Tabitha’s hands with every touch. Short spikes of dark hair sprouted off my head all over. The blonde tails disintegrating and falling to the floor. The strands looked like yellow cotton candy.

  “Well... at least it’s not breaking all the way down to the root,” I said optimistically. I was holding onto any silver lining I could find to keep from crying. I guess I was more attached to my hair than I realized.

  I looked at their faces in the mirror. Tabitha couldn’t meet my eyes. Mom looked... I probably shouldn’t use that word. I’ll say very, very angry based on the red tone of her face. Passion pressed her face to mine and took a selfie with me. Her beautiful face smiling while my mouth hung open. The other stylist was in the back room. I could hear her banging around trying to stay busy when really, she was probably just hiding from the explosive situation out here.