Chapter 7 - Hazel
SEVEN
Hazel
The internet was rotting our brains. Wasn’t that what the experts said?
After what must have been at least three hours straight of mindlessly scrolling on my phone, I was starting to believe it.
Every new and mildly interesting post was like a small hit of dopamine—exciting, and incredibly short-lived.
It wasn’t until I finally snapped out of my internet haze that I realized just how numb and depressed I felt.
I pulled up the recent photo I’d received of Vermont.
It had been Reid’s idea to ask the number for a “proof of life” picture. He thought the person might slip up and send something incriminating.
This new pic was just of Vermont, though, splayed out on a generic gray rug, belly up.
He looked content. Too content, honestly.
I was grateful he was safe, but where the hell did he get off looking so goddamn comfortable?
Didn’t he know I was sick out of my mind with worry?
He could at least have the decency to look contrite.
Without taking my eyes off my phone, I got off my couch and moved to the kitchen to grab a cookie from the plastic container on top of my microwave.
It was almost eleven, but I hadn’t had breakfast yet.
My only clients were later this afternoon, so I was taking the opportunity to waste away on my couch.
I leaned against the kitchen counter and swiped out of the picture of Vermont to open the list Reid had asked me to work on. He’d provided me with all the usernames that had viewed my post about winning the lottery. He’d also sent me the picture I’d posted and asked if it had been worth it.
My heart clenched looking down at my smiling face, holding up the ticket and a drink.
Happy, but still puffy from crying at Gran’s funeral.
Beyond the happiness, I saw the relief in my eyes.
Relief that I’d finally be able to break free from the debt caused by the expensive assisted-living facility my grandma had been in.
I’d been working since I was fourteen years old, but never anything steady.
Never enough. Most days it felt like nothing I did would ever be enough.
The names on the list swirled in front of my eyes. The brain fog was heavy today. The only person who seemed like a possibility to me other than my former boss was, unfortunately, Paul. My ex-boyfriend.
I hated the idea of it, though. We’d been together for years. Lived together, too. He had basically been my only friend when I’d moved out here. Sure, he was kind of an ass. We had broken up, after all. But there had been some good times, too.
I’d been the dumper in the situation, and he hadn’t been thrilled with me.
It was a regular thing for him to show up at my apartment unannounced, usually with an angry plea to try and win me back.
He hadn’t done that in months, mind you, but the mere fact that he had done so in the past made him the only major suspect.
There were plenty of other names on the list who weren’t my biggest fans.
I wasn’t exactly familiar with the word ‘popularity.’ I’d always been a little odd—‘unique,’ as Gran always said—and had only one notable friend, Zoe, for my entire childhood and into my twenties.
But as unpopular as I was, most of these people lived hours away, on the other side of the state.
I’d grown up closer to Detroit, on the east side of Michigan, and had only moved out to the west side a few years ago.
I doubted anyone would go through the trouble of tracking me down all the way over here.
My phone vibrated.
Reid: Your property manager finally got back to me. Says they don’t give out footage, but we’re working on it.
Hazel: Trying to charm them?
Reid: I’m doing my best.
Life had been kicking me around lately, and exhaustion chased me. Loneliness wrapped around me like a weighted vest. But every time Reid texted, that feeling eased. The fact that he was still talking to me after I had gone full Hazel-mode during that misguided stakeout meant a lot to me.
Like I said, Friendships had never come easily for me, and whatever I had going with Reid was nice—comforting even. I felt an itch to keep him close, even though I wasn’t quite sure how.
I’d heard it said that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime, and I’d found that to be pretty true.
I’d had plenty of casual friendships: people I bonded with because we worked the same shift, or people I hung out with because they were dating someone I knew.
Most of those connections had faded out once the context changed. That part never surprised me.
The part that felt harder was finding the “lifetime” kind of connection. The kind that would stick even when things got messy, inconvenient, or quiet. I was still learning how to find that. Or maybe how to be that.
My absentee mother could be to blame. Getting rejected right from the start by the one person who was supposed to love you unconditionally had to leave a mark, right? Thankfully, Gran had stepped in and done her best to fill all the cracks.
Was it that people always filtered in and out of my life because I was unlovable? Or was it a self-fulfilling prophecy?
The truth was, from the moment I met someone, I expected them to leave.
A couple of hours later, my brain sufficiently corroded, I closed the door to my modest apartment to head to the salon.
“Sweetie, how are you doing?” Mrs. Edenbury from across the hall stood at her door, poised to turn the key in the lock.
My face softened when I saw her. “I’m hanging in there. Thanks for asking.”
“You’re welcome to borrow one of my babies if you’re missing your own and need a friendly face.”
