Once again, not shaking my head. She has scissors. “You’ve also always said I needed a haircut.”
And new clothes. And a life that included a man.
Betty snorts as she works on her masterpiece. “True. We have given you a hard time, Miller. But only because we were worried about you. You’ve never looked as good as you will when I’m through with you, but a few months after you started working here, you kind of…” The snipping stops as she hesitates.
“Let myself go?” I offer helpfully. That was just after my mom died.
“Yeah.” She sighs and starts cutting again. “I think a prerequisite of this job is being nosy. There’s nothing worse than a quiet stylist, right?”
I can think of one or two things. “Right.”
“And whether you know it or not, mister, you are very popular up here. All our regulars rave about your massage skills. I’ve been tempted to make an appointment myself, but I’m so busy with this job, my two kids and the in-laws who decided to move in right across the street—thank you very much—I have a feeling that if I ever let myself relax I’d fall asleep and not wake up until retirement.”
This is the most she’s talked to me in three years. I didn’t even know she was married. “I know what you mean.”
And I do. Whether she knows it or not, I’ve got a lot going on in my life right now. My virgin years ended with a vengeance. I have a new deck. A new dog. A Fred.
She wants me to be her legal guardian. Me.
That’s one of the reasons behind my sudden desire to get an actual haircut instead of trimming it myself. And yes, that’s what I’ve been doing.
Relax, it’s just hair.
I’ve always been responsible. I have a decent nest egg growing for my retirement, a house in my name, a car I don’t owe anything on and a skill set that insures I’ll always have a job. But I need to look more respectable.
I know how big a deal this is. And I made sure Fred knows that if I sign on to this, I’m not going to be a hostel she squats in until Emancipation Day. I’ll want her to stay, graduate from high school and get into a good college. I want her to be able to do something with all that brainpower. Maybe even change the world.
I have no doubt she can do it.
Taking Fred on isn’t entirely selfless. Having her around on a permanent basis would be good for me. It would help get me out of my own head and out of this funk I’ve fallen into since Brendan left.
Three days. He went to see his father three days ago, and he hasn’t gotten back yet. Most of his luggage is still here, but with only two days left of his two-week suspension, it’s getting pretty clear that I need to get used to life without him again. To be good with short, sporadic visits and the way things used to be.
I can do that.
So far I’m not handling it as well as I’d like. But the brand-new case of insomnia I suddenly developed has given me enough time to do a quick renovation of the guest bathroom in case Fred decides to stay. So, that’s kept my mind off my heartbreak and the empty bed I couldn’t sleep a wink in last night. I wonder what I’ll have to do this time.
Betty is still chatting, and I tune back in just in time to catch the tail end of her monologue. “I heard her product party was a success, but I had no idea she’d made enough to suddenly go flying off to Paris.”
“What? Who are you talking about?”
“Austen Wayne,” Betty says. “I’ve been talking about her for five minutes.”
“Who told you Austen is flying to Paris?”
She would have told me if she were making plans like that, right? I just talked to her last night and she didn’t say anything other than she wouldn’t be in today.
Betty waves her arms expressively and I worrying about random eyes getting poked out. Maybe my legal guardian instincts are already kicking in.
“Nina at the front desk?” she says, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Austen called and Nina heard her tell the boss she was still paying for her space, but she’d be gone for a week. Paris was mentioned. I thought you two were friends. Didn’t she tell you?”
I dip into my pocket for my phone and try to send a quick text without Betty reading it.
Me: Paris?!
Austen: I thought you didn’t listen to gossip.
Me: Getting my haircut upstairs. See? We both keep secrets.
Austen: *&%$!!!
Me: So…Paris?
Austen: Long weekend, Cupid. He handed me tickets this morning. Am I insane?
Royal. That son of a bitch is good. But he’s also a good match for her. I’ve never seen two people come together this easily before. Like they’ve been dating for years instead of days.