Chapter 2
Sutton
I laughed at Marjorie, the client’s hair I had just set rollers in, “I’m telling you, girlie, you make them fall in love with your taste, and then you talk about a wedding nonstop. They will get the hint. Eventually.”
“But what if you don’t believe in marriage? Then what?” I asked her.
She looked up at me and snapped, “A beautiful woman like you doesn’t believe in marriage? That I don’t believe.”
I giggled, “I do. But what if I didn’t? What would you tell me to do then?”
“You slip arsenic in his food and make it to where he never wants to go anywhere, and then when he’s at his most weakened state, you tie that fool to your bed.”
I laughed.
Since Marjorie was my last client of the day, and it was a Tuesday, I made plans to grab Imperial and watch the new Twisters movie.
Glen Powell had nothing on Irish, but he sure was good to look at.
Where Glen Powell had dirty blonde hair, Irish’s was a deep brown.
Almost the color of dark chocolate, and it was so soft.
He kept the sides trimmed down to a two, but on top, it was long and thick.
He had grey eyes. But his grey eyes were so unique in that they had little bursts of lilac in them.
They were undoubtedly my favorite feature of that man.
He was tall, too. Standing at six foot one, I loved it every time I stood beside him because he towered over me.
He was lean in some places but not in his arms or his thighs.
At just the mention of those powerful thighs and what he could do with them, my pussy clenched.
I shook my head and got back to work on Marjorie’s hair.
Two hours later, I was walking into the clubhouse when I was snagged around the waist.
My body started to tense up until I caught the scent of the man.
And then I smiled, and my body relaxed.
“Good day?” He asked.
I nodded.
He lifted a brow at the bag I held, “What you got?”
I smiled and said slowly, “Imperial.”
He groaned, “Please tell me you got enough for me too?”
I lifted a brow, “Why on earth would I do that for?”
“Because you always get me something when you go to Imperial, and it’s our Tuesday date night. What movie are we watching?”
I giggled, all the while shaking my head.
Yes, I did get him food from Imperial.
The one time I forgot, he jumped on his bike in a torrential downpour and went and got his own.
But he almost didn’t make it back due to a car hydroplaning right in front of him.
The memory of that night forever cemented itself in my mind.
I smiled up at him and said, “After what happened the one time, I forgot. Do you honestly think I would forget again?”
“If it were someone else... then yeah. But since it’s you, then no.” He said as he tapped the tip of my nose.
And just like that, we walked to my room in the clubhouse.
“Go get comfortable. I’ll get what we need.” He told me as he took the bag of food from my hand and set it on the small desk I had in there.
After I pulled on a tank and pajama bottoms, I took the elastic from my hair and shook it loose.
Then, I wiped off my makeup and moisturized.
When I returned to my room, I saw that Irish had everything laid out on the top of my bed, his kutte was hanging on the back of my door, and his boots were off as well.
Once I got settled, we started to eat. He asked, “Can I ask you something?”
I had just taken a bite of my dumpling, swallowed, and then nodded, “Yeah, you know you can ask me just about anything.”
He smirked, fucker. “When you told us your story, why did you always full name that man? It’s something I’ve been wanting to know, but I didn’t want to put you in a bad place.”
I sighed, “Because if I didn’t, then he would beat me with a belt. But he only did it on parts of my body that my mother wouldn’t see. And I know what you're thinking: why wouldn’t I tell my mother what was going on?”
He nodded.
I sighed, then ran a hand through my hair, “Because if I ever told my mother what he was doing, he would carry out the threat to brand her with his name on her lower back. And he had a branding iron in his study. He showed it to me.”
“I can’t wait until I find that son of a bitch,” he grumbled so low that I almost hadn’t heard him.
But I had.
I lifted my brow, “Why are you trying to find him?”
“Because no one hurts you and gets away with it, Sutton. I already took care of Gerard. That fuckwad. And that motherfucker who wanted you for a wife. Now, all that’s left is that son of a bitch.”
At his words, I sat my container down and said, “Okay, I’m going to need you to break that statement down for me.”
