This Guy Kills Me

by Anlyn Hansell

  “What?”

  “Those. What are you doing with those?”

  “Taking them?”

  “No, you’re not. Give them to her.” He gave a slight head nod to the salesgirl as she flicked her gaze from one to the other.

  “No.”

  “Yes,” he replied before turning his attention to the younger girl in front of him. “You can donate them…to a dumpster…or maybe a museum for tacky clothes. Do they have one of those?” he asked as the girl gave a small laugh before noticing his expression was dead serious. “Give ‘em up Jane,” he stated as he gently prodded them out of her hands and lifted them over the counter.

  “You shouldn’t really be doing this. I mean, I know I don’t exactly dress the best, but seriously what’s the difference?” she muttered as the beeping of the cash register droned on in the background.

  “The difference is my sanity. You make my eyes cross; you dress so bad.” More beeping…

  “Oh please. It’s not that bad…”

  “That’ll be nine hundred twenty-six dollars and forty nine cents. The red top was on sale!” the girl chirped as a strangled choke emitted from Jane’s throat. He just handed over the bills as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  Three month’s rent… Maybe she should be become a hitman…hitwoman. It was apparently quite lucrative. Holy shit…

  “We could’ve gone to Walmart…” she trailed off in a quiet voice as her eyes fixated on the digital readout on the back side of the register.

  “Walmart,” he snorted derisively before placing the change in his wallet and casting a glare her way.

  “Ok. Shoes next, and…let’s get this hair cut. You look like a strung out groupie. Do you ever cut this stuff?” His fingers grabbed a lock of her hair and examined it before letting it fall to her chest.

  “I…not really,” she finished quickly, wanting nothing more than to disappear. Private criticism was one thing. Ripping on her in public was a whole other thing entirely.

  He wasn’t finished. The shoe store was an experience in humility also.

  “Peach Fuzz? What’s Peach Fuzz, where’d you get these things?” He eyed up the small worn tag on the side of her filthy sneakers as he held a shoe up by a ratty string with his thumb and forefinger.

  “I never heard of that brand. That’s funny,” the stylishly clad woman squatting in front of her seat blurted before clamping her mouth shut.

  A small growl escaped her throat as she cast her eyes down and allowed the woman to slip the brown loafer on her right foot.

  “These are really cute. We sell so many of these. You’re going to love them,” she fired off. “Wiggle your toes. Can you wiggle your toes?” How about I wiggle my fist in your face?

  “Are you wiggling?”

  She wiggled just to shut her up.

  “I like them. What other colors do you have?” he asked as he tossed her poor sneaker to the floor with a dull thud.

  “Well, we’ve got black and navy blue and a light tan…” Jane heard as she stood up and wandered away from the two of them. They were comfy. They were also one hundred and ten dollars on sale. Good lord. At this rate, she would have to find three jobs to pay him back…

  “…and those boots. I like those boots, get her a pair of those…”

  Unreal.

  By the time they wandered from the store back into the bright sunlight, they were each holding two bags of shoes and a bag of clothes each.

  “This is kind of fun. Are you having fun?” he asked as they walked back to the car. Her response was another growl.

  “Jane, don’t growl. This is for your own good. Actually, it’s for my own good. You’re my secret weapon,” he admitted, talking to himself more than her, she was sure. “You just wait; guys will fall all over themselves telling you whatever you want to know. Trust me on this. This is brilliant. I’m going to find your asshole boyfriend in no time flat.” He was actually smiling. His teeth were straight, white, a small crease formed near the side of his mouth, at least that she could see through his dark five o’clock shadow.

  It was somewhat warm for an autumn day yet he kept the leather jacket on over what she knew was a well fitted black tee. If he removed it, she would get an unadulterated view of corded forearms and some rather mouth-watering biceps. She couldn’t help but study him. The man she was walking next to was a complete enigma. One would think a paid killer would be morose, melancholy, withdrawn or maybe just downright surly, but no. No, this guy was jabbering on like a happy, well-adjusted normal guy. It was so weird.

