by Portia Gray
Quentin and Calvin were in the driveway, waiting to bid her farewell. She gave Calvin a kiss goodbye, and Quentin assured her they'd be just fine. No more bike rides, which she knew damn well was a lie because Quentin was grinning and his eyes were twinkling in a way that was downright attractive.
"And don't worry about us," Mandy assured Calvin by mussing his hair, which he didn't seem to mind and that was surprising to Arielle. When she did it he usually groaned and tried to get away. "I'll take good care of Aunt Arielle."
"You better," Quentin warned, leaning over and giving Mandy a kiss on the cheek. It seemed casual, like they did it all the time, but Arielle felt a bizarre twinge of jealousy. Then he head-jerked in Arielle's direction. "That's my girl."
Arielle bristled. In no way did she feel like Quentin's girl, a ridiculous reaction considering she just got jealous of him kissing Mandy on the damn cheek, but Mandy smiled. "I know, honey. I'll get her home safe and sound."
Arielle waved goodbye to the boys, then climbed up into the passenger seat of Mandy's pink car.
As they drove, Mandy broke out the spiel and Arielle surprisingly couldn't feel angry as she spoke. "I'll lay it out for you, Arielle," Mandy started. "I was ready to hate you when I showed up here, I thought you were playing Quentin for a fool. And he's not easily tricked by a slip of gash. Okay, sometimes he is. But I was sure you were scary-dangerous. Then I met you."
Arielle blinked. "Oh?"
"I’ve got no idea what's going on. And it's a rare for me to keep my nose out of things. One thing I can tell you is he might be confusing, but what you see is what you get. He doesn't have it in him to pretend to be anything he's not. He can get laid anytime he wants; as long as he's not picky he's never chased tail. He's chasing you, which makes you not tail. And Quentin doesn't play games. If he…says something, he means it."
Arielle nodded. "Okay."
"As you can tell, I don't mince words and I don't play games, either. Quentin is important to me. We've been friends for a long time and I got a lotta love for him. But this trip today is about more than me making nice to the girl next door."
"I'm not sure—"
"I wanna do something nice for you," Mandy blurted, darting a look at Arielle before returning eyes to the road. It almost seemed as though she was nervous, just a little bit. "And it's not just because of what you're going through, although that should be reason enough for anyone. I want to do something nice for you because it'll make Quentin happy, too. And it'll make meeting the rest of the club easier."
Arielle frowned. "I'm not sure I follow."
"You're an outsider, I get that. And I need you to pay attention. Quentin has decided you're important to him. Which means you're important to all of us because of our love and respect for him. That's all you need to know. So because I love him to death, I'm doing something nice for you, and I need you to just let me do it and not fight me on it. Do I have your agreement?"
"Without knowing what I'm agreeing to?"
Mandy smirked. "You're quick. That's good. Now just agree. Being nice isn't exactly in my genetics, so just say 'Okay' before I break out in a rash."
"Okay," she said on a laugh, still leery trusting her but willing to go with the flow for the moment.
Mandy pulled the car to a stop in front of a beauty salon, and turned to Arielle with her elbow on the wheel.
"Are we…getting our hair done?" Arielle guessed, very confused.
"You're going in for chemo, honey," Mandy said carefully, reaching out and pulling her ponytail gently. "This mane of yours is amazing. It's gonna fall out." She nodded to the salon. "There's a lady here that makes wigs from real hair. I think you should prepare to lose that hair and turn it into something really amazing before it's too late." Arielle likely went pale, suddenly feeling tricked, trapped and absolutely horrified at the same time. And Mandy knew it. "Relax, honey. There's no need to be embarrassed. I stick my nose where it doesn't belong from time to time, but I always do it with good intentions. I know how important the hair is, honey. You don't keep a mop like that without realizing you're lucky to have it."
Arielle did like to keep her hair long, that was true. It was nearly to her buttocks and that's how she always had it. Maybe it was vanity, but it stayed healthy, shiny and not frizzy with absolutely no effort. Arielle knew she was lucky to have the hair she did.
