by Marie Force
Mrs. Romanello kissed Juliana’s cheek. “They’re not for me, hon.” She handed the card to Juliana.
Startled, Juliana said, “For me?”
Mrs. R nodded. “Open it.”
Juliana fumbled with the envelope and pulled out the card. “88 days. I love you. Jeremy.”
“Jeremy?” Mrs. R asked.
Juliana nodded and blinked back tears.
Mrs. R reached for Juliana’s hand. “Did something happen this weekend?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Tears and two dozen roses? Something happened.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“Of course. How about some coffee or breakfast?”
Juliana smiled. Mrs. R, who was widowed with four children scattered around the country, loved to feed her and Jeremy. “I’m good, thanks. I need to get to work. Why don’t you keep the flowers and enjoy them?”
“Don’t be foolish. Take them over to your house.”
“Um, I’m actually staying with a friend right now.”
Mrs. R’s eyes narrowed. “What friend are you staying with? What’s going on, Juliana?”
Juliana sighed. “Jeremy and I are taking a break. It’s nothing, really. We just need a breather to figure some things out.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. People who love each other don’t take breaks.”
Ouch. “It’ll be fine,” Juliana said with more certainty than she felt. “I’ll take the flowers to the salon.” She tipped the vase over the sink to dump out the water.
“Where are you staying?”
“With a friend. I’m fine. I promise.” Juliana kissed her. “I’ve got to go.”
Mrs. R took hold of Juliana’s chin, her wise old eyes scanning Juliana’s face. “You’re not fine. I know you. But I won’t push. You know where I am if you need me.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Juliana hugged her, picked up the roses, and left.
At the salon she deposited the roses on the reception desk. The salon was all glass, track lighting, mirrors, light wood floors, and modern art. Juliana loved the clean, stylish look of the place and the fragrant scent of the beauty in the air.
“Where’d you get them?” her friend Carol asked. “Jeremy?”
Juliana nodded.
“Uh oh. What’d he do?”
“Since when do roses mean trouble?”
“A dozen red roses means I love you,” Carol said, following Juliana to the break room to stash their coats and purses. “Two dozen means I’m sorry for something.”
“Have you been reading Glamour again?” Juliana asked with amusement, which faded when she thought of the other thing she needed to tell her friend. “Hey, so, you won’t believe who I met on the plane.”
“Who?” Carol filled two mugs with coffee. Her short red hair was stylishly teased into spikes that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. On her the style was avant-garde.
“The Benedetti prosecutor.”
Carol paled. The loss of her young cousin was still a raw wound. “Michael Maguire?”
Juliana nodded.
“I’ve met him a few times at my aunt and uncle’s house. He’s very good about keeping them informed.”
Juliana wasn’t surprised to hear that. She took the cup of coffee from Carol and squeezed her arm. “He says they’re going to get them, Car. He has no doubt.”
Carol nodded and dabbed at her eyes before tears could ruin her makeup.
“Juliana, your nine fifteen is here,” the receptionist announced through the intercom.
“Are you okay?” Juliana asked Carol.
“Yeah. I’ll just be glad when the trial’s over. We all will.”
“I’m sure.”
“We’d better get to work, but I still want to know why Jeremy’s in the doghouse.”
“You’re imagining things,” Juliana said, and they walked out to greet their clients.
Chapter Twelve
On Wednesday, Michael picked Juliana up at the salon just after six.
Once she was in the car, she kicked off her shoes and groaned. “God, my feet are killing me.”
“I don’t know how you stand up for nine straight hours.”
“I’m used to it, but sometimes my feet let me down,” she said, rubbing one of them.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Shampoo samples for Rachelle.”
“She’ll love that.”
“I brought my scissors, too. I thought she might like a trim.”
“Thanks, Jule.”
Startled, she looked over at him.
“What?”
“That’s what Jeremy calls me,” she said softly.
Michael cringed. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. I don’t mind. It’s just that no one else calls me that.”
“How are you holding up? What is it? Day three?”
She nodded. “Three down, eighty-seven to go, but who’s counting?”
“Not you of course.”
“Can I ask your opinion on something?”
“Shoot.”
“If a guy sends a girl two dozen roses, what’s he saying?”
“What color?”
“Red.”
“That he screwed up. Definitely.”
Juliana laughed. “Am I the only one who’s never heard that before?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Jeremy sent them to me yesterday.”
“So people are wondering what he did?”
“Yes!”
“It was a nice thing for him to do,” Michael conceded. “He didn’t have to.”
“I just wonder what else he’s doing,” Juliana said, biting on a thumbnail.
Michael kept an eye on the rearview mirror as they sat in heavy traffic in the southbound lane of the Baltimore-Washington Parkway. “Try not to think about it.”
“It’s all I think about. I just wonder, you know, is he doing it with someone else right now? Right at this very moment?”
“You’re going to drive yourself crazy with that.”
She sighed and rested her head back. “I know.” Glancing over at him, she noticed how handsome he was in a dark pinstriped suit. They hadn’t even known each other a week ago, yet there seemed to be nothing she couldn’t talk to him about. “Have you heard any more from Paige?”
