by Celeste, B.
“Deal.” Helping her get what she needed, I plopped down on the chair and watched her grab a towel from the kitchen to drape over my shoulders.
“This is because of your eating disorder, right? If it were just about your father, you probably wouldn’t even go to school because there are a lot of people he hurt there.”
Wow. She went right for the jugular. I wasn’t that surprised, but it still didn’t make me warm and fuzzy to hear. “The haircut is for me. I always told myself I’d keep my hair long, especially if it meant my mother would brush and braid it before bed every night.” And Theo, but she didn’t know who that was, and I didn’t feel like explaining the sordid tale. It made me think about the note, which I realized halfway through the day had fallen out of my pocket. It’d put me in a sour mood, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t a love note, but it still made me feel…something.
She was quiet for a moment as she ran a comb through my hair to make sure it was smooth. “Your mother was always kind to everybody. She stood out from the rest.”
The familiar sting of old memories watered down my eyes. “Yeah, she did.”
“Okay, so new hair for a new you,” she moved on, allowing me to close my eyes and collect myself. “You don’t go out a lot because of the disorder though. A haircut won’t change that.”
“I didn’t say it would.”
“Why do you want to be different then?”
“I don’t want to be different, per se…” How could I explain it when I wasn’t sure I got it myself? I froze momentarily when I felt the blades rise to a lock of my hair. They closed, snipping off a long chunk.
Sensing my reaction, Tiffany walked in front of me with her brows raised. “For some reason you trust me, right?”
I met her eyes. “I trust you not to make me look homeless.”
She snorted. “Tit for tat. You’re right about me being interested in cosmetology when I was younger. Hair, nails, you name it. I liked making people feel pretty using what they already have. So, I get it. What you’re doing. It’s about enhancing how you feel about yourself. Cutting your hair is like starting over, right?”
Maybe she did get it. “Right. I’m thinking about going back to my normal color too.”
“Okay.” Moving back around me, she carefully evened out my hair before snipping off more. The weight eased from my scalp with every passing minute and I refused to look to the floor where my hair rested. “Do you struggle with it? Your disorder?”
“Every day.”
“But you haven’t…?”
My throat bobbed. “Not in a while. That doesn’t mean I’m not tempted. Some days it’s easier to fight than others. Lately, I’ve been thinking about how easy it would be to just go back to what I used to do. To not eat. To…” Letting my words trail off, I shook my head.
“Do you think this will help? You said you had steps you were following. What’s the endgame for you?”
What’s my endgame? That was a question I hadn’t asked myself in a long time. Maybe never. “Would it be wrong if I said I don’t know? It isn’t like I don’t have goals—”
“Fine. What are they?”
I paused. “To be happy. To be…healthy. Or as healthy as I can be given what I’ll be facing for the rest of my life. I just want…” Theo came to mind, making heat creep up the back of my neck. Squirming, I said, “I just want to be the best version of myself I can possibly be.”
When she didn’t say anything, I wondered what she was thinking. I didn’t want her to pity me. That wasn’t who she was. I preferred her talking smack, trying to pressure me into dancing, anything but what was possibly going through her head that sympathized with me. “What else do you want to do besides get a new ‘do? Tell me the other steps.”
Grateful, I smiled. “My art professor suggested that I do a figure drawing class. It’ll be the most uncomfortable thing for me to do.”
“Drawing naked people?”
Clearing my throat, I said, “Being the naked person people draw.”
“Oh. Oh.” She stopped again. “Does she know about what you’ve been through?”
“That’s why she thinks it’s a good idea.”
“Body positivity,” she realized, almost sounding awed by the idea.
I hummed and did nothing else.
“Yoga.”
My brows pinched. “What?”
Sighing, she moved on to the other side of my hair. “You have to come to yoga class every week. No skipping unless it’s necessary. If you don’t show up, I know where you live now. I’ll drag you there myself.”
“But why?”
She appeared in front of me again, a hand on her hip. “If you want to take her advice, you need balance. That means trying. Go to yoga every week, find a routine. Put yourself in the mindset with your new badass haircut and build yourself up to a point where you can be more comfortable putting yourself out there.”
I licked my lips. “That sounds easier said than done.”
“Nothing worthwhile comes easy. How many people have told us that growing up? I’m fairly sure I heard your own mother tell you that during practice a time or five million.” My mother was full of wise advice that I held onto, so Tiffany was right. Until she added, “And you’re dancing again.”
My eyes bugged out. “Whoa. Wait—”
“Not for Judith or anybody else.” That shut me up. Well, that and the narrowed look she gave me that told me to let her speak. “You’re going to come to my private studio and we’re going to dance like I originally offered, except I’m not giving you a choice this time.”
“But—”
“No. Routine, remember? Yoga is a first step. A baby step if you will. It’ll get your mind to calm and center your focus. Dancing will help you get back out there again and start recognizing your body for what it is. Plus, you can’t tell me you’ve never danced since walking away. I wouldn’t believe it.”
