by Naomi Niles
“Settling down?” I said. “I didn’t think you were concerned with that.”
“I didn’t think I was either,” he admitted. “I thought I was perfectly content to spend my life working until I dropped dead.”
“But?”
“But if I was really so content with that future, then why do I feel so conflicted lately?” he said, almost as though he were talking to himself.
“John-”
“Don’t you ever think it might be nice to have something permanent?” he asked, interrupting me.
“We do have something permanent,” I pointed out. “We have this house and we have each other.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” John said in frustration. “I’m talking about something that’s completely our own. Something we don’t have to share with one another.”
“Like a wife?” I asked. “Like a child?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “I know this sounds strange.”
“Really strange,” I said.
“But you can’t tell me you’ve never thought about this before now?” he asked, ignoring my interruption.
“I can’t say that I have,” I said stubbornly.
“Bullshit,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You had to think about it because of Dana. She wanted a commitment from you.”
“And, we broke up because I wasn’t willing to give her the kind of commitment she needed,” I pointed out. “It was for the best.”
“She’s married, you know.”
I glanced up at John in surprise. “How do you know that?”
“I ran into her a few weeks ago,” he said.
“Are you serious?” I asked. “You never mentioned it.”
“Because I didn’t know if you wanted to hear about her,” John said. “She was in town for a few days visiting her parents and I ran into her at the grocery store. She’s been married almost a year now.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” he said. “Is that it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“How does that make you feel?”
“You’re a surgeon, John,” I reminded him. “Not a shrink.”
“Do you not care that she’s married?”
“No,” I said, putting down the knife I was using for the butter. “I don’t care. I forfeited my right to care the moment I ended things with her. Listen, John: if you want to meet a girl, by all means, just go for it. Get out there and meet some women. Ask Sam to take you to one of his clubs. Just leave me out of it.”
I could feel my brother’s eyes on me, but I avoided him and continued with breakfast.
“Mom leaving really screwed us all up, didn’t it?” John said quietly after a moment.
I ignored him and threw two pieces of egg-soaked bread onto the largest frying pan we owned. A few minutes later, breakfast was ready, and I set down a huge plate of French toast between John and myself.
“Smells good,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said politely.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t upset me,” I said, in a tone that was more heated than it needed to be. “I just…don’t like talking about Mom.”
“Aren’t you curious about her at all?” John asked in amazement. “Don’t you want to understand why she left?”
“No,” I said. “She left. That’s all I really need to know.”
He nodded after a moment. “I guess I was just thinking about Alan, and how much happier he is now that Jessica’s in his life. He told me that he was scared of having a serious relationship, too, because he was scared of getting hurt.
“I guess that got me thinking. It would be a shame to miss out on something great just because we were all scared of marrying someone like our mother.”
“Luckily, I don’t believe in that Freudian bullshit,” I said. “I just like being alone. Sometimes, it’s as simple as that.”
“Okay,” John nodded, letting the subject drop.
We ate our breakfast in silence. As much as I tried to prevent the thoughts, John had opened up the floodgates. I kept drifting over to images of my mother. I kept seeing her electric, hazel eyes, eyes that John, Sam, and I had all inherited. I kept seeing her soft, brown hair and the way she used to push it back behind her ears to keep it from her face. I kept seeing the little gestures that I had grown up with.
I remembered that she used to tuck me into bed and run her hands through my hair. I remembered that she used to hum under her breath when she made breakfast. I remembered that she used dance by herself when she folded the laundry. I didn’t want to remember any of those things, but they stuck in my head like thorns and refused to be budged.
It was simpler back then. I didn’t have anyone to worry about or take care of, including myself. I didn’t have to think about the future or plan for anything. I just went through life knowing I had a mother who would take care of everything for me. It was short-lived, but while it had lasted, I had been free. I had been free of responsibility and duty and obligation.
Now, that was all my life consisted of. I couldn’t remember the last time I had met anyone new or done anything remotely fun.
“If we started now, we could have the foundation finished by evening,” John said, making an attempt at switching gears and changing subjects.
“Sure,” I nodded. “And maybe afterwards we could go over and introduce ourselves to the new neighbor.”
I could feel John’s eyes on me, but all he said was, “Sure.”
Chapter Six
Madison
“Okay, Madison,” I told myself. “You can do this. Be charming, confident, and funny, and you might have a chance of landing this job.”
I had decided to leave Polo at the house, mainly because I didn’t want create the impression that I was a crazy dog owner who refused to go anywhere without her pet. I desperately wanted to get this job, and I knew that first impressions counted.
With that in mind, I had opted for jeans, a white t-shirt, and a red blazer. I left twisted my hair into a messy side braid and put on a touch of rouge, mascara, and gloss to finish the look.
I drove through Fort Collins, keeping my eyes open for landmarks. It was strange driving around a new town. Nothing was familiar, and it was overwhelming.
It didn’t help that Kameron’s message from the night before still lingered at the back of my head. I had spent a restless night tossing and turning in my sleeping bag because of it.