“She’s been oddly, strangely quiet. I’m not complaining, but I’m wondering when the other shoe’s going to drop.”
“Maybe she’s given up.”
He snorted. “I doubt it. I just hope she leaves me alone during the trial.”
After more than an hour of crawling through rush hour traffic, Michael drove past the hotel to make sure he wasn’t being followed. It was almost seven thirty when they finally pulled up to the J.W. Marriott.
Rachelle was delighted to see them and thrilled with Juliana’s gifts as well as her plans for a haircut.
“Don’t let me keep you ladies,” Michael said. “I’ll order us some dinner. Any preferences?”
“Whatever you’re having,” Juliana said.
“I already ate,” Rachelle told him and then turned to Juliana. “You look so cool all in black.”
“It’s what we wear to work at the salon. Keeps it easy.” Juliana draped the cape she had brought from the salon around the girl’s slender shoulders and ran her fingers through her hair. “You did a good job with the round brush.”
Rachelle’s face lit up. “Do you think? I spent extra time on it today when I heard you were coming.”
Juliana smiled at her in the mirror. “So how about some layers and bangs?”
“You’re the expert. Whatever you say.”
“Let’s wash it first.”
Combing out Rachelle’s wet hair, Juliana noticed the girl wasn’t as animated as she had been the other night. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
Rachelle shrugged. “I’ll have to testify soon.”
“Are you nervous about it?”
“Sort of. They’re really bad dudes, you know? Michael told me they’ll try to scare me when I’m on the witness stand, so I shouldn’t look at them except for when I have to identify them. I just need to tell the truth.”
“That’s right,” Juliana said, her heart aching for Rachelle.
“Those kids weren’t doing anything wrong,” Rachelle said softly, her eyes a million miles away.
Juliana continued to brush her hair.
“They were riding their skateboards in the parking lot when the car pulled up. I saw they were scared when they realized who was in the car. That’s how I could tell they knew them. The two guys started yelling, and then they were shooting. They didn’t see me, or they probably would’ve shot me, too.”
“Thank God they didn’t see you. What did you do?” Juliana rested her hands on Rachelle’s shoulders and talked to her in the mirror.
“For a few minutes after they drove off, I was just frozen. I couldn’t move. And then I ran back to my aunt’s apartment. My mom said I was screaming. I don’t remember that. The cops came, but I couldn’t talk. For like three days, I couldn’t talk. The doctors said I was in shock.”
“Of course you were.” While Rachelle talked, Juliana began to cut and shape her hair. “It must’ve been very scary when you were finally able to talk to the police.”
Michael came to the door.
Juliana shook her head and used her eyes to tell him he was interrupting an intense moment.
He nodded and backed away.
“I guess the Benedettis had a big argument with the kids at an arcade that day. Some of the kids’ other friends were with them when it happened. They described the Benedettis, so after they were arrested I just had to pick them out of a lineup.”
“You’re doing a good thing, Rachelle, by seeing to it that they can’t do this to anyone else. You’re making so many sacrifices, but you know that’s why, right?”
Rachelle nodded. “I just wish we didn’t have to move. I wish I’d never gone outside that night. I think about that, you know? If I hadn’t forgotten my purse in the car, none of this would’ve happened to me or my family.”
“But the Benedettis still would’ve killed those kids, only they might’ve gotten away with it if you hadn’t seen it.”
Their eyes met in the mirror. “That’s true. Michael says I’m his slam dunk,” Rachelle said with a small smile as she finally noticed the haircut Juliana had given her while they talked. She reached up to touch hair that was now three inches shorter. “Wow.”
“Let me dry it, so you can see the full effect.” Juliana turned Rachelle away from the mirror and worked for fifteen minutes with the hair dryer and brush. “Okay, are you ready?”
“I’m dying to see it!”
When Juliana spun her around, Rachelle gasped. “Oh my God! Is that me?”
Juliana chuckled. “That’s you.”
Rachelle ran her fingers through the layered tendrils. “I love it! Thank you.”
“I’m glad. I’ve had this in mind for you since the other night.” Juliana styled Rachelle’s hair for another moment before she said, “You know who really needs a haircut?”
“Michael,” they said together.
“Want to help me talk him into it?” Juliana asked.
“I’m on it.”
They ventured into the adjoining room where Rachelle’s detail of police officers made a big fuss over her new look. Juliana watched Rachelle seek Michael’s approval.
“It’s perfect,” he said. “You look fantastic.”
Rachelle blushed. “Thanks.”
As Juliana ate the burger Michael ordered for her from room service, Rachelle went to work on him.
“You ought to let Juliana do something with your hair,” she said, stealing a French fry from Juliana’s plate.
“I don’t know.” He glanced from Rachelle to Juliana. “Why do I feel like I’m being ganged up on?”
“Please, Michael?” Rachelle pleaded. “Let her cut your hair.”
“If you don’t do it, Maguire, I might,” one of the cops said as she reclined on a bed with the newspaper.