I wasn’t going to admit I’d found myself moving to old routines we’d practiced or turning on music here and moving my body to the beat, or even slow dancing at the warehouse with Theo, something I desperately wanted to repeat just for the sake of being held by him and caressed by the melody. “But I don’t want to, Tiffany.”
“Why?”
I said nothing.
“I’m not finishing your hair until I get a valid answer. Don’t think I won’t make you walk around looking like you lost a fight to a chainsaw. Feel me?”
My lips twitched.
“So?” she pressed.
I debated my options and met her eyes realizing I didn’t have any. So, I admitted for the second time in one day what I’d held in for a long time. “It’s the mirrors.”
Her head cocked. “The mirrors?” When I nodded, she considered the answer, studying me like she was trying to figure out my tells. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay. That’s good.”
“I’m confused.”
She snickered and went back to my hair, clearly accepting my answer for what it was. “If it’s just that, it’s a fixable problem I can actually help with.”
Again. I was silent.
“Think about it,” she prompted. “Your endgame, subconsciously, is doing that drawing class as a nude model. Which, by the way, badass. That would be nerve wracking for anybody. But if you get back on that dance floor, in front of the mirrors, and work out those feelings, you’ll be better for it. You’ll get used to accepting your body again. It’ll take time, Adele, like everything does.”
It made sense, more than I wanted it to. So, for the rest of the haircut, we were silent while I considered it with a heavy conscious. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but welcoming.
Eventually, she started humming like she was enjoying herself and I figured it had something to do with her victory considering I didn’t argue.
After she told me to look in the mirror when she was finished, I touched the ends of my new short cut and smiled at my reflection. It lasted longer than norma
l. When I came back out and saw her sweeping the floor despite her protests before, I smiled wider because…
We were becoming friends.
So, I said, “The people who don’t completely dislike me call me Della.”
She paused, looked up at me, and tried hiding a smile. “Okay.” Another pause. “People don’t really call me anything other than Tiffany, Tiff, or bitch. Typically, the latter.”
I snorted. “Tiff it is.”
A last-minute decision had me snapping a selfie to show off my new look and sending it to Theo with no caption. I didn’t need one.
My phone pinged.
Theo: Like I always say. Beautiful.
Chapter Twelve
Theo
If I had longer hair, I’d have pulled it out by now. It was better than putting my fist in The Dick’s face like I wanted to as soon as he showed up uninvited right before lunchtime. I was already on edge since I left Della’s apartment yesterday morning and knew that the note I’d left wasn’t good enough after what we’d done. She deserved more than one text after she sent me that picture—a call. A visit. I’d planned on surprising her tonight for dinner.
My mind wrapped around the feeling of her squeezing me, leaving me permanently hard all fucking day. It didn’t put me in a good mood since I’d taken a cold shower while planning how to approach us now. We couldn’t go back, I didn’t want to, but that didn’t mean moving forward would be easy. Dealing with an asshole like Pratt certainly didn’t put my thoughts at ease because his eyes told me they knew. I wasn’t sure how, but he did.
“You’re not even listening, are you?” He wiped his mouth with a napkin before sitting back in the chair across from me. The restaurant he chose was busy and public, probably for his benefit since I was red-faced as soon as he stepped foot into my office and told me we needed to talk. Yet, we did a whole lot of bullshitting over the forty-five minutes I was stuck here with other rich pricks and businessmen. Half of them were probably making deals that went beyond the scope of their experience based on the beady fuckers at the tables closest to us.
“When you have something valuable to say, I’ll listen.” My voice was emotionless, something that clearly pissed him off. It was obvious he lived for people’s reactions when he wasted their time with his bullshit. I bet it worked most of the time.
His scowl made me grin. “Let’s get down to business then. Samantha.”
I blinked. “Your daughter? What the fuck does she have to do with anything?”
His arms rested on the edge of the table, his head cocking to examine me with a glint in his eyes that I refused to react to. “I happen to know she’s been hanging out with Adele Saint James, Katrina Murphy, and Gina Vandyke.”
One of my brows arched, but silence remained between us because I wasn’t going to offer him anything until he got to the point.
“I’m sure you’re not surprised that they enjoy treating themselves to the Murphy and Vandyke stash.” Anybody who was involved with their social circle knew that he was talking about drugs and fake money, but I didn’t like his tone or what he was implying between the lines.
My eyes narrowed. Attention drawn, I leaned toward him with new anger boiling over inside me. “What are you getting at, Pratt?”
“What do you think, Theo?” His lips twitched at the corners—amusement obvious over my distaste for his accusation.
“Adele doesn’t do that shit. Just because you let your daughter ruin her fucking life because you don’t give a fuck about your family doesn’t mean she’s anything like that.”
“Always so protective,” he chuckled. “I have it on good authority that isn’t the case though. The good little girl you thought you were raising is no different than Samantha.”
“Bullshit.”
One shoulder lifted. “Believe what you want, but the truth will come out. Sooner rather than later, in fact. Don’t think it’ll stop there either. There are things I’m sure you wouldn’t want out that will affect the both of you.”
