“It’s all done. Didn’t take long with all hands on deck. See you later.” She ends the call without me confirming that I’ll go along with her plans. Well, that’s Pippa.
I hear the front door slamming and excited voices greeting me. I turn on the gas that I’d switched off when answering Pippa’s call, and get back to cooking.
“Mom, did you see my car? It’s amazing. Dad’s going to take me out for a lesson.”
Freak leans into me. “I’m taking him to an old airfield, just so he can get the hang of it.”
It’s what we already agreed to. “I reckon you’re going to pick it up quickly, kid.”
“Mom, I’m sixteen. Please stop with the kid shit.”
Freak ruffles his hair and gets a roll of his son’s eyes.
I grin and start to plate up. “Come on, sit down. No going anywhere until you’ve got food in your stomachs.” That gets them seated, and soon they’re digging in, while I eat my breakfast more sedately.
“You going to the clubhouse while we’re gone?” Freak asks through a mouthful of hash brown.
“Change of plans.” I frown. “Pippa wants to take me to get my hair done. Does it really look that bad?”
“It’s not great, Mom.”
“Sometimes I worry that you’re far too literal.” Freak chucks a piece of toast at his son.
“Mom? Dad threw…”
“Dad should know better.” I glare at Freak while pulling at the long ends of my hair and bringing them up to my face. I grimace as I examine them. Yeah, some of them do look split, and as for a style, I gave that up long ago. The brothers never bothered much about my hair when I was a club girl, only that it was long enough to wrap their hands around. And Freak’s never said anything to me about it. “Do you like my hair long?” I query now.
“Love your hair anyway you want it, Trix.” Right answer. I fucking love my man.
Every morsel of food has disappeared, something I’m used to with a still-growing boy, and a man the size of Freak. I stand and start collecting the plates, but my old man stops me with a touch of his hand. “We’ve got this, Trix. You go get yourself ready to go out with Pippa.”
“It’s my birthday,” Ace moans.
Freak silences his protest with just one look, and I swear some silent communication passes between them. I think men are born with the ability to communicate non-verbally.
If I’m going to have my hair done, I’d prefer to be wearing some makeup at least. So I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and instead of protesting further, I climb the stairs, favouring my still sore ankle, and go to the bedroom. A change of top – I’m going to wear the one I have on later when I go to Ace’s party, but I’ll take it with me and wear something different. I don’t want to be itchy with hair down my back for the rest of the day. I put on a covering of face powder and apply lipstick to my lips, just enough to make it look like I’ve made an effort.
By the time I’ve finished, Freak calls out from downstairs, “We’re off now. See you later.”
“Take care,” I call back. And I can’t resist running to the window to see Ace’s new car driving away, with Freak in the driver’s seat.
Returning to the kitchen, I check that it’s been cleaned properly and that the dishwasher is stacked as I like it. I run a cloth over the work surface, but as I finish, I hear a car draw up outside.
I’m at the front door before Pippa can knock, and am surprised to see Bronwyn as well.
“Girls’ spa day,” Pippa announces. “You ready?” Her expression suggests, ready or not, I’ll be going anyway.
Smoothing down my t-shirt, I grumble. “I don’t know why we’re doing this.”
It’s Bronwyn who answers. “Because it’s fun.”
“It’s only a fucking barbecue,” I protest. Nevertheless, I let them lead me to the car.
I expect them to take me to the hairdresser on Main Street, but instead, we drive further and end up at what looks like a private club. Outside, there’s a sign with big letters that announces it’s an actual spa.
“You weren’t kidding when you said spa day,” I accuse Pippa. I’m wondering how the hell I’m going to pay for this. The place screams money.
Pippa waves something in front of me. “Freak’s given me his credit card.”