“What’s in it for you?” Michael asked Rachelle.
“Entertainment,” she said with a big smile.
“Oh, all right.”
“Caved right in, didn’t he?” the same cop said to one of the other female officers, and they shared a laugh.
“Shut up,” Michael said under his breath to the cops as he let Rachelle tug him into the bathroom in her room.
Juliana followed them.
“Just a trim. I mean it. I like my hair long.”
“Let her do what she wants,” Rachelle said. “She’s the expert.”
“A trim. That’s all I’m agreeing to.”
Rachelle rolled her eyes at Juliana. “Sheesh, what a baby he is.”
Juliana smiled and draped the cape around his shoulders. He had taken off his suit coat and tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves. She ran her fingers through his hair for a few minutes while she thought about what she wanted to do. When her eyes met his in the mirror, she was startled to find awareness and desire in his. For a long moment neither of them looked away.
“Come on!” Rachelle prodded from the doorway, breaking the spell. “Start chopping.”
Juliana took a deep breath and went to work. When she was done, she discovered he was hot underneath all that hair, and suddenly the walls of the tiny bathroom seemed to close in on her.
“You look, so… so different,” Rachelle said with a love-struck sigh.
“Is that good or bad?” Michael asked, looking himself over in the mirror.
“Good.” Rachelle gazed at him with her heart in her eyes. “Definitely good.”
Michael brushed the hair off his neck. “Definitely good. I guess that’s better than butt ugly.”
Juliana chuckled.
“We’d better hit the road,” Michael said. “It’s getting late.”
“Let me clean up the hair first,” Juliana said.
“Housekeeping can do it,” he said. “I’ll ask one of the cops to call them.”
“Are you sure? I hate to leave a mess.” Juliana couldn’t get over how different he looked with short hair.
“It’s fine,” Rachelle assured her. “They send someone right up whenever we call them.”
“Okay,” Juliana said. “Well, I guess we’ll see you soon.” She gave Rachelle a hug. “Hang in there, honey.”
“Thank you. For the haircut and all the stuff.”
“You’re welcome.”
“We’ll try to come back this weekend.” Michael gave Rachelle a quick hug. “Keep up the good behavior.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
They gathered their belongings, and Michael had a word with the cops before they left the adjoining room. In the hallway, the police officer on duty whistled at Michael. “Nice ’do, Maguire,” he said. “Did you girls have fun playing haircut?”
Juliana smiled at the furious look that crossed Michael’s face.
The police officer’s laughter followed them to the elevator.
“I said a trim, Juliana.” Michael punched the down arrow. “What does that word mean to you?”
Her smile faded. “Oh. You really don’t like it.”
“Did I say that?”
“You don’t seem too happy with it.”
“Will you or will you not admit that what we have here is more than a trim?”
“Jeez, I feel like I’m on the witness stand or something. I’m sorry. I just got into my zone.”
He smiled. “I know. I was watching.”
Her face heated with embarrassment. “You were?”
“Uh huh. I could’ve stopped you.”
Again that flash of awareness mixed with a hint of what was definitely desire.
Since she was unable to process all that she saw, she looked away from him. “So why didn’t you?” she asked when they were in the el
evator.
“Because you were in your zone, and I enjoyed watching you.”
She almost gasped when he reached out to touch her hair.
“Seems only fair.”
“What does?” She reminded herself to breathe.
“You got to run your fingers through mine. I’ve wondered if yours is as soft as it looks.” When he twisted a lock of long hair around his finger and brought it close enough to smell, she did gasp. “It’s even softer than it looks. You always smell so good.”
She moved away from him just before the elevator doors opened to the lobby. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “Why are you doing this?”
“What am I doing?”
“If you’re looking for a rebound, you’ve got the wrong girl.”
He stopped walking. “Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know what to think. I thought we were friends,” Juliana said, mortified when her eyes flooded with tears. She was like a faucet lately.
He put his arms around her and pulled her tight against him.
Suddenly, the strain, the uncertainty, and the agony of the last few days caught up to her, and before she knew it she was sobbing in Michael’s arms right in the middle of the busy hotel lobby.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered after several minutes passed. She tried not to notice how safe and comfortable she felt in the sanctuary of his embrace or that her arms were wrapped around him, too.
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t let her go, either.
“I’m okay,” she said when she finally pulled back from him.
He kept an arm around her as they went outside. Once they were in the car, he turned to her. “I’m not looking for a rebound, Juliana. That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?” she asked softly.
He ran a finger over her cheek to brush away a lone tear. “It’s not a rebound.”
“I don’t want it, Michael. Whatever it is. I love Jeremy.”
“I know you do, but you see, the thing is, I’m falling for you, Juliana.”
“What?” she asked, flabbergasted. She pushed his hand away from her face. “You can’t mean that!”
He kept his eyes locked on hers. “In the five days I’ve known you, you’ve given me more, been there for me more, done more for me than Paige did in four years. I knew I would care for you from almost the first moment I saw you. When I found you crying in the airport on Sunday, all I wanted to do was scoop you up and take you home with me.”