Point of Attraction

by Margaret Van Der Wolf

  “All right, Georgie!” He smiled his twenty-something charming grin. “Look, your corner table is empty.”

  Georgie glanced to the far corner where she often waited for the girls or just sat and sipped an espresso while re-reading what she’d written the night before. For a second, she felt shock and a quick shudder. A red rose with a white ribbon beneath the bud lay on the table. She almost turned to ask Parker about it, but one of the Cup Java workers towel-dried a bud vase, poured some water in it, then slipped the rose inside. Georgie then noticed all the tables this morning sported a rose in a vase.

  “Georgie?”

  “No, not this morning.” she told Parker. “I have to get to the shop and get it going.”

  “Here you go then,” he said, handing her a twenty-ounce espresso. “That’s five-seventy-five.”

  “Ouch! It better be good.” Georgie took a cautious sip and her taste buds responded. “Oh, yes,” she cooed, handing over a ten dollar bill. “What is this drink of the gods?”

  “A Parker Morning Wake-up Special,” he whispered with a smile that Georgie was certain could send heat waves through many a young woman’s body. “Coming in for a hair cut soon.”

  “Call me.” She nodded while slowly savoring another sip then motioned to his worker, Delsie, to put the change in the tip jar. “Hmmm. Worth every penny. You’re my man.”

  “Don’t I wish.” Parker grinned, did the Groucho Marx-eyebrow lift, and went back to his job. Georgie turned to leave and found a wall of black jacket and neatly pressed black shirt with shiny buttons. She sidestepped while sipping her Parker Special, but the wall moved with her, still blocking her way. Her sight finally focused on the weaponry at the waist and she looked up.

  “You and I need to talk,” Mason said, and pointed to the far corner table.

  “No,” Georgie said, and indicated a table at the big window facing the parking lot and the street beyond. “Over here.”

  When they sat down, the tip of his shoe touched hers and he pulled his feet back, but his large hands almost touched hers on the small round table. She fought the urge to look into his eyes and centered her attention on her espresso, his fingers still very close.

  “So far,” Mason started out, “We’ve found nothing regarding Raggs. No one seems to have suffered a hit that night either, or at least they haven’t reported it.”

  “A hit?”

  “Robbery, break’n’ entry.”

  “Oh.” Even though she was expecting this, it hurt just the same. “I’m not surprised,” she murmured.

  “I’m sorry.” His finger twitched, almost lifting and touching hers, but he stopped and looked to the opening door.

  Georgie turned. Tonie Clark was walking in. Georgie raised her espresso to her lips as she watched Tonie’s searching glance swing first to the far corner where a young couple now sat enjoying their morning wake-up drink, then moved over the room.

  Georgie swallowed, enjoyed the warm tasty liquid make its way down, and waved at the young officer.

  Tonie smiled recognition and headed in their direction. “We have a call,” she told Mason. “Stolen vehicle. Happened sometime last night. Man went to get in his car this morning... and it was gone.”

  “I’ll be right out.”

  Tonie nodded formally then smiled down at Georgie before leaving.

  Mason leaned forward. “George, your, ah, Spook friend came to see me last night.”

  “Spook friend?” The moment the words came out, Georgie realized who he meant. She shook her head and let it drop into her hands, then peered at him through her fingers. “Nick,” she said, and Mason nodded. She really didn’t want to ask, but she needed to know. “What did he say?”

  Georgie could not deny her heart raced as Mason smiled at her, his eyes warm, their color deepening as they moved over her face. At the rising flush to her face, she wondered briefly if she was blushing, but decided Parker must have raised the temperature of the place.

  “For an only child, Mrs. Gainsworth, you have very impressive and awesome siblings, a Mad OB/GYN and now an invisible Spook... who’s turning out to be not so invisible after all.”

  “I’m so sorry, but he does mean well. I’m afraid to ask, but...”

