Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
JOSEPHINE “JO” BOOKER
For someone who swore off drinking less than ten hours ago, I was certainly abusing my liver. At least this time I had the sense to cut myself off. In my defense, I was only trying to befriend Capone. Ink appeared to have no use for him, and Johnny wasn’t exactly offering him a shoulder either, so I offered mine. I listened to him go on about his girlfriend, Tara, and offered advice. Not that I’m an expert or anything. I have more failed relationships under my belt than anything else, but that never stops me from trying, and listening to Capone’s drama served as a distraction for me.
One I desperately needed.
After we left the funeral home, I felt my anxiety start to kick in. I knew I had made a major error in accepting Johnny’s help. That I had leaned on him too much. It would be impossible to make a clean break, and I needed a clean break from him.
“How long do you think this will take?” he asks.
Startled by the sound of his voice, my head snaps toward him. We haven’t said much to one another since we left the restaurant, and I’ve been relishing in the quiet. Without conversation, I get lost in my thoughts, which isn’t ideal. But his voice is just as dangerous and some of the stuff that comes out of his mouth is downright lethal
“How long will what take?”
“This little trip to your salon,” he returns. “You’re not taking any clients, you’re just checking in, right? Making arrangements for the next couple of days?”
Honestly, I don’t have a direct plan. I just know my business can’t suffer any more hits. I’m barely making ends meet now. Taking off a bunch of days and leaving my stylists to manage the salon scares the shit out of me.
“No, I’m not taking any clients.”
“Okay, so what’s the plan?”
From what I understand, it might be another day or two before I can have Andrew’s funeral. Then I have to clear out his apartment, and somewhere in between all that, I have to see Aunt Barbara. I haven’t decided if I’m going to tell her about Andrew, but I do think I’m going to have to move her into a facility closer to me.
All of that is going to take days. Until Detective Reynolds gives me the green light, my hands are tied. I can’t be sitting around waiting. I have to go through my appointment book, maybe try to reschedule some clients.
“I’m not trying to rush you or anything, I’m just trying to figure out when I’m going to have time to swing by Andrew’s apartment for my bike.”
“I feel I should remind you that I don’t need a chauffeur. I mean, maybe now I do because of the drinking…but—”
“Let me stop you there,” he says. “I’m not looking to have this argument again. Just tell me what needs to be done.”
“How long do you plan on being my chaperone? You do realize it could be days before we bury Andrew, don’t you? Never mind I have no idea how long it’s going to take to clear out his apartment.”
“You know you I would’ve never pegged you to be this big of a pain in my ass. You always seemed so fucking sweet in those letters.”
My eyes widen at that. “Yeah, well, I guess we deceived each other with those letters.”
His gaze snaps to meet mine. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shrug a shoulder. “You’re different too.”
His fingers tighten around the steering wheel as he draws hit attention back to the road, but he doesn’t deny the change, and I don’t know what to make of that. Silence stretches between us, and this time it feels wrong.
“What is your plan?”
“You know my plan. You can fight me all you want, but I’m in this with you.”
I want to know why he’s insisting on making any of this his problem and more than that, I want to ask him what happens when it’s all over. When Andrew is laid to rest and his belongings are placed in a box. Do we pretend like we’re going to keep in touch? Do we agree to meet on the anniversary of my brother’s death for a beer? What’s the protocol here?
I don’t ask any of those things.
Instead, I keep my focus on my original question.
“For Booker & Mann,” I clarify. “Don’t you have to get back to work?”
“Of course I have to get back to work,” he says. “Before you called, I was out of town, and I haven’t made my way back to the facilities since. I’ve got dogs I’m working with that need my attention. Not to mention, I have business with the club. None of that lets up, Jo. There are no bereavement days.” He sighs, his fingers flexing around the steering wheel. “But everything will get done one way or another.” He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Now tell me how I can help you, because I can’t take care of my shit until I take care of yours. It’s just the way I’m wired.”
