Hedy wasn’t the least bit surprised by either of those revelations.
“Would he come if you called? Say, if you told him you wanted to start cutting his hair again?”
“Yes.”
In a heartbeat.
“Then maybe he can be your first mark,”Hedy says, considering a row of dark purple succulents.
“No. Absolutely not.”
She smiles like maybe I’ve accidentally said the right thing, then asks, “And why is that?”
“Because I’m terrified of Anders and Omar Bash. Not to mention his Uncle Hopper…” I shudder.
She laughs and pats my shoulder. “Any other reason?”
I don’t answer her, but I think she has my number all the same.
“He likes you, right?”
I nod.
“And the feeling’s mutual?”
I stoop to check out a tiny string of pearls plant, fingering the delicate, round leaves.
Hedy stands next to me, waiting.
“Yeah.”I let out a breath.“Yes. Probably.”
We’ve only spent a few hours together at this point, but there’s an energy about her, a flow. Hedy feels like someone I can trust. Like an aunt. Or a friend.
She suggests I set up a hair appointment with Rami, but not for intel.
“Just see what comes up for both of you.”
“He might ask about his fathers.”
“That he might.” She grimaces.“Just make sure to leave Wimberley out of it. For now.”
I can’t tell if she’s playing matchmaker or setting me up to be the bad guy.
So, now I’m waiting in my empty shop, wondering if Rami got my message, and if he did, wondering if he’ll show up.
Anders and Omar still scare the shit out of me, but Hedy made me laugh, which is why I’m even willing to consider her offer. Do I feel obligated under pain of death to accept this new position? Not…entirely? But I am grimly fascinated.
Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirrors that surround the shop, I shake my head. Tumbled world view aside, a barber who can’t keep his style fresh is a sad thing, indeed.
I make my way to the washing station and stand while washing my hair upside down in the bowl. When that doesn’t reset my brain the way I hoped it would, I dry it off and then go after it with a combination of my favorite shears and my newest trimmer. Feeling a little feisty, I add a series of hearts down the side of my undercut, along with a bit more texture to the hair ontop, giving me that messy, ne’er-do-well look my followers seem to enjoy.
“Uh, True?”
I curse myself for not filming it, but maybe?—
“Truett?”
I twist and find Rami Fucking Bash in my shop.
