Chapter 3 – Everly
EVERLY
“Come on, Kaylie! We need to be leaving here in ten minutes, and you still haven’t eaten your breakfast.” I shout down the hallway as I stumble around our small living room trying to put my shoes on.
There’s a trail of toys all over the carpet where Kaylie left them this morning when she woke up early and played in here instead of in her room.
I want to be grateful for her allowing me to sleep an extra thirty minutes, but I’m not sure if it’s worth the extra hour it’s going to take to vacuum up the glittery mess her toys have left all over my living room floor.
Whose idea was it to make all her doll accessories sparkly with glitter anyway? Either they don’t have children themselves, or they have a maid who cleans for them because everyone knows glitter is of the devil!
“I’m coming!” Kaylie’s little voice sings down the hall as she rolls into the kitchen on her new Heelys that Santa brought her for Christmas.
She grabs the edge of the kitchen table in an attempt to stop herself, making her little legs fly past her, nearly causing her to fall on her butt.
It takes a couple of tries for her to right herself and lock the wheels back into the bottom of her shoes.
While I watch on and silently pray she breaks nothing in the process.
“You’re going to break your neck in those things, Kaylie.
I don’t want you to wear those to the shop.
How about you go put on your pretty, new princess shoes you got for Christmas?
” Something else Santa brought her. I swear Mason spoils that girl.
Her bedroom, full of toys he brought over from the clubhouse, proves as much.
He’ll spoil you too if you let him.
Nope. No bikers. No Mason. No heartbreak.
It’s a firm policy I have stuck to my entire life, and I don’t plan on changing it now.
Bikers are trouble. Even the good ones come with enemies and wars, shit I don’t want or need in my life or Kaylie’s.
We need stability and to be chaos-free. Well, as chaos-free as we can be with a hyperactive six-year-old kid who has an overactive imagination around.
And Mason is all those things. A biker with good intentions, chaos surrounding him, and an inevitable heartbreak.
No, thank you.
“Is this better, Sissy?” Kaylie asks, spinning around in circles in her sparkly pink heels and her matching pink sweater dress with white tights.
“Yes. Now, please get your jacket. It’s still very cold outside.” Kaylie gives a curt nod and runs back down the hall.
“No running in the house, Kaylie!” I shout after her.
“Soooorrrryyyy!” Seconds later she comes skipping down the hall instead.
This kid. Where does she get the energy?
“Grab your Pop-Tart and your lunch box. You’ll have to eat on the way.”
She squeals as she passes me, her rainbow backpack bouncing on her back with each step, and swings her matching lunchbox in her hand.
“Did you get your …”
She spins around with her brows raised. One Pop-Tart is half crammed in her mouth and the other wrapped in a paper towel in her hand.
“Never mind. Let’s go.”
Grabbing my purse and coat, I lock up the house and load Kaylie into her car seat and get us on our way.
The roads are still a little wet, but the snow is finally melting, and the sun has made its way back to the Oakridge sky.
We’re almost to the salon when my phone rings with a local number I’m not familiar with, but I answer it anyway since it could be a client calling about their appointment.
“Hello.”
“Miss Greene?” A man’s voice asks over the line.
“Yes. This is she.”
“This is Deputy Bowman from the Oakridge Sheriff’s Department. Ma’am, are you on your way to the salon this morning?” he asks. There are some shuffling sounds coming over the line.
“I am. I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Did you need an appointment this morning?” I ask, putting on my best chipper morning voice.
“Uh, no, ma’am. You may want to call your clients and cancel for today.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Your salon was vandalized last night, Miss Greene. I’m afraid it’s not suitable for business.
You’ll need to come down here and file a report.
” I’ve never been more thankful for my earbuds than I am at this moment.
Kaylie doesn’t need to hear any of this, although it won’t matter once we get to the shop. I’m sure she’ll have questions.
“Shit.” I can feel a headache coming on. “Who would do such a thing? Why?” I ask the officer, even though I have this sneaking suspicion I know who did it.
“We’re not sure, Ma’am. But we will have some questions for you to answer when you arrive here.”
