I considered going shorter and bolder, more edgy. I missed my shoulder-length bob, but this chick was emo. Conservative was best. A quick trim and I’d be out of this joint. “Just a trim, please.”
“Sure, honey.” She didn’t even bother to shampoo it first, just doused me with spritzes of cool water from her spray bottle. I looked like a drowned rat when she was through pumping. She combed my hair, parted it in the middle, and then grabbed her scissors. “So,” she began, positioning her first cut. “How do you know Colt?”
“Colt?”
She scoffed. “Don’t play dumb with me, honey. I might talk slow but my brain works real fast.”
“I know Willy and Rose but no Colt, Lynn.”
In true bitch fashion, she rolled her eyes and stared me down. “You were just flirting with him out there,” she yelled, stabbing her scissors toward the big glass window of the store. She was a lefty. An angry, hair-cutting lefty.
“Officer Stone?”
“Yes,” she huffed. “Colt Stone.”
I giggled and she dug the too long fingernails of her right hand into my shoulder. “Sounds like that ice cream chain, Cold Stone Creamery.” I chuckled again, unable to hold it back, and then apologized. Sort of.
She smiled and stood up straight, releasing my flesh from her talons. “It’s no problem. Just telling you he’s unavailable, is all.”
Then she proceeded to take a huge hunk of hair off my head. “Oops,” she snarled.
“Oh, hell no!” I jumped up, ripping the backwards superman cape off. This bitch did not just cut me bald!
The two middle-aged women came and stood behind Lynn, who just smiled sweetly. “I accidently cut it too short. Damn my left hand.” My, she was a slick one. And if I didn’t think the Colt Stone Creamery would take me to jail, I’d have throat punched her and launched those scissors into the wall like a damn ninja star.
Mustering every bit of pride left in my body, I hurled the cape at the three of them and marched out of the salon with my head held high. Crossing the street, I felt for the enormous chunk of hair, or the spot where my hair once was, and a high, keening noise came from my throat. I might not get revenge on her now, but she’d better watch her back. I might just tie her to that chair and shave her eyebrows off.
Willy was out front watering the freshly-sodded yards when I came back. We only watered stuff in the evenings in Vegas. He was gonna kill it. But I held my tongue.
“Thought you were getting a haircut,” he yelled.
I just turned around.
He turned the hose off with a squeak and was at my side in an instant. “Oh, no! Who did this to you?”
“Lynn,” I said, hating that my voice wavered. It was my hair! If she’d have cut it short enough to salvage, curving it into a makeshift bob, I wouldn’t have cared. But this four-inch section, where my hair used to be, was up against my scalp.
“Why would she do a thing like that?” he pondered.
“She’s a hateful bitch?” I offered with a sniffle.
Willy put his arm around me and led me to my condo, promising to be right back. Whatever he had to do didn’t take but a couple of minutes. When he knocked and I let him in, I saw that he’d come with scissors and a pair of clippers. “I ain’t used to women’s hair, but I cut hair in the Navy. I can fix it, I think. I’ve seen that Miley Cyrus.”
I stiffened. “Willy, I swear to all that’s holy that if you make me look like Miley, I’ll turn those clippers against you in the worst imaginable way.”
He shrugged my comment off, but I didn’t miss the way his hands shook a bit when he began cutting away at my hair; huge chunks of blond falling onto the floor.
Later that night, I walked to the Piggly Wiggly. They had four hair colors to choose from, so I chose a dark brown with auburn highlights. No more blond. It reminded me of Lynn and youth and all the things I was growing to hate. Most of it was gone now anyway; my hair shaved except for a long section on the right that did curl into an asymmetrical bob. In all honesty, it was cute and a bit sassy. I wasn’t in love with it, but the meh feeling I’d had lately made sure I wasn’t in love with anything. Maybe I needed Prozac.
Me, my new hair, and my box of Lucky Charms curled up on the furnished, light gray couch and watched the furnished flat screen TV, wishing that the owner had also furnished a new life, or at least a set of paints and brushes.
