Dirty Talk

by Lauren Landish

  I approach a stunning blonde woman whose highlights make me wonder who I’m up against in town. She’s seen someone with some good skills. Still, I know I can do better. I only hope that the people around Great Falls can tell the difference and be willing to pay for it too. I offer my hand and an introduction. “Hi! I’m McKayla, the Queen of Coifs, as my partner, Brad, calls me when he’s in a good mood. Nice to meet you.”

  She shakes back, a polite smile warming her face. “Nice to meet you, McKayla. I’m Rose, your neighbor from a few doors down. I own the Mountain Rose Boutique store. Welcome to the ‘hood!”

  “Thanks for the warm welcome. I’ll have to stop in to your store and see what you have. Admittedly, I get most of my stuff online, but it’d be great to get some things locally too.”

  “I’d love to have you come by. So, Brad’s your partner?”

  I laugh, glancing over my shoulder at Brad, who’s being himself and already has a woman in his makeup chair doing a demonstration of his skills. “Trust me, it’s not that kind of partnership. Brad’s not into women.”

  Rose chuckles. “So what does he call you when he’s not in a good mood?”

  I grin. “Let’s just say that Triple B has different meanings. I like to say it stands for Beautiful Badass Bitches. When Brad’s in a bad mood, the first two B’s can change to Basic Bossy Bitches, which is funny because we’re both anything but basic.”

  Rose giggles, and I feel that click that tells me I’ve made a friend. She smiles, and it’s smooth conversation, putting me right at ease that I’ve done the right thing moving here and setting up shop, especially since her highlights are apparently natural. Not too many people are that lucky, that’s for damn sure, and I’m doubly lucky that I don’t have to worry about competition.

  I shake hands with just about everyone, making sure I give the newspaper reporter plenty of good quotes. It’s easier than I thought. Talking with Rose has relaxed me, and I’m able to be more of myself. I try to avoid namedropping too much, but let’s face it, I’m trying to bring a little bit of Hollywood glamor, so I just try to be humble about it.

  After the newspaper guy finishes up, snapping a pair picture with me and Brad, Jaxson comes over offering a pleased smile. “Well, Councilman,” I say, grinning, “what do you think? Think we’ll add something to Great Falls?”

  “I’d say things look like they’re going very well—maybe even get you some new business right off the bat. And please remember, just call me Jaxson. Maybe I can be your first customer.”

  I nod politely, feeling like he’s being nice but getting a little tingle like he’s flirting a bit with me too. Normally, I don’t have a problem with it, but he just doesn’t do it for me. “Sure thing, Jaxson. Don’t want to steal you away from your current hairdresser, but I’d be happy to give you a cut and let you decide from there. I appreciate the city council welcoming us to town.”

  “I don’t think my current barber would be too upset since he cuts the hair of most of the guys in town,” he says. Jaxson smiles, and again, there’s something in that smile that ticks a little circuit in my brain. “But he’s not nearly as pretty as you are, so I think I’d likely choose you even if you shaved me bald.” He leans in to whisper conspiratorially, “But please don’t.”

  Yep, he’s definitely flirting with me now. I heard the compliment, but even as it’s an ego boost to be noticed, he just doesn’t light me up inside. No butterflies for the clean-cut guys. It’s one of the first things I learned about myself in high school when all the other girls were swooning over jocks and big-man-on-campus types. Those guys don’t do it for me.

  Nope, I might be silly and I might be weird, but give me a rebel with—or without—a cause, a hellion, the brooding misfit who never walked the straight and narrow. Yeah, that’s the guy who’ll get me going, even when I know from experience that it’s a bad fucking idea and only leads to heartbreak. But it gets me every time. At least they’re usually honest about their fucked-uppedness.

  My brain flips back to the asshole on the bike across the street. My eyes track over to the shop Brad told me he co-owns, but it’s closed. I can see the lights are on inside, so they must be open for business, but the big bay doors are pulled down. Yeah, that’s more my type of guy. Obviously, he’s got issues, including a huge one about nobody touching his damn bike.