  The trunk popped open as they approached and he stuffed his bags in, grabbing hers to join them before slamming it closed.

  “Alright, haircut and food. I’m hungry. Are you hungry? What could you go for?” He gently took her arm and led her back to the sidewalk.

  “Coney Island?”

  “Yeah, right,” another derisive snort before he dropped his hand.

  “Why do you even bother asking?”

  “Because it’s funny. Your body is supposed to be your temple and you treat yours like a garbage dump.”

  “I do not. I just…I’m not made of money. I survive. I eat what I can when I can.” She stopped abruptly, causing him to turn to her.

  “Well, we’re not in that situation right now, are we? So pick something.”

  “Coney Island.”

  “A chili dog is not a meal.”

  “…and chili fries…”

  “Ugh. You make me ill, come on.” He grabbed her arm once again, lightening his hold before pulling his hand away once again.

  They walked together in silence through the posh Birmingham downtown area. Trendy stores and eateries lined the pristine walkway and every once in a while her eyes would catch and hold on a particularly nice piece of clothing adorning one of the many mannequins lining the windows.

  “Here. This looks like a decent place.” He stopped and looked up at the marble and glass building. ‘Serenity Day Spa and Salon’ was emblazoned in fancy script on the sign.

  “You don’t have to do this. I mean, you’ve already bought enough stuff…and it’s not that I don’t appreciate it, it’s just -”

  “Listen.” He turned toward her and placed his thumb and forefinger on her chin, forcing her gaze to his face. “This isn’t a romantic gesture, it’s not Pretty Woman, I ‘m not doing this to impress you or date you or get in your pants. I have a single objective here and this is a means to an end. Don’t read anything into it. It’s just a job. I can’t have you wandering all over town looking like a hot mess.”

  “But -” He quickly moved his fingers to lightly squish her lips together before continuing, “Do not say anything stupid like, ‘I have to pay you back’ or ‘I can’t accept this’ or any other insincere and feeble argument you may want to spew. I just want you to shut up, get a haircut, and…shut up. Do not say ‘thank you’ or ‘you shouldn’t have’ or any other shit like that.”

  Two very attractive, fashionably dressed women walked out of the salon at that precise moment and one of them gave him a good once over before placing her sunglasses on her face. His hand immediately removed itself from Jane’s lips, but he was completely oblivious to the fact that he was just thoroughly checked out by a member of the opposite sex. He continued to glare at her before his eyebrows rose. “Got it?” he asked softly.

  It was hard to speak, so she offered a nod. Her lips were still tingling from his touch for some strange reason she refused to think about.

  “After you.” He swept his hand toward the inside of the building while holding the door open with his other hand.

  She clamped her lips together and pursed them to try and get some feeling back into them as she took a cautious step through the glass door into the impressive lobby. Immediately she stopped and gave a quick scan of her surroundings, quickly averting her eyes from a group of women seated in what she assumed was a waiting area. Another quick scan around and her breath caught. It was breathtaking. Coo
l sage green walls, a floor to ceiling waterfall situated behind a glass counter that looked like a work of art, coordinating wing back chairs lined an adjacent wall, and the artwork…it was gorgeous.

  “Jane? It’s not a haunted house, Babe. Move it,” he whispered into her ear. A slight nudge caused her to take another tentative step forward.

  “Can I help you?” A beautiful young woman sat behind the counter, her blonde hair pulled severely from her face, horn-rimmed glasses perched on her pert nose and a small microphone suspended near the side of her lips.

  “We need a haircut, actually make that two,” he stated as he wandered toward the desk.

  “Do you have appointments?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry, we don’t take walk-ins.”

  She said walk-ins like walk-ins were the lowest form of society or something. Jane’s eyes immediately narrowed on her then quickly flitted away.

  “Hmmm. Well, that’s a problem, isn’t it?” He leaned on the counter giving her his full attention.

  “We’re booked. We’re always booked. You have to make an appointment at least a month in advance,” she stated coolly.