A loud crash pulled me from my pity party and over toward the window. A built guy with cargo shorts and a t-shirt that fit snugly over taut biceps and loosely over his abs cursed at the tailgate of an old, red pickup truck. I couldn’t see his face since he wore a ball cap, but I could read his body language. Some pieces of plywood had fallen out of the bed of his truck as he drove it.
He could probably use another pair of hands. I glanced at my pair. One held the curtain back and parted the blinds. Damn it, I’d become Flo. The other clutched the box of Lucky Charms like she was keeping the wee leprechaun inside the box.
Freaking cereal. I deposited the box on the kitchen table, put on my tennis shoes, and went out to help him. But not before grabbing the cereal and taking it with me. Sure, it was dinner time and I was eating only the marshmallows from the box, but don’t judge me. It had been a freakishly bad day.
“Hey,” I said, so I didn’t scare the crap out of him, “You need some help?”
When he stood up and turned around, he was as surprised as I was. “Officer Stone?”
“Brooklyn?”
I hugged the box of Lucky Charms to my chest like a shield. “What are you doing here?” we both asked at the same time. Willy popped up from the bushes like a total creeper.
“Hey, boss! This is your new tenant,” he beamed.
A sly smile slowly spread across Stone’s face. “Really?”
“Really,” Willy confirmed.
Inwardly, I festered. Damn it, Willy. Why didn’t you tell me Stone was the Boss Man you kept talking about?
My stink eye found Willy, who was somehow unaffected by its powers. He chuckled and then the two men proceeded to stack the giant plywood squares into the back of the trunk one at a time. I should’ve stayed inside. It would have been safer than seeing Stone’s biceps ripple and the way sweat droplets clung to the short hairs near his neck.
“If you want a show, pull up a chair, sweetheart,” he teased.
I smiled sweetly and thanked him, pulling an Adirondack chair over and sinking into it. Lucky Charms marshmallows never tasted so good.
Four-thirty couldn’t have come sooner. The city was packed and finding a parking space had been tragic. Luckily, the rental was tiny and I was able to squeeze it into what seemed like one of the last available spaces in a garage only a few blocks away. That was after I’d already driven up, down, and around four other parking garages, who swore they had available spaces. Liars. Dirty Liars.
As I meandered at the feet of Abe Lincoln, two strong arms wrapped around me from behind. “Shane!” I squeaked and turned around to snake my arms around his neck. I breathed in deeply and reveled in the feel of him.
“I’ve missed you, Sin.”
“Missed you, too,” I murmured into his neck.
“Is your dad meeting us for dinner?”
I nodded. “Yeah. He made reservations at a quiet restaurant named Shay’s. We should have some privacy there, he said.”
Shane nodded. “What time’s dinner?”
“Not until six.”
“Thank fuck. Let’s go. Now.”
Shane almost jerked my arm out of its socket. “Where are we going? We just got here!”
He stopped with a growl and pressed his face so close to mine I could smell his sweet breath fan over me. “I haven’t had you for over a week. I want dessert before dinner, baby.”
Well, okay then.
***
It was awkward seeing my father, um, dad. It was weird calling him dad, much less trying to hug or accept hugs from him. We spoke on occasion, but a certain amount of damage had
been done. Too many scars, I guessed. So I was happy when Shane took the reins as we sat down across from him at dinner.
“You know Brooklyn’s situation?” Shane started without preamble.
My father adjusted the napkin on his lap and looked up. “If you’re speaking of the reports of a stalker, then yes. If you’re referring to the vandalism charge, then yes, as well.”
“We’re talking about the freak who’s hunting her, leaving weird shit everywhere and stealing panties from her apartment,” I intervened.
My father’s eyes grew wide. “When you called and mentioned that you might need my help in regards to Brooklyn, I had a friend check it out.”
Of course he did.
“It’s a very disturbing situation. I trust that she’s safe since you left town with her and haven’t returned?” I nodded and he continued. “That was smart on your behalf. The situation was escalating and getting dangerous. Above all, I’m glad you aren’t in harm’s way.”