Because I was close to hyperventilating.
If I understood him right, he’s already killed two men for me.
Me.
Holy. Shit.
He followed suit and sat his container down as well, locked his eyes with mine, and said, “Gerard was a piece of shit. He fucking pissed himself. The motherfucker who wanted you for a wife? He didn’t. In fact, he was already married. He wanted a mistress, and when he was tired of you, he was going to give you to his men to do with as they pleased. I couldn’t let a piece of trash like that keep on breathing.”
I was frozen on the bed, but I had one thought, and only one, “Will you get in trouble for telling me any of that?”
He shook his head, “Nah. It wasn’t club business, it was personal.”
I nodded, then ignoring the containers, I vaulted over them and pressed my lips to his.
His hand came to the back of my head, tangled itself in my hair, and took over the kiss.
His tongue swept inside my mouth, and I moaned at the taste of him. Spice. Irish. Everything oh so nice.
When our kiss slowed, he pulled his lips from mine and whispered, “That’s the payment I get for taking out a piece of shit, sign me the fuck up.”
I laughed, then got back in my spot and was thankful to see that none of the containers had spilled.
We ate in silence. Just like we always did. Because when you are comfortable with someone, no words are needed.
We had just opened our second container when there was a knock at my door. Irish looked at me and asked, “You expecting someone?”
I shook my head.
He nodded, placed the remote down on the bed, got up, and went to the door.
He opened it a crack, and then when he saw who it was, he opened it the rest of the way.
Adeline stood in the doorway, taking everything in, and then I chuckled as she slapped her hand on her forehead, “Crap, today’s Tuesday. Sorry. I forgot.”
I giggled, “It’s okay. What’s up?”
She winced, “Well, I was going to see if you would ride with me somewhere. See, there’s this kid in my class going through radiation. I’ve heard other kids making fun of her. Precious thing is losing her hair, and a chunk of it fell out while she was doing her classwork. Her mother can’t afford to get her hair cut right now; she gets paid at the end of next week.”
I smiled, then looked at Irish, “Imperial seems to always be better once you reheat it.”
He chuckled, started putting the rest of the containers back in the bag, and then looked at me, “Get whatever you need, I’ll meet you out front.”
I nodded, then got out of bed, shucked off my tank and pajama bottoms, and pulled on a pair of leggings and a slouchy sweater.
Then I grabbed my kit and headed out of my room, and just in time for Irish to threaten, “There’s a bag of food in the kitchen. Anyone fucks with it, and you’ll get the beatdown of your fucking life.”
I chuckled, then headed out front.
Adeline was standing beside Coal’s bike.
Irish came out then, tagged my kit and my hand, and led me to his bike.
We were on the road in just a few minutes us, following Coal and Adeline.
Irish took a turn a little faster than he should have, and I giggled.
His hand came down to rub over the back of my leg. Oh, this man.
Fifteen minutes later, we were pulling into an area that wasn’t the greatest in Fulton, Mississippi.
But with Irish and Coal, I knew that we didn’t have anything to worry about.
I climbed off the bike in front of a faded mint green single-wide trailer.
Once the bikes were cut off, the screen door opened, and a woman stood there, she was visibly shaking.
Oh, man.
Adeline smiled at her, “Hi, Ms. Combs, I’m Mrs. Adams, Paisley’s teacher. I called you before we came.”
Ms. Combs seemed to soften at that, and gone was the shaking.
Once we reached the cement steps, she smiled, “Please, call me Holly, and come in.”
A little girl was curled up under blankets on the couch in the living room. Dull eyes stared up at us.
Adeline moved first, kneeling in front of Paisley.
“Hey, Paisley. How are you feeling?” she asked her.
The little girl shrugged.
I let go of Irish’s hand, not realizing it was wrapped in his, and followed suit with Adeline.
“Hi, Paisley, my name is Sutton. It’s an honor to meet you.”
She smiled, but it was missing the spark that most little kids always seemed to have.
“So, Mrs. Adams told me that some little mean kids made fun of you, I am so sorry about that. But... It's a good thing because I get to meet an amazing little fighter.” I told her.