“Stop it,” I told myself firmly. “Worrying is not going to help. Stick to the plan and you’ll be okay.”
It took me a half hour to locate Whitney’s Beauty Salon, nestled between a bakery and an IT store. I parked and sat in the SUV for nearly ten minutes, trying to get a hold of my nerves. When I felt a little less tense, I took a deep breath and headed inside.
There was one person behind the desk. She was a petite young woman with dark eyes and dark hair. She glanced up as I entered and gave me a warm smile.
“Welcome to Whitney’s,” she greeted, assuming I was a client. “What can I help you with today?”
“Hi,” I smiled. “I’m actually here to speak to someone about the job vacancy. I heard you were hiring.”
“Oh, sure,” the girl nodded. “You’ll need to speak to Whitney. Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll let her know you’re here. Can I have your name please?”
“Madison,” I replied.
She nodded and walked through a door at the back of the small salon. Minutes later, she re-emerged with a slender woman whose jet-black hair held streaks of bright purple.
“Hello,” she said brightly as she approached me. “I’m Whitney, the owner. Lola here tells me your name is Madison?”
“That’s right,” I nodded, as I rose from my seat. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“And, you,” Whitney nodded. Then she leaned forward and hugged me without warning, taking me completely by surprise. I wondered if everyone in Fort Collins was just that friendly or i
f that behavior was exclusive only to Whitney.
“You’re pretty,” she said, looking at my face as though she was appraising me. “And you have great hair.”
“Umm…thanks,” I laughed, taken off guard.
“It’s the first impression, you know; when a person walks into a hair salon, they want to see that the hairdressers have decent hair. That’s what I’ve always looked for.”
I smiled, warming to Whitney’s vibrant personality immediately. “Come on,” she said, gesturing me to follow her. “Step into my office.”
Her office turned out to be a tiny room in the back with whitewashed walls and glamour shots of famous supermodels with outrageous hairstyles. She sat behind her little white desk and gave me a bright smile.
“Tell me about yourself,” Whitney started. “Do you have experience with hair styling?”
I took a little internal breath. “I worked in a salon for four years, and it was one of the best jobs I ever had. I loved meeting new people, and I loved experimenting with new hairstyles. And, I loved the laidback atmosphere; it just puts you in a good mood.”
“I agree,” she nodded. “That’s why I decided to start one.”
“Your hair looks amazing by the way,” I complimented. “That’s a tough style to pull off.”
“Thank you,” she said, inclining her head to me. “I thought it suited me. Now, can I ask what made you interested in hair styling?”
“To be honest, at the time I just fell into it,” I admitted. “I was nineteen and in desperate need of a job. I was trying to put myself through college and needed the money. I tried a bunch of different places, but no one was hiring.
“Then, I stumbled on this tiny salon smack dab in the middle of nowhere and it had a sign in the window that said they were hiring.
“I went in and asked about the job. I had a quick interview with the owner, and he told me that he’d hire me as a cleaner. So basically, I spent the next few weeks sweeping up everyone’s hair from the floor.”
Whitney cringed. “I started that way, too,” she said. “I certainly don’t miss it.”
I shrugged. “To be honest, I was just grateful to find a job with half-decent pay. I was good at cleaning in any case, and I had a knack with people.”
“How did you start cutting hair?”
“It happened by accident,” I admitted. “I was forced to open the salon one morning, and I was the only one there when one of the regulars walked in. Her name was Harriet Koons, and she was this eccentric, middle-aged woman with a wicked sense of humor. I told her that Jess was running late because of some accident on the freeway, and she’d have to wait about an hour.”
“Let me guess…she wanted you to cut her hair?” Whitney asked.
“Yup,” I nodded. “She had watched me observing Jess and Jerry when they cut hair and figured she didn’t care enough about her appearance to be bothered if I did a terrible job.”
“Good reasoning.”
“I thought so,” I laughed. “She was the one that talked me into cutting her hair.”
“How did it go?”
“Terrible actually,” I admitted. “I was so nervous, I took a big chuck of her hair off. But in the end, I managed to fix it. She walked out of the salon with a stylish bob by the time I was done with her. She was actually quite thrilled. It was the biggest tip I’d ever gotten.”
“And your boss was…”
“Pleasantly surprised,” I said. “He was a little shocked when he walked in and saw me with scissors in hand, but he calmed down when he realized it had been Harriet’s idea.
“After she left, he told me that I wasn’t half bad and he’d be open to training me if I was interested. Within a few months, I was an expert at cutting and styling hair. I realized that I actually enjoyed it.”
“And, you stuck with it for four years?”
“Up until I was twenty-three.”
“What happened after that?”
I hesitated a moment, wondering how much to tell Whitney. I decided to be safe rather than sorry. After all, this woman could potentially be my boss. “I just wanted to switch gears a little,” I said. “My brother needed my help and I needed to move out of that neighborhood. The commute would have killed me, so I was forced to leave the salon.”