Shane cleared his throat when the server approached with our drinks and took our orders. When she turned her attention to the table behind us, we continued our conversation.
“Riley is trying to help and has a friend who is very good with computers and data,” Shane began. “He found a similar pattern with two other female victims in Arizona. Those cases are closed at the moment because no further evidence was found. They couldn’t proceed with the investigations and they went cold.”
Father perked up, weaving his fingers together. “I’m listening.”
“The guy even followed the girls to New York, but they lost him there. He’s left her all sorts of things, but one thing stood out: a tie tack, engraved with a very unique symbol.”
“What symbol?” Father asked, his eyes narrowing.
Shane leaned forward, his forearms on the table. “It’s old. Some sort of Scottish family crest for Hunter. It looks like this.” He pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket. On it was a crudely drawn, upside-down broadsword, with a sun and its rays at the bottom near the tip. A snake curled its way up the blade, its mouth swallowing the hilt. “The tack itself was worn, so Riley had a friend make an imprint and reverse-manufacture a new one. It should be finished any day.”
My father stared at the image. “His last name is Hunter, or he is a hunter?”
Chills spread down my spine. Shane shook his head. “We aren’t sure.”
They thought they knew it all. Riley, whom they thought was hot on the case, was an amateur. Of course he did figure out the Hunter symbol, given to me by my grandfather, which had belonged to his grandfather. But even with that, he would never be able to determine my identity. However, I would have to be more careful with the gifts I bestowed upon Brooklyn.
I needed to find her, to tell her how I felt about her and make her mine.
So I listened.
I heard Shane ask Morgan about their location. “Where is this place, Sin?”
She hesitated. “It’s not too far. Just a little over an hour and a half. It’s a very small town and Brook seems to really like it. I think it’s what she needed the most; just a break from everything in Vegas.”
The men never pressed her for the town’s name or questioned her further.
Shane asked her to stay in the city for another day or so with him and she agreed quickly, warning that she had to go shopping for paint and supplies. No doubt those were for Brooklyn.
Slipping out of the restaurant after settling my bill, I made my way outside to the rental Morgan had arrived in. Inside the inner pocket of my jacket was a tiny device. Reaching beneath the underside of her bumper, I felt the magnet adhere and proceeded to my car. Their conversation may not have led me to her, but Morgan would in just a few short days.
My cell phone vibrated in my bra, so I went for it. I thought Colt was too busy lifting heavy stuff to notice, but he apparently saw me and wore that ever-present southern boy smirk on his face. It was a good look on him. Sigh.
The text was from Morg.
Staying in the city for a couple of days until supplies can be shipped here
Me: Is that code for Shane flew in to see you?
Morg: He’s so romantic
Me: And horny
Morg: And horny. LOL!
Me: Lucky bitch
Morg: ;)
Colt Stone was a ninja, stealthy like a cat. He snuck up behind me and was reading my conversation with Morgan. “Excuse me!”
He just chuckled. “You havin’ a dry spell, sweetheart? I can probably find someone to help you out in that area.”
Willy coughed back a laugh.
“Shut up, Willy. You’re supposed to be on my side. We bonded today, remember?”
“I like your hair,” Colt said, surprising me. “I liked the long blonde, but this is more you.”
“More me?”
“Yeah. Sexy, a bit sassy and dangerous.”
I snorted. “That’s what I was going for. Make sure you thank your girlfriend for me. She did a helluva job.”
Colt stiffened. “Lynn cut your hair?”
Willy straightened his back and started toward the pair of us like a referee, arms slightly extended, as if they would keep us from tearing each other apart. The thing was, he didn’t need to worry. My beef wasn’t with Colt; it was with his girlfriend. And I was going to find many, many ways to make her wish she had never butchered my hair. “I helped, too,” Willy added with a nervous smile.
I gave Willy a hug, dropping my box of Lucky Charms on the ground in the process. “And I love you for that. That’s what friends are supposed to do. They’re supposed to be there for one another in happy times and in the times when you want to kick scissor-happy bitches in the lady bits.”
Colt smiled questioningly. “Lady bits?”