“You owe a dollar to the swear jar, Sissy!” Kaylie giggles from her car seat, oblivious to the mess that is now my life and how badly shutting down my business even for a day could affect our lives as a whole.
I don’t make the money in Oakridge I used to in Baron’s Edge. It’s a different pace of life here. The people of Oakridge aren’t rich elitists looking to keep up their appearances and attend important events every other day.
This is a simple town. Where people work long, hard hours and their appearance doesn’t have to be spot on all the time. They don’t thrive on being seen all over magazine covers and TV news. They don’t care about those things here.
Most of my clients are men who generally see me once every two weeks for a quick cleanup at their wife’s demand.
The women in town mostly come in to share gossip and touch up their roots.
Their biggest worry is looking their best on holidays.
The rest of the time it’s barely enough most months to keep my doors open and food on the table.
I’ve sunk every penny of my savings into Just Off the Top, remodeling and restoring the building.
I built a play area for Kaylie and her friends to play in when their moms come in for service.
I repainted and added all new chrome chairs and new shampoo bowls.
A new display case was built for all my products to be kept in.
Even made a small break room in the back where Leslie, another stylist who rents a station in my salon, can go to have a bite or get a quiet moment alone.
When I found out about Mama’s passing, I made immediate changes to ensure I would show myself to be the perfect guardian for Kaylie. The thought of putting her in foster care and allowing someone else to raise her gutted me.
Thankfully, Mama had some repairs done on the house over the years, bringing it up in value.
It made it easier when I went to the bank to get a loan.
There were a few things left to be done on the house to childproof it, and then my car needed to be upgraded.
My old beater was okay for me, but I traded in my old piece of shit Toyota for a used SUV with more room and a better safety rating.
The payment is atrocious, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Kaylie and prove she’ll be safe with me.
“Damn it.”
Kaylie giggles again, pointing at me in the rearview to let me know I owe two dollars now. “Sorry, baby. I’ll do better.”
“What was that, ma’am?” the deputy asks.
“N-nothing. Sorry. I was talking to my sister,” I explain. “I’m almost there. Is anyone from the security alarm company there who can help? Did they catch anything on camera?”
“No ma’am. We got a call from your neighbor with the little boutique. She was here to open her shop and called us to report the vandalism.”
“Oh my God. Was her shop hit too? Is she all right?” Mrs. Baker is a sweet, older widow who owns the shop next door.
She doesn’t have many customers, but she’s always telling me about how her little shop is what keeps her getting up and moving in the morning.
How, without her husband, the shop is the only thing she has to take care of anymore.
I take some small comfort in knowing there’s a chance the cameras caught the person or people responsible.
“Mrs. Baker is fine. A little shaken up about seeing your shop a mess and worried about you, of course. But her shop seems to be in order. This appears to be an isolated incident. I have a call into Garrison Security to get copies of their footage, and that of the neighboring shops, but we haven’t gotten anything yet. ”
“Isolated? Someone did this to me on purpose.” It’s not a question. My stomach turns as pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place.
Could the stalker be real? I thought I was imagining someone watching us. Shit.
“Yes, ma’am. It appears that way,” Deputy Bowman says, clearing his throat.
“Why would anyone destroy my salon? There’s nothing of value in there except some hair products. I don’t keep the cash on site.”
“Let’s talk more when you get here, ma’am. Drive safe.” As soon as we hang up, I’m dialing Garrison Security. I’m only a block away from the salon now.
“Garrison Security. This is Wyatt.”
“Wyatt, this is Everly Greene. Did my alarm at the salon go off at some point in the middle of the night?” I ask, while pulling into a parking spot in front of my salon and cutting the engine.
I open my door and get out, making quick work of Kaylie’s car seat, and closing the door.
When I finally look up, my heart sinks to my stomach.
I pick Kaylie up and set her on my hip as we walk toward the mess.
The sidewalk is covered with shattered glass.
It’s not just one window that’s been broken, but all of them.
They’re all shattered into a million pieces.
More glass is strewn all over the floor of the salon where the display cases have been smashed and products spilled onto the floor.
Even the door is nothing more than an empty metal frame.