She had been the first person I’d told about Vermont’s kidnapping. She had been in the hall when I was rushing around and sobbing like a mad woman. She’d comforted me and sat me down in my apartment before making me a cup of tea.
Mrs. Edenbury was somewhere north of seventy, with hair that had been dyed blonde so many times, I wasn’t sure it could grow out gray if it wanted to.
And she was, funnily enough, a huge cat person.
She had given me treats and toys when I’d first brought Vermont home, after I’d told her he was my late grandmother’s and I had no idea how to take care of a cat.
Mrs. Edenbury might have reminded me of Gran, except she didn’t swear like a sailor, and I doubted she had ever begged anyone to allow her to start chain smoking again.
“Thank you. That’s sweet. I might take you up on that.
” I probably wouldn’t, though. Her apartment gave me the creeps.
I’d only been inside once and that was enough for me.
She had life-sized dolls perched on the couch.
Nowadays, when she wanted to have tea, I always suggested she come to my place instead.
“Do you need help carrying your groceries in?”
Her smile faded. “Oh, no. That’s alright dear. You get to where you’re headed. I’ve got these.”
“You sure?” I reached for a bag, but she pulled away.
“Yes, I’m sure. You go on. I’ll stop by for tea sometime soon.” With that, she slipped into her apartment and closed the door behind her.
Zipping up my coat, I stepped outside.
I zoned out during the short drive to the salon and all throughout my first appointment. It was just a touch-up job and this particular client was a talker. All I had to do was nod and ask a few follow-up questions, and she could keep the conversation going for hours.
I enjoyed my work. Gran had let me dye her hair from a young age, and I’d had fun with it.
I liked the challenge when someone brought me in a picture to recreate, as long as their expectations were reasonable.
I loved the social aspect and being somewhat in charge of my own schedule.
Working with different types of people kept me on my toes, and renting my own chair at Miranda’s salon was kind of like running my own small business.
I posted on social media, got my own clients, managed my own bookings.
Way better than working for that asshat, Clinton.
I cringed just thinking about him. Hopefully I’d never see the guy again. My outburst was just as embarrassing as it had been cathartic.
“What’s eating you?” Jackson asked. His client had just vacated his chair and now he was sweeping up the surrounding area.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I said, which was true. Objectively I was fine. Not great. Not good. Not amazing. Not terrible. Fine. I was making it through.
“Ruby’s brother not bringing any optimism to your current predicament?” he asked in a low voice. He jerked his gaze to where Ruby was at the front, laughing while concentrating on trimming a client’s bangs.
I rolled my eyes. He was such a gossip.
“Reid is great,” I said. “He’s the only thing giving me an iota of hope about the crappy situation. But it’s still a crappy situation. I thought I’d be booking myself a little vacation by now to celebrate my turn of events. Now I might be catless and penniless.”
“Well, you’re not really a cat person anyway.”
I gawked at him. “I’m a Vermont person. I can’t believe you’d say that to me. He was my grandmother’s.”
“I know, I know.” Jackson waved off my obvious offense. “I’m just saying, were you really going to take care of a cat for the rest of its life? They can live to, like, twenty.”
“Good. That’ll be twenty years longer than anyone else has stayed in my life,” I mumbled, turning away from Jackson. I liked him, I really did. But no one would ever accuse him of being too empathetic.
“Don’t go feeling sorry for yourself.” Jackson came around to my station and guided me to my chair. He placed his hands on my shoulders and forced me to sit. He started pulling up pieces of my long brown hair and examining them. “Have you ever thought about a different color? Or bangs?”
“Uh, what are you doing?” Natalie scurried over from across the aisle, eyes wide. “Hazel, now might not be a good time for a change.”
“Don’t look so worried,” Jackson said, grabbing a spray bottle off his station.
“I’m just saying. A time of great stress is not the best time to be making hair decisions.” Natalie bit her full lip and looked back and forth between the two of us.
“Some would argue it’s actually the best time. Besides, Hazel has really let herself go this past month. She’s looking shaggy.”
“Thanks.” My voice came out dry. Even in my stupor, I still found the energy to be insulted. I didn’t think my hair was that bad. Sure, it could use a trim, but so what if I had been neglecting my appearance ever-so-slightly? I did have other things going on.
“May I?” Jackson asked, holding up his scissors.
I sighed, relenting. “Just a trim. Nothing drastic.”
Natalie was sweet, trying to make sure I didn’t make some giant hair mistake right now, like cutting a pixie on my too-round face.
But I didn’t care. Who the hell was I trying to impress?
I hadn’t been on a date in ages, and I seriously doubted anyone would be asking me out any time soon.
Besides, it was just hair. It’d grow back.
“You’re sure?” Natalie looked horrified as Jackson sprayed my hair down with water.
I shrugged. “I could use a change.”
Natalie sighed. “Famous last words.”