“True story. Thanks, Willy. Anyway. . . I guess you fellas didn’t need backup after all.”
Colt puffed his chest up and scoffed. “Backup. We’ve got this. Right, Willy?”
Willy smiled and shook his head, but agreed, “Whatever you say, boss.”
As my front door’s hinge squealed out into the night, I turned and yelled, “Hey Willy, is that pool okay to swim in now?”
“Yes ma’am, and I, for one, can’t wait to see you in a bathing suit!”
A stiff swat from Colt had the old man rubbing his bicep. “What’d I say?” he asked his boss.
The back of my hand met Willy’s arm. He pursed his lips and grabbed his bicep, asking, “What’d I say?”
“You said you wanted to see her naked!”
Willy snickered and his eyes glazed over. He was picturing her. Hell, now I was picturing her. His raspy voice broke the silence. “I didn’t say naked, boss. I said I couldn’t wait to see her in a bathing suit.”
Grumbling, I retorted, “It’s almost the same thing.”
Willy walked to the truck bed and rested his forearms on the edge. “I wouldn’t mind seeing her naked.” He clutched his chest. “Not sure this old ticker could take that, though. Hoo-wee!” I threw an old greasy rag at him and he laughed. “It’s true!”
I just smiled. Then I remembered what she said about Lynn cutting her hair and Willy helping her out. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened, but Lynn and me…we weren’t a thing. I told her from the beginning that we were just friends with benefits. I wasn’t looking for a commitment and I definitely didn’t want to get serious. She could see other people. She always swore she was fine with that arrangement, but somewhere along the way, feelings had apparently developed—on her part—and things got messy.
“I need to talk to Lynn.” Willy was easy to confide in. He listened well and wasn’t afraid to tell you when you were doing something wrong or stupid. He didn’t beat around the bush. Hell, the man barely had a filter at all.
“You do. She’s scary.”
“Scary?” I smiled.
“Damn near scalped Brooklyn. Yeah, I’d say she’s scary. Like the weirdo in that movie.” He snapped his fingers a
s if the sound would jog his memory. It must have worked, because he continued, “Edward Scissorhands! Yeah, she’s like Edwina Scissorhands.”
I raised my eyebrows and then wiped the sweat from beneath the bill of my ball cap. “Edwina Scissorhands.”
“Um-hm.”
I looked back up at Willy, who just stared at Brooklyn’s condo like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “What’s up?”
“Don’t know exactly, but somethin’ ain’t right with her.”
“With Brooklyn? Why do you say that?”
He pinned me with a dumbass-please look and I stared at Brooklyn’s condo with him, as if the answers to the riddle that was Brooklyn Harris would suddenly appear, written on the white siding. Willy started talking out loud, mostly to himself, but this time I listened. “What kind of girl up and leaves her home and a good paying job to come here? What kind of girl is tough enough to ignore the gossips and a near-beheading and keep her head up? Whatchu hidin’, Miss Brooklyn?”
As if on cue, the upstairs bedroom light flickered on. I couldn’t see her, but I could see her shadow. She was undressing and I knew I was being a complete pervert, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. When I did, I saw Willy with a smile stretched across his face, watching unabashedly. “Willy,” I warned.
He shrugged. “Can’t help it, boss. It’s the manther in me.”
“Manther?” Now, Willy had said a lot of weird stuff over the years, but this was a term I wasn’t familiar with.
“Yeah. Manther. You know how old ladies, when they go prowlin’ for fresh meat, they’re called Cougars?”
I coughed, trying to cover a laugh and failing miserably. “Yeah.”
“Well, when an old man is prowlin’, he’s a manther—like a man-panther. Part man, part beast. He can’t help it. It’s just who he is. Time ain’t on his side anymore, so he prowls. Always on the hunt.”
I swear the man growled after that speech, sending me into a fit of laughter. Willy huffed, standing up straight. “What? You think I can’t get a woman? I can get a woman and I could even teach you a thing or two, boy.”
Temptation, The Complete Serial Series 1-4 (The Temptation Serial Series) Page 6