Mia covers her ears. “La-la-la, I’m not listening.”
Standing, I walk over and pull her hands down to her sides. “Arealone not his cock.”
Her face goes red. “Oh. Sorry.”
My cousins are laughing hysterically as Aunt Marion comes in the door.
Her dyed black hair frames her olive skin the way it has for years. Only a few wrinkles around the eyes and mouth would give away her age.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was telling Mia and Rose about the construction next to my new apartment.”
“Ah yes. They’re turning the old church into condos.”
Despite the inconvenience, I see dollar signs. Millennials will have need for private detectives. If I focus on the positive, perhaps I can survive the b’jillion decibels. It’s only for a few weeks.
A few minutes later, the regulars shuffle into my aunt’s salon on walkers and canes. I wash hair while my cousins cut and style.
Aunt Marion putters.
During a mid-morning lull, I pour Rose a coffee and sidle over. “Hey, do you know a Martha Rossini?”
“Sure. Everyone does. Why?” Dark eyes lift to mine as her brows raise. “Did she come to you with new business?”
“Sort of.”
She laughs. “Oh my God. You can’t take that woman seriously. She must call the cops every other day.”
Mia joins in. “More like twice.”
Sighing, I drop into Rose’s chair. “Shit. I was hoping she was for real.”
“I doubt it, cuz.” She fluffs my hair. “Want a trim?”
“Sure.”
My younger cousin leans against the counter. “You should get highlights. You already got all these different shades of blond. We could really make it pop.”
Just what I need. To pop.I roll my eyes. “Maybe next time.”
Grabbing her shears, Rose pauses and purses her lips. “There’s one more thing I have to tell you about Martha Rossini.”
“I’m listening.” When hairs flies everywhere, I close my eyes and wait for more bad news.
“Her daughter is a fucking nightmare. She wants her mother’s inheritance. All of it. Know what I mean? She even gives us shit about charging for a cut. And a tip? Forget about it.”
“Awesome. Guess I’ll be saying goodbye to renovations any time soon. Who needs a working kitchen and bathroom, anyhow?”
“You could always move back in with us? Josi moved out and your old room is empty.”
I picture me, Suds, the rickety bed, and how it bangs the wall when we make love. Oh God no, shoot me now.
Chapter 3
Suds
While Sam washes hair at her aunt’s salon, I dress. A few hours later, nerves frayed from the noise next door, I take my laptop to the nearby coffee shop.