  “I see. Oh! I just remembered, we do have appointments. What do you know?” He was grabbing something out of the inside of his jacket.

  Oh my god, he’s going to shoot her. Jane took an involuntary step back, ready to make a run for it

  “Really,” she stated with a bored expression before he pulled out his wallet, grabbed some bills and plunked them down in front of her.

  Her eyes widened behind her glass lenses as she stared at the bills. There were at least three of them…all hundreds at least that Jane could see.

  “We can fit you in, well maybe one, I don’t know if we can fit two in,” she muttered absently.

  “Imagine that.” He smiled, his attention still focused intently on her face as another couple of bills were placed in front of her.

  She immediately pressed a button on a small box next to her computer screen and spoke into the small microphone attached to the headset that adorned her noggin. A man and woman appeared from around the back side of the gigantic water feature a few moments later.

  “This is Juan and Misty,” she indicated. Misty was petite and quite cute with her dark pixie cut hair and perfect features. Juan? Well, Juan was of a say, feminine persuasion with his black hair styled in almost a pompadour looking poof on top of his head. Black eyeliner accentuated his chocolate brown eyes and was he wearing lip gloss?

  “I’ll take him,” they both said at the same time, their attention fixed on her companion and completely ignoring Jane.

  “That’s OK. Juan? You can take Sally here, Sally?” Pete was grabbing her arm and practically dragging her in front of him; maybe using her as a human shield?

  “Bummer,” Juan mumbled as he walked up to her and immediately grabbed a handful of her hair and tsked to himself.

  “Girl, you wash this stuff with bar soap or what?”

  Actually, yes. She fought the urge to slap his hand away.

  “This isn’t just a trim. You need major help.”

  Apparently Juan was going to join in on ‘Rip on Jane Day’. She watched as he turned on his heel. Yes, his heel. He was wearing pointy shoes with a heel; and motioned for her to follow with a flick of his wrist. A small involuntary growl emanated from her throat as her eyes narrowed on ‘Pete’ before she grudgingly followed.

  *****

  “Cut it all off, I don’t care.”

  Her admission and shrug were met with absolute glee as Juan clapped his black nail polished fingertips together in silence, his eyes wide, as he smiled broadly.

  “Trim only,” Pete’s voice stated from the chair next to her.

  “Who cares? Juan says it’s nasty -”

  “I like it long. Trim only,” he stated as he stared ahead.

  “Well, I suppose I could try a conditioning treatment. You know I have other appointments. I’m going to have to bounce around…”

  “Bounce around, dude. Her hair stays long,” he stated as Misty turned on the clippers and started sweeping them up the back of his neck.

  “We should give you some bangs, though.” Juan’s hands pulled her hair from her forehead and immediately her own hands shot up and pushed them away.

  “Oh, girl! What happened to you? Ouch!”

  Obviously he saw it. The scar ran across the top her head, concealed by hair on either side of the long gash, but it was there. Puckered and raised, it would always remind her of a past that explained so much about her present…

  Her eyes quickly flitted to the angled side mirror in the station next to her and yes, one of Pete’s eyebrows was raised and he was looking back at her.

  “It was nothing. A little accident,” she murmured as his fingertips made another move to examine it before she jerked her head away.

  “That’s not little, damn that had to hurt -”

  “Juan, are you cutting my hair or what!?” she huffed out impatiently, wanting nothing more than to get this over with.

  “Sensitive…come on, rude girl, let’s get some moisture in this pile of hay,” he said as he waited for her to stand up.

  “And why don’t we shave your face, we can do that, you know -” Misty stated next to her after turning her clippers off, ceasing the buzzing abruptly.

  “NO,” Pete blurted, and quite forcefully too.

  “Well, at least a trim?”

  “No,” he stated in a voice that pretty much conveyed the fact that he had a personal attachment to his stubble for some inane reason.

