Chapter 6 - Hazel
SIX
Hazel
“Clinton!” I shouted. His stupid smug face came into focus as I stalked toward him. It was like the sight of him had possessed me. Some alien entity had taken over my body, recklessly propelling me straight toward this man.
In the back of my brain, my processors vaguely alerted me that Reid was calling my name urgently from the car, but I couldn’t be stopped.
Every emotion that had been brewing within me—frustration, grief, anger, despair, you name it—had finally erupted to the surface. I needed to let it out on someone.
Now.
Clinton jerked his gaze toward me and squinted for a moment, as if trying to place me. Recognition flared in his eyes seconds before his mouth twisted into a scowl.
“I told you to stay the hell away from my salon,” he yelled, in that semi-composed, throaty way people did when they didn’t want to cause a scene.
“What are you doing?” Reid hissed. He had crossed the distance quickly and was now directly at my back.
“I had every right to post that video and you know it,” I said, stopping only when I was a foot in front of my former boss. “You’re a shit boss and you’ve built your empire on the backs of stylists you’ve taken advantage of.”
Clinton barked out a bitter laugh and tossed his head back. “You are so fucking dramatic. Jesus, Hazel. Grow up. It’s called business for a reason. Everything I did was above board, and part of a very clear contract that you signed.”
My hands shook and tears of frustration pooled in the corners of my eyes. “Did you take him?” I asked.
“Hazel! Let’s get out of here.” Reid tugged on my arm, but my feet stayed planted, refusing to budge.
A puzzled look twisted across Clinton’s face. “What? Take who?”
“My cat!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he sneered and shook his head.
My vision of him was obstructed by a gray sweater. Reid had placed himself between us.
“Alright, we really need to go,” he said, dipping his head to force me to make eye contact with him. I jerked my body to the side, peering around Reid to level my gaze at Clinton. He looked about as fed up as humanly possible, but I couldn’t give two shits.
“Tell me the truth!” I demanded, scanning his features for any possible crack that would tell me he knew something—anything.
“You’re literally insane,” Clinton said, putting extra emphasis on the word. He backed away from me, toward the front of his gaudy salon, a place I was genuinely thrilled never to have to set foot in again. “If you come back here, I’m calling the police, and I will get a restraining order.”
“That isn’t necessary!” Reid said at the same time I spat out, “Sue me!”
“Seriously, get the hell out of here!” Clinton yelled, fiddling with his keys. He dropped them then dipped down to grab them in a flustered hurry.
“Is everything alright here?” A soft voice asked. The older woman who owned the flower shop next door had poked her head out her front door.
“Everything’s fine.” Reid’s voice cracked. He gripped my biceps and walked forward, practically dragging me along. “Hazel, move now. We need to go.”
A few tears slipped down my cheeks, and I brushed them away with my sleeve before spinning on my heel and letting Reid herd me back to my car at the far end of the lot. I didn’t leave without one last, “Fuck you, Clinton,” throwing him a quick middle finger in the process.
Reid covered my raised hand with his and pulled it down.
“Stop it,” he scolded, guiding me to my passenger side door before stuffing me inside.
He jogged around to the driver’s side and put my keys—the ones that I had carelessly left behind when I’d stalked off—into the ignition.
He placed a hand behind my headrest, looked behind him, and peeled out of the parking lot.
“Holy shit, Hazel! That was not a stakeout.”
My breathing quickened as my mind finally caught up with my actions. I stared out the window as we whizzed away. Clinton had his head out the front door of his salon, raising a fist in the air like some cartoon villain. Then, Reid slammed on the gas and left the plaza in the rearview mirror.
I sank down into my seat, letting a few more tears fall freely before sniffing.
I’d lost it. I wasn’t usually that impulsive, but all my building emotions had finally broken free.
My ex used to call me a loose cannon—mostly because I couldn’t stay quiet when someone cut in line or mistreated a customer service worker.
But I wasn’t exactly known for picking fights. Not like what just happened back there.
That was it. I was cooked.
Reid wasn’t going to help me anymore. Why would he believe this was out of character?
I wasn’t exactly stable. He probably thought my outburst was a run-of-the-mill morning for me.
I chanced a look at him. His face was flushed, eyes locked on the road, and his breathing still came in sharp, audible bursts.
Without Reid, I was screwed. I could probably rule out Clinton as a suspect, since he genuinely hadn’t seemed to know what the hell I was talking about, but I still wasn’t any closer to solving this miserable mystery.