I pull my lower lip between my teeth, and he growls, reminding me of the little scene back at Sally’s when he pulled my lip free. I couldn’t admit it then, and I tried to play it cool, but I liked the feel of his calloused fingers on my soft lips a little too much.
Releasing my lip, I tear my eyes away from him. The sharp lines of his jaw and the scruff that decorates it is too distracting.
“Since I don’t know when exactly we will be able to have the funeral, I’d like to reschedule some of the clients that are in the book for next week and have them come in tomorrow. Maybe even the next day too. I really can’t afford to pay someone to work the desk while all this gets sorted out.”
Johnny seems to mull that over.
“What time do you usually open the salon?”
“I schedule my first client for seven.”
“Jesus,” he hisses. “And when do you close?”
“That varies. Usually If I start at seven, I’m done for the day by eight. Sometimes nine. I don’t know how many people will be willing to reschedule, though.”
He hums thoughtfully.
“That means we’d have to be on the road by five.”
My eyes widen and I turn to face him, leaning my back against the passenger door.
“I’m sorry, do you plan on sitting in the salon with me while I work, because that’s crazy. I get that you’re trying to help, and if I’m being honest, you helped a lot today. Especially at the funeral home. But I don’t need you to hold my hand when I’m working. If anything, work is good for me. It keeps me distracted.”
“I’m not gonna be sitting in your salon all day, Jo. But I ain’t gonna have you drive two hours by yourself either.”
“The salon is a twenty-minute drive from my apartment.”
I know this morning he insisted I stay with him, but that seems even more ridiculous now if I’m going to be going to work.
“You’re not staying in your apartment by yourself.”
An exasperated sigh escapes my lips, but he doesn’t give me a chance to argue with him.
“You never answered my question this morning.”
“You’re going to be a little more specific, you seem to fire a lot of questions at me.”
Again he takes his eyes off the road to glance at me, but this time when they meet mine, they appear much darker.
“I asked if you have a man.”
I vaguely remember dismissing the question, along with all the possible reasons I let myself think he was asking it. I don’t think he’s going to let me do that again.
“No. I’m perpetually single.” I cock my head to the side. “Satisfied?”
“Hardly.” His gaze lingers for a moment, then he turns his head. “I’ll drive you to work, then depending on what is going on with the club, I’ll either head back to the clubhouse or check in at Booker & Mann. Then I’ll pick you up when it’s time to close shop.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe, but that’s how it’s going to be.” He tips his chin toward the windshield. “Turn here?”
I should put my foot down and demand he come to his senses. Ask him if he’s got a woman that sleeps in the bed I slept in last night and if she know what he’s been up to the last twenty-four hours? But I already know the answer to that question. Johnny would never tie himself to one woman, and this incessant need to help me is fleeting. It’s only a matter of time before he disappears without a trace again.
I huff out a breath.
“Yeah. You can park in the back.”
If I didn’t have bad luck, I’d have no luck at all. As cliché as that sounds, it’s true. Not only did one of my stylists decide not to show, but the sinks are clogged, making washing anyone’s hair a nightmare. And to add insult to injury, the landlord dropped a notice this morning, informing me that the building was for sale.
I took that notice, and the stack of bills I hadn’t had a chance to open before Detective Reynolds called and shoved everything to the bottom of my bag. Instead of going through the book and rescheduling my appointments like I planned, I tried to fix the sinks. It has been a recurring issue for me, and I always keep a bottle of Draino in the cabinet. It’s cheaper than calling a plumber.
“I tried that,” my stylist, Katie, says. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think the line needs to be snaked. I should’ve told the landlord when he came by to drop off that notice, but I was in the middle of applying color to my client.”
“It’ s okay,” I assure her. “He wouldn’t have done anything anyway. I called him when this first started happening and he told me that it was my problem, that the drain is clogged with hair.”
If I wasn’t worried the potential buyers of the building would kick me out, I’d be rejoicing over the news that my landlord is selling the building. He’s a real prick.