  “You’ll be glad to know there is a birth certificate for him. His parents were Mary Jane and William Bane Underwood, ordinary folk, both now deceased. And he’ll be glad to know he does exist and works at Cantell Electronics, held in high regard as their best salesman and systems troubleshooter; none better, they said. Impressive.”

  All Georgie could do was force a smile of apology. She could wring Nick’s neck, then decided there was no “could,” about it. She would wring his neck. Emmee was right. He was a lunatic! But, she sighed in acceptance, he was hers and Cassie’s lunatic, and in truth, they would have him no other way.

  “He hung around until I came off my shift.”

  “What? But how did he know where...”

  “Don’t know. Never mind that.” His eyes darkened as his scrutiny intensified. “But he asked if I had put a rose on your windshield. What’s going on, George?”

  “Someone tucked a rose under my windshield wiper last night.” She shrugged. “I thought it was Nick, but I guess not.”

  “Is he not one to do that?”

  A small laugh found its way out. “Not really. I just thought it might be an apology for acting the fool.”

  The lights on his squad car began flashing. Tonie’s signal for him to hurry, and Georgie began gathering her things.

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “I really didn’t think it was,” she said, pushing back her chair.

  “Why?” He reached to help her, but she was already on her feet.

  “Why would you?”

  “Don’t know, but I could have.”

  “And did you?” she asked, both puzzled and feeling a little something at his reaction.

  “No. I just told you. But...” He pointed. “I want you to know I could have.”

  “Problem is, now I’m wondering who did put it there, and why?”

  “What about Mr. Sanders?”

  She shook her head, not really sure at first, then decided, “Nnnno.”

  “Obviously whoever it was has good taste.” He smiled and led her toward the door. “Listen, are you going to be home tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d like to come by. It’ll be after seven, if it’s okay.”

  Georgie swallowed that tightness in her throat and said, “Sure,” as they left.

  Emmee and Brandy came up to her as the squad car drove off with its lights flashing with a quick blast of the siren as it entered traffic. For the first time, Georgie could not bring herself to repeat what she often told her kids when they saw police lights flashing along the roadside, “Oh, oh, Christmas lights.” The lights looked nothing like that now.

  “Damn, but that man looks good in that uniform,” Emmee said with a sigh. “So now we’re having morning coffee with him? Making progress here.”

  But Georgie didn’t take the bait. All she could think of was Mason going out on a call, something he did, day in day out, and any one of those calls could be the one to go bad. No, they’re nothing like Christmas lights. The lights went off and no siren came on. The theft was last night. No need to hurry, she thought.

  “Hey, Boss Lady. You there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here,” she murmured and led the way to the salon.

  “You guys going to open up this shop or not?” Brandy’s first customer asked, leaning on the door.

  “The day awaits,” Georgie told the girls while motioning Edward out of the way so she could officially open Dare To Care Salon. “Ed, we have to have our coffee, or we make mean hairstylists. Trust me, you don’t want that. Besides, it’s only a quarter of. We don’t officially open ‘til nine.”

  “But you’re always here at eight-thirty,” he said. “Everyone knows that.”

  Maybe she was too predictable, Georgie thou
ght, and followed them in after looking up the street where the police car had already turned the corner and disappeared behind a building.

  Well, she certainly ventured an unexpected step into unpredictability, and took another sip of Parker’s special to settle the little flip in her tummy. Whatever possessed her to say yes to Mason coming over?

  Chapter nine

  As the hands on the clock neared five-thirty, Georgie had trouble concentrating on her work. It would be six-thirty before she was done with Adrian’s color weave. Then came the cut and blow dry. After seating Adrian in one of the waiting chairs to let the color process, Georgie went to the supply room to wash out the bowls. She glanced at the clock, saw only ten minutes had passed, and pushed up the faucet handle. Water came out full force, struck the two bowls and sent their contents everywhere.

  “Dammit!”

  “What’s up?” Emmee asked, popping her head through the doorway of the supply room as she walked behind her client to the shampoo bowls.

  Georgie turned slightly to show her. There was bleach and color on her face, cobbler apron, and all over the wall.