“Something came over me when I saw his stupid face,” I said, attempting to defend my inexcusable actions.
But something really had. I hadn’t been expecting it.
Aside from this whole debacle, there was bad blood between Clinton and me.
He’d fired me at a time in my life when I really couldn’t afford to be fired.
Granted, I’d deserved it, but I had tried talking to him first. I’d pointed out how he was being deceptive and underpaying his workers.
He’d been smug and dismissive in response and that had pissed me off.
So maybe I’d acted on instinct. And maybe my instinct was frequently irresponsible.
I was still a human being. I deserved better than to be discarded like a piece of garbage.
“Are you okay?” Reid asked.
The softness in his tone surprised me and I lifted my gaze to meet his. He adjusted his glasses, glancing erratically from the road back to me.
“I’m fine,” I said, unable to hide my surprise that he seemed to genuinely care.
He let out a ragged breath. “That was so dangerous. You can’t just confront someone like that, especially someone you think might have it out for you.”
Was he scolding me right now? Was he actually concerned for my safety? Despite my utter despondence, something brighter cracked through my chest.
“I don’t think Clinton is the most dangerous guy around. I doubt he would do anything that could get his white pants dirty.”
“I’m serious,” Reid said, but then a snort of a laugh escaped him. “He was impeccably groomed.”
“I’ve never seen him any other way. I wish I’d reached out and at least messed up his hair.”
“He probably would have you arrested for assault.”
“He’d probably believe it was assault, too,” I said.
Reid was fully laughing now. “That guy looked ridiculous. But also, I think we can cross him off our suspect list. No way was that guy bending over to pick up a cat in someone’s courtyard.”
“You’re probably right. I doubt he’d even be caught dead in my part of town,” I said with a sigh, before perking up in my seat. “Wait. Did you say we?”
Reid scratched his chin absentmindedly. “What? Uh, yeah. We can cross him off the list.”
“So, you’re not done with me? You still want to help?”
He looked so focused. Hands at ten and two, shoulders squared, eyes unwavering on the empty road in front of us.
“Well, yeah.” We came to a stop at the next red light, and he turned in his seat. “But I’m not doing that again, that’s for sure. We’re doing it my way next time.”
I winced. “Understood.”
“It might seem slow or frustrating to someone who likes to take action, but trust me, okay?”
“I do trust you,” I said, somehow believing it.
One of my flaws was trusting too easily.
It had landed me in trouble before—phony friendships, deadbeat exes, even the occasional internet scam.
But with Reid, I had a good feeling. Being around him felt…
steady. His presence was calming in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Not since that last dinner with my grandmother, when we had curled up on her sofa to watch a movie afterward.
The memory slammed into me and my smile faded.
We rode the rest of the way to my building in silence.
The drive back had given me plenty of time to stew about my outburst, and the embarrassment had finally hit.
Based on my behavior, one could assume I didn’t give a shit what people thought about me.
And they would be correct…mostly. But Reid was so together.
So buttoned-up. I wanted him to have at least an ounce of respect for me.
Reid turned off the ignition and tossed me the keys before we unbuckled and got out of the car.
“Uh, sorry about all this. The whole morning, really,” I said, as we stood outside my front gate.
He nodded before tilting his head toward my gated courtyard. “This the scene of the crime?” he asked, then stepped toward the gate and slid his fingers through the wrought iron bars, peering into the small space.
“That would be it,” I said, joining him.
“Vermont loved being outside. And I felt so bad that he had to be taken in by a surrogate mother that I wanted him to be happy. He’d dart for the door every time I opened it.
I have a small private balcony, and I wanted to make him a cute little caged-in area, but… ”
“Hey, you might still be able to do that. Don’t give up hope yet.” He gave my arm a gentle squeeze, like grounding me came naturally. Butterflies stirred in my stomach at the touch, but I did my best to play it cool.
“What’s next?” I asked.
His jaw clenched as he squinted through his glasses, taking in the full stretch of the front of my apartment complex.
There wasn’t much to see. It was a two-story, twelve-unit, U-shaped building surrounding a small grassy courtyard.
The place was old, and owned by one of those sleazy new property management companies that had snapped up nearly every apartment in the area, cutting corners and charging rent like they were running a luxury hotel.
“Next, we do things my way.”
“Do tell. What is your way?” I asked.
He gave me a little smirk. “That’s my way.” He pointed to the far-right portion of the roof that hung over the gate. Mounted there was a small black camera I had never noticed before.
Positioned to face the courtyard.