"Now with all that length, I'm told they can do a really nice shoulder-length wig, and then when you lose that hair you'll still, technically, have it." Mandy played with her ponytail again, looking sad. "You shouldn't lose it completely. That would be a shame. Especially if we can avoid it."
"Mandy, this is an expensive thing—"
"Don't worry about that. You already agreed to accept my gift, remember?"
"That feels like a trap."
"It is," Mandy admitted, smirk back in place. "I may be nosy, but I'm smart, too."
"You don't paint the bikes yourself?" Quentin nodded.
"That's right, buddy. Always know your limitations and accept them. The painting thing?" He shook his head. "Nah. That takes more patience than I have."
"What color will the bike be?"
"Dunno. I kinda like just a classic black, everything else chrome. Can't beat a classic look, Chuckles."
"Why not yellow?"
Quentin's eyebrows went high. "Don't know about that. Not really my color. Washes me out."
"Purple?"
Quentin cackled now. "You got something against black?"
"No. But the bike you have is black." Calvin took the wrench he was holding out and put it in in the right drawer of the tool chest. "You should be more original."
"Maybe. Lemme think about it."
Calvin sighed, took a breath like he'd been waiting to say something, then just blurted. "I want to paint my bike pink."
Quentin cocked an eyebrow but he kept any smartass comments at bay. "Pink, huh? How come?"
"For Aunt Arielle," he said softly, adjusting his glasses.
Quentin felt quiet wash through the garage, his chest getting tight. He coughed to pass the moment. "That's a good idea," he agreed. "I think I can help with that, buddy."
Calvin grinned. "Cool!"
Mandy's car pulling up to the curb cut the moment, and Quentin held a finger out to the kid. "Remember, Aunt Arielle doesn't need to know about that ride to the store. Or the root beer, right?"
"Never ever, Q." Calvin nodded emphatically, hopping off the stool and running towards the car while Quentin scrubbed the grease from his hands and followed. Arielle stepped out and Quentin stopped, hands frozen, knowing he was likely staring. "Aunt Arielle!" Calvin was shouting. "You look so different!"
Arielle smiled down on the kid and hugged him to her stomach. "I know. But do you like it?"
"You look pretty," Calvin said, not at all sounding rehearsed.
"Thanks, Peanut," she laughed, then her head came up and Quentin caught her eye.
Shit, she was fucking gorgeous. It hadn't been the hair, because now it was cropped short, curling in a dark wave just under her ears, out of the way of her face, no longer distracting from it. It was just her. She was absolutely beautiful, and he felt himself swallow like he was seeing her for the first time.
Mandy circled around the back of the Caddy just in time to catch him doing the fish-mouth thing. She gave him her knowing smile and he turned back to the tool chest, wiping the last of the black shit off his hands, tossing the grease rag down and turning back, his so-called composure returning.
Arielle was letting Calvin swing her arms back and forth, prattling on, so he let himself keep staring at her. Quentin didn't even care that Mandy was scrutinizing his ogling while she strode his way.
"Where the hell did you two go?" Quentin asked, digging in his pocket for his cigarettes.
"Took her to a salon. I heard the lady there made wigs out of real hair. So she's making one for Arielle with her own supply. Had to get it before she started chemo. That bitch has some great ha
ir."
Quentin hadn't been shocked twice in a row like this in a long time. Something felt off, and he swallowed a lump before saying, "Thanks, Mandy. That was…nice."
She smacked his arm. "I can be nice." Then her face got serious and she tilted her chin down. Quentin knew Mandy Body Language, and this was where she got heavy. "I wasn't sure the babe-in-the-woods routine was real, but now I know it is. And in spite of that, I like that girl. So if you fuck things up with her, I'm gonna be so pissed at you Quentin. You have to be nice to this one."
Quentin smiled, taking Mandy by the shoulder. "Mandy, who do you think you're talking to?"
"Yeah yeah," she muttered back, turning away from his hand and giving a wave. "Thanks for the shopping date, Arielle."
Arielle smiled at Mandy, and Quentin felt his breath catch. Fuck, there it was. A smile she didn't try to hold back on, and it wasn't delivered just to be polite. The way she smiled at Calvin and her aunt Thelma.