His threat hit me square in the chest, setting off the need to deny or avoid it entirely. “I would watch it if I were you.”
“Funny. I was going to say the same to you. Do you think you’re the only person who has eyes and ears on other people? Money talks. We’re both made of it. Some of us put it to good use if it means gaining something.”
The only thing he was gaining is the likelihood of me smashing his face against the goddamn table. His family, and the Vandyke’s, printed counterfeit bills as their main source of income these days, drugs were a new business venture over the past year. I was surprised they hadn’t been caught yet. I’d like to think it was only a matter of time before their operation was discovered, but I had no leverage besides hearsay.
Rubbing my lips together, I considered my reply. If I said the wrong thing, he’d run with it because he did have the money and power to do something about it, even if some of that money was fake. That should have worried me, but I refused to let it. “I think you’re a coward, Richard. You’re trying to scare me into believing you have dirt on me because you’re not getting what you want. Child’s play, really.”
His stare pinned me, but I held it. Did he have dirt on me? Probably. But there were things I was careful about, that I was positive nobody else knew. Things that involved just how invested I was with a certain blonde, and I knew immediately when his eyes flashed that he understood clearly where my thoughts went.
Digging into his pocket, he flattened out a small piece of paper that I identified immediately.
Left for work. Took the dog home.
I saw the way he watched me examine the note I’d left for Della, but I knew better than to show it was tied to either her or me. I hadn’t signed it. The best he could do was assume.
“How do you think it would look if stories of your time with little Saint James came out? If people saw just how you looked at her? How you’d leave her little notes early in the morning after a sleepover together?” His inquiry was cocky. I said nothing, fueling him. Denying it would only make him go further, so silence was the only way to go. “Maybe you’re right, Theo. Maybe I don’t have anything on you. But her? Well, so long as she’s around Samantha and the other girls, she’s around the same corruption her father got head deep in. Would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Such potential, I’m told. I’m not sure she’d be the same if the media came after her again considering her last round with them.”
I was fine being threatened and taking it, but Della? She didn’t deserve to be dragged into any of this. Standing, the chair scraped back as I slammed money down on the table and gripped the edge of it. “Your family has always been faced with corruption because you’re weak. Adele, what she’s gone through, has made her strong. Your threats will only ever be that.”
The smirk he gave me told me that he didn’t believe it, which was a problem. If he was willing to act himself it was for good reason. Normally he hired other people to do his dirty work. But I couldn’t go back and change my reaction to something that wasn’t so telling.
He knew.
He knew that I cared about Della.
He’d use her to get what he wanted.
Fuck.
“Your business won’t last if another investor drops. You may have the money to survive, but what about your reputation? How long will you make it in this city if people thought you were in too deep, just like your former partner? If you used his departure from this world to sink into his beautiful offspring like a predator?”
My teeth ground so hard I was sure I’d need to get them fixed. “So that’s what you want? To save me?”
“I simply want to help.”
“You want in my company, and I want to know the real reason why. It isn’t to help others, that’s for damn sure. But I’m not in the mood today. Today, I’ve had enough of you.”
He laughed, drawing people’s attention to our table. Their stares didn’t last long once they figured out who he was. They were smart to keep to
themselves, but I was sure they were listening for any details they could get so they could spread rumors even without him asking them to. “Can’t say I’m surprised knowing your short temper. Just remember what I said. We’ll be in touch.”
“You sound sure.”
He stood too, flattening his suit jacket, and shooting me a confident wink that I wanted to smack off his face. “Guess you’ll have to see for yourself. Seems I know more things about your weakest points than you do. I’ll leave this working relationship open for a while until you see sense.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He turned, waving down a waiter who appeared almost instantly. Paying him no attention as he handed over bills too big for what was spent on our lunches, he patted the young boy’s arm. “Don’t accept Mr. West’s money. It’d be an insult to me considering I invited him to lunch.”
Nostrils flaring, I glared. He never paid, everybody knew that. He was making a statement.
“You owe me now,” was the last thing he said before turning to leave.
I wanted to yell.
To punch something.
But what did I do?
I went to the last place I should have, leaving behind the piece of paper on the table so The Dick couldn’t accuse me of its ownership.
I saw the black leather jacket first. It engulfed her small frame, but she wore it proudly. I hadn’t seen it on her since the night of Anthony’s funeral.
“Wow. Look who’s alive,” she commented, holding the jacket around her like a barrier. The wince that came from her was subtle before she said, “Sorry. I had a bad day.”
“Want to talk about it?” Honestly, all I wanted was to go inside, kiss her, make her dinner, and watch whatever the hell she put on TV. I didn’t care if it had to do with aliens, mummies, horrible cooking, or animals. I just wanted to spend time with her and ignore the day, which had clearly been a rough one for both of us.
“Not really,” she admitted quietly, looking around at a few bystanders. Her sigh was light as she brushed her new short hair behind her ear. “I’ve been fighting with myself a little. Just having one of those days.”