“That’s a shame,” Whitney said. “Did you work for any other salons after that?”
“The new neighborhood that I moved into didn’t really have many options for beauty salons,” I admitted. “And, the only one on the block wanted some sort of degree or certificate, which I didn’t have.”
Whitney nodded. “Well, I have a good feeling about you,” she said decisively. “I think you’ll fit in great here.”
“Does that mean you’re hiring me?” I blurted out.
She smiled. “I think so.”
“Oh wow,” I breathed in relief. “Thank you so much. You won’t regret this decision.”
“Oh, I’ve never really regretted any of my decisions,” she said. “Even when they turned out to be mistakes. I’m just not one of those people.”
I sighed. “I wish I could say the same.”
Whitney laughed. “I assume you’re new in town?”
“Very new,” I nodded. “I drove in last night…or early this morning, depending on how you look at it.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I rented this tiny one bedroom house out in Forest Hills.”
“Forest Hills?” Whitney repeated. “There’s only one available house out there, unless the Burbank boys have moved.”
“Andy Wilkins is my landlord,” I said.
“I’m not familiar with him,” she said, with a sly smile on her face. “But I am somewhat familiar with the Burbank boys. You might want to be careful with them.”
“Oh?” I said in confusion. “I haven’t met any of them yet. Actually, I haven’t even seen them. Are they brothers?”
“I don’t think they all live in that house anymore,” Whitney said. “I know that two of the five brothers still do, though… the two oldest ones.”
“How do you know them?” I asked curiously.
“How does anyone know about anyone?” Whitney asked. “Gossip. But in the case of Burbank boys, they all have prominent jobs. The oldest one is a plastic surgeon, the second one is a cop, the third one is a firefighter, and the fourth one is an Olympic athlete. He actually won Gold in Rio recently.”
“Really?” I said impressed. “What’s his name?”
“Alan Burbank,” Whitney replied.
“Sounds vaguely familiar,” I nodded.
“Fort Collins was plastered with posters of his face during the Olympics this year,” she laughed. “It was crazy.”
“What about the fifth one?”
“Huh?”
“You said there were five brothers?”
“Oh, right,” she nodded. “I don’t know much about him. He’s probably the reclusive black sheep of the family. But I did catch a glimpse of him at last year’s carnival, and he’s won the Burbank lottery…five for five. It’s a pretty impressive genetic pool.”
“Umm, I don’t know what that means.”
Whitney laughed. “They’re good-looking men,” she explained. “All five of them. They’re all tall, broad shouldered, and well built. That’s probably part of the reason why there is this strange sense of fascination with the Burbank boys.”
“Ah…but why did you say I needed to be careful of them?” I asked.
“Their mother split when they were young and their father died a couple of years later,” Whitney explained. “They have issues.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” I said, thinking of my situation and feeling a stab of sympathy for the faceless Burbank boys.
Whitney nodded and laughed. “You have a point. Now, I would really like you to start working as soon as possible. It’s just me holding down the fort at the moment and another pair of hands would really help me out.”
“I can start immediately,” I
said willingly.
“Excellent,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s head to the front.”
“Are you planning on hiring more girls?” I asked.
“Just one more to start,” Whitney nodded. “I can’t afford to hire too many people right off the bat. I just started this place and want to keep my overhead as low as possible.”
The moment we stepped out into the salon area, Whitney pushed me forward and raised her voice. “Lola, I’d like to introduce you to the newest member of our little family,” Whitney said brightly. “This is Madison.”
“I know, Whitney,” Lola replied calmly. “I’m the one who told you her name.”
“I was going for a dramatic announcement,” she complained, rolling her eyes at Lola.
“There’s no reason to be dramatic at all when your hair looks like that,” Lola replied pleasantly.
“You’re such a bitch,” she sighed. “I don’t know why I hired you.”
“Cause I’m cheap?”
“Oh yeah,” Whitney nodded. “I knew I had a reason. Now come on, Madison, let me show you the ropes.”
And just like that, I felt at home.
I spent a pleasant few hours with Whitney and Lola, learning everything Whitney’s tiny salon had to offer. I drove back home at the end of the day with the music blaring and my mood soaring high. I had just parked the SUV when I noticed movement in my peripheral vision. I looked through the back mirror.
Two men were bending over the giant collection of lumber I had seen the night before. They were both tall and well built, and I recognized them immediately as the attractive Burbank boys from Whitney’s description. The shorter of the two brothers turned and walked back into the house while the other one started cutting the lumber with experienced precision.
He turned to the side, and I caught sight of his face. He was wearing dark work pants and a tight gray t-shirt that was drenched in sweat and clung to his body. I felt my pulse race slightly as I realized how incredibly attractive he looked with that hammer in his hand and the muscles of his arms flexed in exertion.
Polo’s bark was the only thing that shook me out of my ogling and it was only then that I realized that I’d just spent ten minutes staring at the man in the gray t-shirt. Snapping myself out of it, I grabbed my bag and headed for the front door.