"Thank you, Mandy," Arielle replied, her eyes darting sideways to Quentin. The smile didn't falter, and getting it full-force could have killed him.
Mandy kissed his cheek before getting back into the car and pulling away. Quentin watched while Calvin explained that Quentin wasn't going to paint his new bike black in excited kid-speak while Arielle listened, wide-eyed and still grinning. Jesus, he liked seeing her smile this much.
Declaring he had to go to the bathroom with a loud and rude belch, Calvin spun around and ran for the house, causing Aunt Arielle to give Quentin a sideways glance. "You took him for a root beer," she accused with the slightest bit of humor.
"Who? Me? Nah, that's not allowed."
She shook her head. "And I bet you didn't walk there either."
Quentin had to grin, busted. "He's so excited about that bike."
"Yeah, I noticed."
Long pause, ending with her studying her feet. Quentin realized he could say something else here. "How're you feeling?"
She sniffed, raising her head and shrugging. "Tomorrow's the final radiation treatment. Then I've got a week until chemo starts. I'm not as sick from the radiation anymore, but…that likely just prepares me for chemo."
Quentin nodded. Not sure what the hell was working in him, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, taking longer than necessary and making sure his fingers really ran through it as he did so. Damn, her hair was so soft. Her smile faded a little, but she kept eye contact.
"The hair looks good," he said quietly.
Her eyes snapped back to his quickly. "Thanks."
He left his hand behind her ear. He didn't know why, and he only realized it then. He let his fingers slide upwards against the fall of her chestnut-colored hair, tilting her head just a bit.
"Is anything wrong?" she whispered.
He shook his head. "No. I just…I thought I'd miss the hair. But you're even prettier without it."
"Quentin—"
"Sorry," he cut her off. "I'm blurting things out as they come to me."
"It's fine," she assured him. She wasn't pulling away or shoving his arm, either. "What…um," she cleared her throat and blinked a couple times. "What happened to those guys that were here last week?"
He dropped his hand. "They won't be coming back here, don't worry."
She inhaled. "Does that mean they're in the hospital?"
He let himself smile. "No."
He felt like an ass. He couldn't say they were in the hospital because the truth was they were six-feet under the sand of the desert, and their deaths had been as frustrating as the others.
"I better go get supper ready," she said, and he realized he'd fallen silent and stared at her like a freak for almost a straight minute.
"Sorry. Yeah," he said, shaking his head and rubbing his brow, trying to get back on his regular track.
"We likely have enough for one more, if you like," she said, so calmly but quietly he wasn't sure if it meant she wanted him there or not.
"Um, nah. I wouldn't want to be a pain in the ass."
She shook her head. "You wouldn't be. You've been so good to Calvin this summer. To both of us, really. I'd like you to come over."
Quentin had never done a handspring, but he might have been capable of it. He knew he was grinning, and for the life of them he couldn't care less if he looked like a complete schmuck.
"What time?" She smiled, and it did nothing to calm his shit down.
"Um, around six?"
"I'm there. Thanks, Aunt Arielle."
Arielle was pretty sure she'd lost her mind that day. She cut her hair off. She let the very nice lady at Mandy's salon take scissors to her hair and…chop it. It was shocking. So short and light. She felt naked. And yet, at the same time, knowing she'd get her hair back once it legitimately fell out, she was okay with that. Clearly meaning she was now insane.
She did like how the woman had cut it though, once she got over nearly-fainting as the stylist brushed her hair into a ponytail then just cut it off. Shorter, her hair now had some wave to it. And it did feel good, but it would take getting used to.
She wasn't completely okay with it until Quentin said he liked it. It seemed stupid, silly, but after the big deal he made about her hair before…well, she felt really good. Let's just leave it at that.
Then she invited him to supper. Again. In her house. Insane. At least Aunt Thelma was going to be there. That was good. It was Calvin's last week of summer break, they'd go to her radiation treatments tomorrow then head right to the farm for a week. Arielle was looking forward to it. It was so peaceful there. Her favourite thing to do was curl up on the porch with a good book. She loved how reading allowed her to escape reality for a few hours. And Aunt Thelma was going to let her get away with ducking out of the work, she knew it. And another adult was absolutely, completely necessary if Quentin Bayle was in her house again.
