“Boring,” Jacque sang.
“Don’t care,” Peri sang back. “Now, we’ve got other things to discuss. Even though you are using your real names, you are not to tell Sally that you know her. Do not attempt to remind Sally of anything, any memory, any past event, anything that happened in your past lives as friends. For all intents and purposes, this is the first time you are ever meeting Sally Morgan.”
“Miklos,” Jen corrected.
Peri shook her head. “No, she knows herself as Sally Morgan.”
“Crap,” Jen muttered. It was going to be difficult to pretend to not know anything about the girl she knew everything about.
“Also, you cannot react to anything you see that you don’t like. If you act weird, she isn’t going to be responsive to building a friendship with you, which is what we need to do.”
“What’s our story?” Jacque asked.
“We’re new in town. We moved here from Texas—a way to have something in common with her. We are sisters—all adopted. Our parents always wanted to live in a beach town, but both have passed away. They were older when they adopted us. Mom died of cancer and Dad shortly thereafter from old age. We decided to live the dream they always wanted.”
“Good story line,” Jen smiled. “What about men?”
“What about them?” Peri asked.
“Do we have any?”
Peri thought about her question and then nodded. “We better or else we might slip up. We each have boyfriends. They are all best friends and are backpacking across Europe.”
“Nice,” Jacque nodded.
Peri stopped in front of a door directly below a sign that readThe Dog House. They had arrived.
Jen shook out her hands and tilted her head this way and that, attempting to loosen up the tense muscles.
“We aren’t going in for fight, Jen,” Jacque laughed.
“I know that, butthead. I’m just trying to relax so I can act natural. I’m afraid I’m going to see her and try to tackle her in a hug.”
“Yeah, don’t do that,” Peri said shaking her head.
Peri pushed the door open and they walked inside and froze. There she was, their gypsy healer, behind a bar, not with Costin. Jen soaked in the image of her friend—whole, uninjured, and sporting a new set of locks.
“Holy schnauzers, what did she do to her hair?” Jen asked as they stood, stock still, staring at their best friend who was diligently drying glasses.
“I think it’s cute,” Jacque whispered.
“By burlesque standards, maybe,” Jen said, her lips pinched together as though she’d just sucked on a lemon. “It’s too, too…” She sputtered trying to find the right words. “It’s too blonde and purple.”
“You’re a blonde, dummy,” Peri pointed out.
“I’m a blonde because God made a mistake. That’s forgivable. I mean, he’s God. She’s a blonde” —Jen pointed at Sally— “becauseshemade a mistake. She ain’t no god and therefore should not attempt to be changing what she was born with. This is what we call inexcusable behavior. Take note ladies, it won’t end pretty.”
“What does that mean?” Jacque ask glancing away from Sally briefly to look at Jen.
“It means her roots are going to look craptastic as her hair grows out. Not. Pretty.”
“Her hair isn’t what’s important, girls,” Peri huffed at them. “She’s got no memory of us. Any of us. She’s dating a werewolf, working in a bar, and believes her parents are dead. Can you see why I don’t think her hair is important?”
“No,” Jen answered. “Just think about how much easier getting through those things would be with good hair? It would be one less thing to worry about. But now she has to add that mess to her list of already jacked up issues. She could have saved herself that drama at least.”
“Okay,” Jacque interrupted. “We get it, Jen. And Peri, we hear you. The next question isare we just going to stand here and stare?”
“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We are going to march over there and tell her that damn dye job is a catastrophe and she needs to call in FINA.” Jen started to take a step forward.