  If only he weren’t an asshole. I have a moment of disappointment, but before I can analyze it too much, I realize Jaxson is still talking. “ . . . been on the council here for years, grew up down in the community college area, but came north after I graduated, and I never left. I’m hoping I can use my business degree and council experience for advantage and become mayor, then who knows? Maybe go bigger for a state rep seat.”

  I smile and nod, knowing that to most people, a sweet guy with ambition like Jaxson is a dream come true. He should be the type of guy every woman wants. He’s a respectable adult and all, but even tuning out for half of his speech, I’m already a teensy bit bored, if I’m honest with myself. All I can think of is the fact that any haircut I give this guy is going to be over styled, totally conservative, and as boring as watching what little grass there is underneath the front windows grow. It’ll be the kissing babies and shaking hands haircut, offensive to nobody except me and Brad.

  Still, I want to be polite, and a customer is a customer. “That’s quite a life plan you’ve got there, Jaxson. Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

  Jaxson gives me another grin. “Yep, a one, five, and ten-year plan. Got to have both short-term and long-term goals and chase them with focused drive, sheer will, and hard work. It’s all part of the secret, you know? You have to ask, then visualize and believe, and you’ll receive it. Law of attraction and all, you know?”

  I distractedly fidget with my necklace, knowing I’ve stepped in the deep end now. I realize I’ve made a mistake when Jaxson’s eyes zoom in on the beads, just inches away from my cleavage. Shit, didn’t mean to do that. I lower my hand, regretting my accidental signal. I get it. I’ve got some legit boobs . . . but not everyone gets to see them.

  “How about lunch after everyone filters out?” Jaxson asks. I’m just about to apologize and say no when he continues. “We can go to the diner and I can introduce you to most everyone in town. It’s a busy place for Saturday’s lunch rush.”

  I so don’t want to do this. I’d rather be in the salon, trying to make my impression the old-fashioned way, giving haircuts that’ll leave people stunned and customer service that’ll leave them wanting more. But looking around, I see no one waiting, and I know Brad can handle anything that happens. I sigh inside, knowing that I need to do this for the business connections.

  I don’t want to lead Jaxson on, but I do need to get out and get my face known. Suddenly, I’m struck with genius. To hell with it. We can officially open tomorrow. “You now what, Jaxson? That’d be great. Brad and I would really appreciate your introducing us to everyone. You really take your council role as welcome wagon seriously!”

  Before he can correct me, I turn, hollering to Brad. “Hey, honeybuns!” I draw out the word to emphasize the endearment on purpose. “Jaxson offered to introduce us to some folks over lunch. Isn’t that nice of him?”

  Brad looks at me, immediately hearing our code word for “rescue me” that has come in handy more than once at a club when a guy wouldn’t take the subtle hint and go away. It’s a desperate plan, but hey, whatever works.

  Brad straightens up, adding a little bit of bass to his voice. “Why yes, dear. That is rather nice.” He looks at me with a shit-eating grin and I know he got the message.

  I also know that once he and I get to hang out alone again, I’m so going to hear about this.

  Chapter 4

  Evan

  It’s mid-morning and I’m deep under an old Cadillac, checking every hose for a sneaky leak that keeps setting off the Check Engine light on Ms. Barnes’s car. She doesn’t drive it much, mostly just back and forth to tennis
at the club, so it should be all right, but about every two months, she brings it in with a little noise or a check she wants done after reading some shit on the Internet.

  But this Caddy is older than I am, which means it’s got more than a few demons of its own lurking under the hood. Thankfully, these old Caddies also have some elbow room in their frames and I’m not having to disentangle a damn Gordian knot in order to change an oil filter like I do with some of the newer Japanese and Korean cars.

  Whatever, it’s money in my pocket, and I really don’t want the woman stranded, even if I’m beginning to suspect she’s doing something to the car herself to set the light off. Is there such a thing as Munchausen by proxy to a car? Like, is she pouring sugar in the gas tank at night or chucking sand into the fan belts before she brings it in?

  I’m elbow deep, following a hose that I suspect has picked up a crack somewhere, when there’s a knock on the hood, scaring the shit outta me and making me jerk, damn near busting my forehead against the drive shaft.