She headed back inside with a shy, sixth-grade-date-awkward wave to Quentin, honed in on the relative comfort of her kitchen. "Calvin," she shouted when she heard the bathroom door open in her bedroom. "What do want with the pork chops?"
"Can we have the tater-tot special again?"
Arielle winced. They'd had it for his birthday, and it was delicious. But it was also tater-tots, butter, cheese and bacon. Although, she wasn't too worried about weight gain at this point in time.
"Okay," she relented. "Is it okay if Quentin comes for supper too?"
His grin tripled in size. "Yeah!"
"Okay, good. Go see if he needs any more help today."
"Thanks, Aunt Arielle!" He completely ignored her open arms, which usually meant‘hug me’, and raced for the front door, throwing open the screen and tearing off down the stoop.
She got everything ready for the tater-tot…casserole? Was that a good term for it? Aunt Thelma used to make it for her and Jolene using hash-brown patties when they were growing up. It was both disgusting and delicious. She decided to also roast a few potatoes, for the adults. Okay, for her and Thelma.
Arielle was slaughtering a block of marble cheese with her shredder when Thelma arrived, putting a bag on the table with a "How's everyone doing?" before she gasped and rushed at Arielle. Arielle was turning around just as Thelma grabbed her face. "Your hair! What happened?!" She wasn't upset, she seemed to really love it.
Arielle grinned. "A friend took me to a salon today. They're making my hair into a wig."
Aunt Thelma had been fluffing her hair up a bit, then she froze. "Friend?"
Arielle nodded. "She's a…friend of Quentin's, actually. She took me there. She…bought me a wig."
Thelma's entire face softened. "Oh, honey. That's…that's so wonderful."
Arielle felt tears. Again. "Yeah, I thought it was pretty cool, too."
Thelma hugged her then pulled back and gave a thoughtful smile. "Arielle, honey. I haven't asked you about your neighbor but—"
"Aunt Thelma—"
"No, no. I get to say something, I'm older than you." Arielle took a deepbreath, but made he
r‘carry on’ motion anyway. Thelma sat in at the kitchen table sideways, arm on the tabletop, the other on the back of the chair. "Is anything going on?"
Arielle turned away to the cheese and tater-tots to answer. "No."
"Arielle," Thelma chastised.
"I don't know," she said over her shoulder. "I'm not in a good place. I can't even…consider that."
"Jesus, sweetheart. I'm not saying marry him."
That made Arielle turn around. "What?"
Thelma titled her head. "I may never have married, but that doesn't mean I'm going to my grave as pure as the day I was born."
Arielle had to blink a couple times. "Aunt Thelma!"
"What? You're not a child anymore, Arielle. You can handle hearing this." Arielle rubbed her eyes, trying to position the woman talking to her right then as the aunt she'd known since birth. "And if that was living next door to me it'd take a lot more than cancer to keep me out of his bed."
"Aunt Thelma!" Arielle knew it was silly, and she was too old to think of adults the same way she did when she was sixteen, but…
"I know what I walked in on, on Calvin's birthday, Arielle. I've been sitting around, patiently waiting for you to wake up, but it's not happening. Calvin just informed me Quentin's coming over for supper tonight? So you invited him just because?"
"It's to celebrate my last round of radiation, Aunt Thelma. He's been nearly babysitting Calvin this entire time." She heard how her voice went into teenager mode but that's how it was with Aunt Thelma. Thelma chewed her lip.
"He's too good-looking. Isn't he?” Arielle asked. “It's intimidating... I don't want to disappoint."
Arielle blinked. "You could never! And I don't think it's how he looks, I think it's…being around him... Charm," Thelma guessed. "Yes, he's charming. How old do you think he is?"
Arielle shrugged. "I couldn't even guess. I'm sure he's older than I am, maybe early thirties..."
"I'm going to tell you a story. Can you handle it?"
"Can I reserve the right to stop you if you freak me out?"