  “Don’t touch me,” Emmee laughed, backing away.

  By the time Georgie finished cleaning up, grateful the bleach and color had missed her eyes, the timer for her weave pinged loudly. She refused to look at the clock. Did she want the time to go fast, or not? She wanted to throw up, that’s what she wanted. Why had she said yes to Mason? It was a bad idea. Yet she could not deny the up beat of her heart and flush of heat each time she thought of it.

  She finally finished Adrian’s color, cut and blow-dry, and stood behind the front desk while Adrian dug through her wallet when the phone rang.

  “Dare To Care Salon. This is Georgie. May I help you? Hello? Hello?” With vacuum silence being her only answer, she hung up.

  “Don’t you hate that?” Adrian said, holding out her Debit Card.

  Georgie slid the card then handed it back to Andrian.

  After putting it back in her wallet, Andrian smiled while looking in the mirror behind the desk and pushed at her hair. “Love it,” she said, then pointed to the empty space on the shelf. “Oh, Sweetie, I hope you find Raggs.”

  Georgie forced a return smile, and Adrian went out the door, letting in the cold air and noise of falling rain. What a change from yesterday and this morning. Cars squished the moisture under their tires as they jockeyed their way through the parking lot and streets.

  The phone rang again and Georgie just stared at it a moment before looking up at Emmee and Brandy. They just shrugged. On the third ring, she picked up. “Dare To Care Salon. This is Georgie. May I...”

  “George, this is Mason.”

  It took all Georgie had to keep from looking around to see if any of those in the shop could somehow hear, or tell it was Mason on the phone. Self-conscious, and the need for privacy rode her hard. “Hi. Was that you that just called?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. Must have been a drive-by hang up,” she said, keeping her voice low while looking out the window as though watching the traffic. “What’s up?”

  “We have a situation going down. Don’t know how long it will take. Another rain check on that coffee?”

  “Sure.” It was difficult for her to register what she was feeling, relief or disappointment?

  There was a pause, not a long one, but a noticeable one.

  “George?”

  “Yes.”

  “I really want to collect on that rain check.”

  There was so much she wanted to say, some clever remark, something bland, and something she couldn’t even bring herself to think about much less say. All that came out was, “‘kay.” She swallowed and forced out the words. “You and Tonie be careful.”

  “She went home sick.”

  Before the pause became too obvious and harder to break, Georgie said, “Then you be careful.”

  While she could still hear police station activity in the background, Mason said nothing, yet she didn’t want to hang up. Something was left unsaid though she was unsure what, and she asked, “You there?”

  “Yes,” he said, paused again, then, “It’s... just that it’s been a while since anyone has said that to me.”

  “Let’s hit it, Montgomery,” a man’s voice said in the background.

  “got’ta go, George. Bye.”

  The click pierced Georgie’s ear and she stared down at the buzzing receiver in her hand. With great care she placed it back on its base. When she looked up, she saw Emmee was looking at her over her client’s head through the mirror of her station. Without a word Emmee motioned her client to the shampoo bar. Brandy too had been watching through the corner of her eye, but when Georgie caught her, she immediately turned back to the haircut she was doing.

  The door swung open with a ping. “Hey, Georgie Girl, can I talk you into a hair cut before you leave?”

  Nick stood there, motorcycle helmet in the crook of the elbow, his smile as boyish as the day Georgie first saw him sitting on the top step of his parent’s porch watching the movers unload her family’s furniture. But this was now, and she took a deep breath to meet that smile with as cold a stare as she could muster. With great calculation, she came around her desk.

  He quickly held up a hand to ward her off. “If you don’t want to cut my hair, just say so. I can go to one of those assembly line cheap joints where I don’t even need an appointment.”

  “I should let you, you know that?” she scolded. “No. I should drive you to one and sit there while they cut-up your thinning blond locks.” She started for the back of the shop.