“My brother’s friend is a plumber. I can give him a call if you like, he might be able to give a discount. If not, he’s at least reasonable.”
I sigh as I turn on the faucet. It takes a second for the hot water to kick in, and when it spurts out, it’s a brownish shade.
That’s not good.
On the verge of tears, I turn to Katie. “Yeah, if you don’t mind, please call him. See if he can come in tomorrow. I plan on being here all day. Aside from that, I don’t know when I’ll make it in. Just trying to take everything day by day.”
“Of course. If he can’t come tomorrow, I can meet him. Whatever you need.” She drapes an arm around my shoulders and draws me against her side. “I’m really sorry about your brother, Jo.”
Katie and I aren’t close in the sense where we have regularly scheduled girls nights, or anything like that but she’s the only one I trust to help me run the salon, and I appreciate her condolences.
The bell chimes over the front door, and I glance over Katie’s head to see who it is. Johnny walks in, swagger in his step as his eyes dart all around the salon, taking everything in. When he parked my car in the lot, he instructed me to go into the salon, that he would join me after he made a few phone calls. I didn’t ask who he needed to call, but that was a while ago.
Maybe he had to call his girlfriend to explain his absence, and why I’ll be occupying his bed for the foreseeable future.
He lifts his chin, and his eyes find mine from across the room.
“Who is that and where have you been hiding him?” Katie whispers.
Pulling out of her arms, I scoff. “It’s not what you think. He’s a friend of Andrew’s, and I haven’t been hiding him.”
“Is he single?”
I quirk an eyebrow at her. Is she serious with that question?
The corners of her mouth turn down and she sighs. “The ones that look like that usually aren’t.”
No, I don’t suppose they are, but I wonder if they’re all emotionally challenged like Johnny.
I clear my throat and stare at the side of Katie’s face while she continues to ogle Johnny. “You know who isn’t single?”
“Who?”
“You.”
She scoffs. “There is no harm in window shopping.”
I don’t know how true that is, staring at Johnny for too long has the potential to ruin a woman.
He crosses the room and silently acknowledges Katie with a tip of his chin. A second later, those blue eyes latch onto me. “You get what you needed to get done?”
“Not exactly.” I turn my attention back to the problematic sink. Instead of the water going down the drain like it should, it pools and bubbles. I quickly shut the faucet before it overflows, and I have a bigger situation on my hands. “Katie, maybe now is a good time to make that phone call.”
“Hold up,” Johnny says as he makes his way toward the sink. “What’s the problem?”
The area is tight enough without his big hulking frame crowding it, so when he comes to stand behind me, his body presses against mine, and for the second time today my nipples decide to react to his nearness.
Refusing to meet his gaze, I cross my arms against my chest.
“The sink is clogged. Katie is going to call her brother. He has a friend who is a plumber. With any luck he can come tomorrow and snake it.”
“There a hardware store around here?”
“About a half a mile up the road,” Katie chimes in.
Unable to help myself, I shoot her a glare. I know she means well, but I’m going to need her to reel it in. Things are already dicey between Johnny and me, I don’t need to shake them up by having him fixing my pipes too.
“I’ll be back,” Johnny says, forcing me to face him.
“You don’t have to do that. We’re going to close down for the day. You and I still have to stop by my apartment to grab my things, and I know you’ve got stuff you need to deal with. This can wait until tomorrow.”
“I can snake your pipes, Jo, and it won’t take long. No need to call a plumber when you got me.”
It’s the last three words of that sentence that make my lips smack together. He keeps saying some version of them, and every time he does, I find myself wishing they were true.
He drags his finger down my nose, tapping the tip gently.
“I’ll be right back. You just hang tight.”
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. We stare at one another for a moment, then he drops his hand to his side and turns for the door. I try to look away, but I must’ve caught whatever bug Katie’s got because my eyes lower and I stare at his ass as he walks out of the salon.
He’s got a really great ass.
“He sure does,” Katie agrees.
Shit.
I guess I said that out loud.