  Jane watched as the woman shrugged and began brushing off his neck. He looked good. Better, if one could believe that. For some reason the stubble worked for him, it added a sense of…

  “Come on, Hee-Haw, let’s go!” Juan’s overly cheerful voice rang out through the salon causing her to cringe slightly before she turned and resigned herself to her fate: The dreaded moisturizing treatment. Whatever the hell that was…

  *****

  Juan was taking forever. Was there a back door? Did she slip out? She had a couple of opportunities to escape and she hadn’t taken them yet. Maybe she truly was going to cooperate, he thought as he stood in the lobby.

  The flamboyant hairdresser insisted she needed her eyebrows waxed and whatever else he was babbling about. She followed him to a back room, shooting a narrow eyed glare back at him to let him know that she wasn’t pleased. He shot one back as a warning.

  He had watched her retreating back, taking in the long, shining hair, the form fitting clothes, the way her new jeans hugged the curve of her ass…

  *****

  “See? I put on a little Visine and the redness goes away in like, minutes. Isn’t that smart? I use it all the time when I wax my brows. Take a look. You are sooo pretty, girl. Juan transformed you. That man isn’t going to know what hit him. He is one fine piece of man-meat by the way,” he blathered as he shoved a hand held mirror in front of her face.

  “Don’t move. I’m going to give you a little something extra, no charge. Hold on -” he stated as she remained lying on the overstuffed chaise lounge. Moments later he returned with a small bag, seating himself near her hip and turning toward her.

  “Just a little makeup, not that you need it, but it sort of accentuates your assets, know what I’m saying? Now sit still. Here look at me…”

  I can’t look at you. You’re too close.

  He was brushing blush on her cheek bones. “Very nice. You have killer cheek bones by the way. You should be a model, I mean, you are kind of short, but you could be one of those face models, right?” he murmured as he unscrewed the top from a tube of mascara.

  “Ok, look right at me. You’re not looking at me. Look at me.”

  Oops. Eye contact. Here we go…

  She clamped her mouth shut as the words were trying to escape. Her body trembled slightly as her eyes held his and refused to let them go. So many thoughts were swirling. He was sweeping the
brush up in fluid strokes and smiling to himself. He had no clue what was coming next. Just keep it inside; it won’t take much longer, just a little longer. Hold it back. Hold it…

  “Gah!” she exclaimed. “Oh, you can look, it’s Ok. He loves you and you love him, so what difference does it make? He probably checks out other guys too and I’m sure he doesn’t act on it. And you should not take him to meet your parents tonight, who by the way have already probably figured out you’re gay anyway, Juan – I mean Phil! Your real name is Phil. I mean your chosen profession notwithstanding, you wear lip gloss for chrissakes…and heels… Oh! Wait, you tone it down for them, Ok, I see that. They still probably know and I really, ummm… I have to go. Thanks for the extra stuff and…oh gawd.” She shoved her hand over her lips as she quickly scrunched up and turned her body, placing her feet on the floor and quickly walking from the room leaving a stunned Juan staring after her.

  Walking through the salon, her hand still clamped over her mouth, she immediately grabbed Pete’s arm and tugged him toward the front door.

  “Did you pay?” she stated as she continued to tug at his sleeve. It came out completely muffled most likely due to the hand clamped tightly over her mouth.

  “What?”

  “Let’s go.” She unclamped her hand and let his sleeve go when it appeared he was more of an immoveable object in his surprised state.

  She continued toward the front door, opening it and stepping outside.

  “Wait!” Juan quickly wandered out from behind the water feature as he strode toward the front door.

  “Juan, your twelve o’clock is here,” the receptionist stated loudly causing him to stop and look back at her then toward the front door once again.

  A statuesque blonde walked up to him and grabbed his shoulders, kissing both sides of his face. “Hi Juan! Are you ready to make me gorgeous or what! Oh! Look at you, love that shirt -” Juan was still staring at the door Jane just blew through. The confusion on his face was apparent.

  What the hell did she do?

  “What the hell did you do?” he asked as he grabbed her arm and swung her around after catching up with her.