  “Thinning?” he asked, running his fingers through his hair and giving a quick glance into the mirror before trailing behind her. “Oh, that is such a cheap shot, and so sooo beneath you.”

  “Hi, Nick,” Brandy said, as they went past her to Georgie’s station.

  “Hey, Brandy.”

  “Well, will you look at what the acid-rain washed in,” Emmee said, coming back from the shampoo bar with her client.

  “Love you too, Emmee-Loo,” he answered, and they touched open hand finger tips as they passed each other.

  That was their banter. Emmee hated him calling her Emmee-Loo, and she bit back with her dry humor.

  Georgie waited while Nick set down his helmet and hung up his leather jacket. When he hooked it on the coat tree, the sturdy wooden hanger swung with the weight of it.

  “Jeez what do you have in that jacket?” she asked.

  “Pure thick leather, Georgie Girl,” he said, steadying the coat tree. “Keeps the rain out.” Then sat down in the hydraulic chair.

  Georgie put on the neck strip, snapped open the drape to wrap it around him, and asked, “What did you say to Officer Montgomery?”

  “No,” Nick said, settling into the chair. “First you cut my hair. Then we’ll discuss Dudley Do-Right. No clippers this time. I’m wearing it longer.”

  “I can see that.” Georgie gave his hair a tug and started combing through it. There actually was no sign of thinning, but she couldn’t help noticing the blond was slowly giving way to hints of white. Though he tried to hide it, he winced, and she eased a finger over the spot.

  “What?” he asked. “Did you find head lice?”

  Carefully parting the hair again over the area, Georgie saw a healing cut, and looked into the mirror at him. “What happened? How did you get this cut?”

  “Quit playing with it.”

  “What happened?”

  “God, you’re nosey,” he said. “Alright. First, if it’s any of your business, while trouble-shooting the computer system I sold, I opened a metal drawer... you know... sharp corners and all that. Then I crawled under the metal desk to make sure all the connections for the system were securely in place and not been compromised. And I came back up. Oh, did I mention the drawer was still open at the time? Very unforgiving, that sharp corner was.”

  “Oh, Nick.”

  “Split me wide open.”
<
br />   “Looks like it took a couple of stitches,” she said, easing a finger over it. “More than a couple.”

  “Ow. Quit playing with it, I told you. It still smarts.”

  “You are such a crybaby,” Georgie said, with a quick laugh.

  “Thanks to you and Cassie.”

  What would Cassie and she have done without Nick, she wondered? No one ever bullied them when Nick was around. She finished the haircut and shampooed him. As she blew his hair dry using her fingers instead of a brush, she accidentally rubbed the scar and he jerked way.

  “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay.”

  Georgie eyed the cut. If one comes up under an open drawer, you expect the cut more to the back of the head, she mused. This one was more to the side and front.

  “Do you want to call Cassie and April and have dinner?” he asked, jerking her back from her thoughts. “Or do you have a date?”

  Her sensors surfaced to full alert. He was fishing here, and she could see and hear another no-win situation lurking in his question. She had to find a benign answer, came up empty, and tip-toed her way. “Why would I have a date?”

  “Well, one: it’s Friday night and two: I just thought Dudley Do-Right would step up to the plate and be doing the smart thing.”

  Georgie put the blow dryer into its holder with a noisy shove, and looked into the mirror with a deep and loud warning breath. Was this why Mason asked to see her tonight? Had Nick bullied him into asking her? If so, why did Mason cancel? She leaned down close enough to smell the shampoo fragrance in Nick’s hair. “Just what did you say to him last night?” she hissed, keeping her voice as low as she could.

  When he tried to get up, she leaned one elbow on his shoulder to keep him in the chair. With that elbow still sitting heavy on the shoulder, her free hand took hold of his earlobe and began to twist slowly with intent.

  “Not the ear, Georgie, not the ear.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “Nothing!” He pulled away while rubbing his abused ear, his face crunching up. He kept his voice low as his eyes darted to those left in the salon then back at her. “I just wanted to make sure he found my Raggs. That’s all.”