  Dropping back to the creeper beneath me, I roll out from under the car, already pissed. “What the fuck? Could have busted my damn head since I’m working here, dumbass . . .”

  I stop as I realize it’s not TJ giving me shit but Old Earl from down the street, who’s already smiling at me, barely containing his laughter as he shoves his hands in the pockets of the overalls that are stretched across his big beer belly. Earl’s sort of the shop’s edition of the grapevine. He’s always good for a little bit of rumor, and he’s usually more reliable than the local news. Years ago, he used to be into cars too, but now he runs the family agricultural supply business . . . or at least pretends to. “Ooh, that was a good ‘un. Gotcha good, Mr. Evan.”

  I slide out from under the Caddy and get to my feet, resisting the urge to rub his shiny bald head. “Earl, we’ve talked about this. Evan, just Evan. You’re forty years older than me. You don’t need to call me mister.”

  He shakes his head in that country boy way of his, like what I said was half in a foreign language or just total silliness. “Ain’t nothing but a thing, son. I call everyone Mister or Missus or Miss—just how my momma raised me—and you ain’t gonna change it now. Whatcha doing?”

  I look at him like he’s crazy, because according to most folks, he really might be half-crazy. Then again, considering he took his father’s two-bit feed and grain and somehow turned it into the biggest agricultural supply dealer in the northern half of the state, maybe crazy like a fox would be a better description. I gesture back to the car, patting the curved fender like it’s an old friend. “Working on this Caddy for Ms. Barnes.”

  “Oh, that old bat?” he asks, and I’m not sure if he’s talking about the Caddy or Ms. Barnes. “She always seems to be leaking from both ends. What’s wrong this time?”

  I shrug and play it safe to assume he’s talking about the car. “Think she’s got a seal or hose that’s got a crack in it. Hey, shouldn’t you be at the store? It’s Monday morning, Earl . . . don’t you have shit to do?”

  Earl grins that same grin that used to adorn all the ads for his store, the one that kind of makes him look like a cross between a Gerber baby and a naughty garden gnome. “Best Monday ever, Mr. Evan. My youngest son opened today for the first time, and I’ve got the whole day off till I go in this afternoon for the closing shift.”

  Huh, that’s new. Earl’s the third generation of his family to run the store, but all three of his kids have reaped the benefits of having a multimillion-dollar company in the family without being at all interested in keeping it going. Then again, if half my job were selling seed and feed, I’d enjoy a different job too. Not that I’d choose an office job. That’s not me, but some of Earl’s supply just . . . smells. “So Bennie is working for you now? Well, congrats and all, but I’ve gotta get back to it here.”

  I’m hoping he hears the dismissal and leaves me to it. I don’t need to hear about Bennie. I’ve met the man when Earl brought him around to show him off like a prized pony. I think Earl thought I’d connect with Bennie because he did a couple of tours in the early years of Iraq so we have some shared ghosts. Earl does too, but his are older echoes from Vietnam, and he made peace with them long ago, enough to try to swap war stories a time or two, but I wasn’t interested.

  I just don’t want to go back there, not physically and definitely not mentally. Let the ghosts lie dormant and quiet as much as I can is my motto. Not that they stay quiet all the time.

  Earl doesn’t seem ready to leave, though. “I didn’t stop by for my health, boy. It’s shitty enough as it is. I stopped by to ask you a question.”

  I tilt my head at him and sigh. You never know what he’s going to come up with, so I try to wait patiently and see where he’s going, but I fail. “What’d you wanna ask? Because no, I don’t want to go to a meeting at the Elk Lodge for the fucking hundredth time.”

  Earl smiles again, somewhat sadly. “But one day, I’ll ask and you’ll say yes. So I’ll keep asking, Son. They helped Bennie too. There’s men there from my generation who saw service in ‘Nam, but also a new generation, your generation, who’ve seen other things. There’s men there that can help you, help with those demons you wear like shields to keep everyone and everything out.”

