“Your mother tried to bail on the bill?” I look from Holly to Daisy. “She pulled that shit before?”
That’s when the floodgates open. Daisy is in full meltdown. “Dad, yes, but it wasn’t our fault. We didn’t know. The owner of the last place called the cops on us and said if we didn’t stay until Mom came back and paid, she’d press charges against all of us, includingHolly and me. This wasn’t our idea, Dad. We swear we didn’t know.”
Holly is deathly quiet, and when I look at her, she’s too pale. “Dad, I tried to make sure she wasn’t planning anything like that again. I asked her if she had the money this morning. But you know what she’s like.” Holly looks down at her feet and laces her fingers together so tightly, a knot even tighter forms in my gut.
Daisy points to the salon lady, still talking through tears. “Poppy has been so nice to us, Dad. She didn’t threaten to call the cops. She didn’t yell. She even bought us food because we’ve been here all day, and we were starving.”
My kids, whom I pay everything for—child support and then some—werestarvingand had been dragged into some bullshit haircut scam?
“How much is the bill?” I ask, keeping my voice as calm as I can until I have all the facts.
“Let me get the total.” Poppy gets up from her seat and walks to the back of the salon, where I see a counter and a mounted tablet that doubles as a mini cash register.
Goddamn it.
This is the worst time to notice, but this woman is fucking gorgeous, and Shayla is proof that I don’t have the best track record of finding the good ones.
As I watch her walk across the salon like she’s strutting on a private runway, I can’t stop my mind from imagining those long legs wrapped around my neck, all that hair sweaty and tossed across my pillows.
I tug on my beard and try to ignore the way myfingers itch to cup her full ass. She’s tall, stacked, thick, and…Fuck.
I turn away from scoping out this woman and lower my voice to talk to the kids. “You’re really all right? Other than being hungry and your mom running out on the bill, you’re safe?”
Now that I’m with my girls and I know I’m going to fix whatever’s got them in a panic, my blood pressure is dropping.
It’s damn hard not to stare at Poppy’s perfect ass in dark black jeans and the long waves of hair that almost reach her waist, but if there was ever a perfect distraction from a beautiful woman, it’s my kids.
Holly nods and Daisy sniffles. “Dad, you don’t know how bad she’s gotten. Mom left us here and didn’t care what happened. What if Poppy had called the cops? That last lady wanted to have us arrested, Dad. We’re just kids. What would have happened to us?”
At my daughter’s fear and pain, my vision goes dark with rage again. I’ve been locked up. Arrested. Searched and booked. Abused and neglected. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, on this green earth that I wouldn’t do to protect my kids so they never know that kind of shame and powerlessness. I’m strong mentally and even more so physically, and God knows I’ve made a lot of bad choices—still do. Part of playing the game is paying the price, and I’ve paid dearly.
But this… Shayla setting up my daughters like this… Not once, but twice.
“When did this happen before?” I bark. I need toknow. Not because it matters right now, but it matters in the long run to my plan. “Forget it. You can tell me later. Did your ma pay that other place?”
“She did, but that was the worst part,” Holly says, her cheeks still looking too pale. “She had the money, Dad. She was just… I don’t know. Trying to get away with something.”
The dull echo of Poppy’s heels on the floor pulls my attention back to her. My body ricochets from rage to lust as she offers me a device, her soft hand touching mine as she hands the tablet over. I grit my teeth and will myself not to act like a horny teenager, and I look down at the itemized bill. The total has so many zeros in it, I about shit myself.
“This is for haircuts?” I sputter. I’m not excusing Shayla’s shit, but maybe she was the one getting scammed.
Poppy nods, the long curls of her hair bouncing. “Shayla had a full-head highlight, cut, and style. That service can start at three hundred for a senior stylist, and there is a slightly higher charge for long hair.” She looks me over like she’s trying to figure out if I’m going to fight her. “Then the girls…”
I do the math in my head, and I guess it all adds up. I’ve been getting haircuts for as long as I can remember from the bitches who hang out at the compound.
After prison, anybody with a gentle touch and a willingness to do the job was my only qualification. It must cost a pretty penny to keep these plants alive and lush couches looking so clean.
“Dad, these are totally normal prices. The otherplace was even more.” Holly’s at my elbow now. “And we really should tip.”
Tip? Sweet baby Jesus, no wonder the women at the club are all too happy to drink our free beer and eat our food. They must be broke on haircuts. I know what I’ve been paying for the girls’ essentials, but this shit?
I drew the line this past summer on fake nails because that’s a money pit I’m not ready to fall into for kids too young to hold down their own jobs. I’m going to have to work a lot more gigs like the one we had today if my plan to have them full time is going to work.
I blow out a long breath and hand the tablet back to Poppy. Her face shadows like she expects me to bail on the bill, but I reach into my back pocket and peel off a wad of hundreds—enough to cover the bill and food.
“Here.” I am about to hand her the money when I turn to Holly. “How much do I tip?”
She grins and stands beside me, lacing her too-thin arm around my waist. “Dad, she took really good care of us before all this. The food, letting us call you. At least what you’d tip in a restaurant. If you pay on the tablet, you can pick a percentage if that’s easier.”