  He pauses meaningfully, staring into my eyes, then visibly lightens. “But that ain’t what I’m talking about right now. I came to ask you about the new folks across the street. You met ‘em yet? I heard it’s a man and a woman, but not a couple, judging by the gossip I hear.”

  The gossip he hears is everything—like I said, he’s our neighborhood’s own ‘Ms. Kravitz’ that keeps an eye on everyone and everything. Nothing happens around here without Earl knowing about it, so I know he’s well aware I already had a run-in with the salon owners.

  “Cut the crap, Earl,” I reply, grabbing a rag and wiping the mess off my hands. It’s one of those little things I picked up in the service. I have no problem getting dirty, but once that’s over, I’m a freak about clean hands. “You know I already met them, blew up, and ran her off too. Princess Pink Hair messed with my bike and then flipped me off like it was my fault.”

  Earl’s smile changes, like he’s just gotten a tasty morsel. Considering the size of his gut, he’s had his fair share. “Ahh, now see? That I didn’t know. I heard about the commotion but not what started it. So now I know . . . she touched your bike and you went nuclear. Seems like an overreaction, but what do I know? I never had no bike before.”

  I can feel the immediate tightness in my chest when he says I overreacted. I didn’t. My anger was totally justified, and even though she apologized, she expected it to just magically be okay like she didn’t just mess with the one thing keeping me sane right now.

  I silently fume, and Earl stares at me, appraising me like he often has before, and I know he can see the darkness that surrounds me like smoke.

  Smoke—that’s what I need. Goddammit, I hate this habit, but I can’t help it. When the caffeine doesn’t work, nicotine often will.

  I walk past him to the open bay door, grabbing a pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter off the work table as I go. I lean against the door frame, covering the tip as I light the cigarette that is both killing me slowly and making some moments more manageable.

  Earl walks over, and I offer him one out of the pack, holding the lighter up as he inhales. He looks at me with a cocked eyebrow for a moment before speaking. “You know, Son, I’m not one to judge. My generation, we grew up thinking these things were actually good for you. You ain’t hooked, I can tell that. What gives?”

  After a few puffs, I give in. “I need them. They help me focus, the routine of breathe in, hold it, breathe out. Like it’s fucking meditative or some shit. When a cig isn’t enough, I ride. It’s the only way I can outrun what’s inside sometimes. And I figure it’s a lot better than hard drinking or getting into fights.”

  Earl nods sagely. “For Bennie, he goes down to the community college area three times a week to s
ome gym where he rolls around in pajamas and chokes people or something. A man needs a way to be free from the demons. Sometimes, it’s best to run. But eventually, you gotta turn around and fight them, beat them into submission. That’s what Bennie says, and I’ll gladly take credit for teaching him that one.”

  Earl’s probably got a point. He may have never had a motorcycle, but he’s got his demons and he’s battled and fought them for a lot of days. There are reasons all of his children except Bennie don’t want to go into the family business and why he’s been divorced three times. So I grunt an acknowledgement, and he takes that as progress for the day.

  I swear Earl thinks I’m his pet project or something, but he hasn’t recognized that I’m broken far worse than he knows and I’m not fixable. Each man who comes back broken is broken differently, and I’m not Bennie. This Humpty-Dumpty is shattered from the inside out, and nobody's gonna put me back together again. Best thing I can hope for is to keep going day by day, and when I do explode or go over the edge, I do it in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone else.

  Earl is willing to let it go for now. “So, back to the original topic at hand. The new salon folks? Seems after their ribbon cutting ceremony, Jaxson took them down to the diner and showed them off like prize-winning hogs, introducing them around.”

  The fact that he doesn’t use ‘mister’ for Jaxson isn’t lost on me, as Earl has repeatedly said that Jaxson sets his Spidey senses on alert. I’ve met the man too, the last time when he brought his car in for some work on the air conditioner, and he just seems like a political huckster type, a little too polished to be legitimate. His smile, his laugh, and his handshake all seem just a little too practiced, like he works at it in the mirror at home until it’s just right.

  “Yeah, so?” I grunt. Personal qualms about Jaxson aside, his taking them around and introducing them is just his sort of schtick.