She smiled; a little spark came through.
I would take that.
“And you want to know something else? See the two big men behind me?” I asked her as I turned my head and looked back at Irish and Coal, then back at Paisley.
She nodded.
“I have a feeling that once we leave here tonight, they are going to pay a visit to all those mean kids and give them a good talking to. That alright with you?” I asked.
She giggled, then nodded.
Therefore, I continued, “I’ve been a hairdresser for almost two years now. I’m here to make that beautiful soul you have shine even brighter. I know this is going to be hard, but can I let you in on a little secret?”
Her eyes widened, and then she slowly nodded, “I’ve cut grown men’s hair before, and they have bawled like a baby.” I held up two fingers, “Girl code. We don’t lie to other girls.”
She giggled, then looked at her mother, and then back at me, and slowly nodded.
Once everything was set up, she was in a chair in the living room, both of her hands held by Adeline and her mother. I worked on cutting off all of her hair.
My heart broke for the little girl, and tears threatened to spill over my eyes. To hide how I was feeling, I knelt once I was finished and smiled up at her, then I whispered, “You know the good thing about having a bald head?”
She shook her head.
“You don’t have to shampoo or condition. Makes bath time so much easier and gives you more time to play. But in your case, to make works of art. My girl, Mrs. Adams, told me about all the beautiful things you create.”
With the back of her hand, she wiped at the tears on her cheek. Then I heard one of the sweetest voices I’d ever heard, “Would you like to see them?”
I smiled. If this little girl wanted to show me her art collection, then I would happily sit on my ass and marvel at each piece.
“You bet your cute little bootie I do,” I told her.
She smiled, jumped out of the chair, and ran to another part of the house.
Her mother was wiping tears from her eyes when she whispered, “You didn’t have to come. Thank you. She has a lot, if you need to leave, I’ll understand.”
I winked at her, “I gave her my word. I won't go back on it. She can have a million pieces of artwork, and I’ll look at every single one of them. If that’s alright with you.”
The entire time, I felt eyes on me, and when I looked over my shoulder at Irish, it was to see nothing but pride in his gaze.
Oh, Irish, why?
Why can’t you see what’s right in front of you?
Just as I thought that, Paisley came back into the living room, plopped on the couch, and then proceeded to show me all of her artwork.
And it was artwork.
Some of it I could make out, some of it I couldn’t, but I didn’t let it show that I couldn’t.
As I came across one picture, my breath caught. It was of a woman holding a child's hand with a rainbow in the background.
I looked at Paisley and asked, “Is this one spoken for?”
She scrunched her nose up, “What do you mean?”
I titled my head at it, “Well, most artists sell their work. So, have you already sold this one?”
She giggled, then shook her head, “No, I’m only seven.”
I gasped, “You're only seven? With talent like this? I’ve just met a masterful artist. Dang, girl.”
She giggled, then laughed.
Thankfully, I had some cash in my kit. I pulled it close and pulled the cash out and found a twenty and a ten, then I looked at Paisley and asked, “Would you take thirty dollars for this masterpiece?”
Her eyes went wide, her mouth fell open, and I couldn’t contain my chuckle.
She looked from her mom, then to me, then back to her mom, and asked, “Mommy?”
“Your first paying customer. You had your eye on that new doll. That’ll do it.” Her mom barely got the last word out when Paisley looked at me and said, “Sold.”
I grinned, then handed her the cash and said, “You have to sign it first. I want everyone to know who made this.”
She grinned, then signed her first name at the bottom corner of the page.
Then something happened. Shocked the shit out of me to be frank.
Irish moved in, then dropped to his haunches and asked, “Let me look through your artwork, too. I need something to brighten up the space above my toolbox.”
And that was how Irish had a one-of-a-kind drawing of a tree with a swing set hanging from it.
And that was also how Coal and Adeline both purchased artwork from Paisley.
Once I hugged Paisley and thanked her, I looked at Holly, “I work at Shear Salon, any time she needs something done with her hair or even your hair, y’all just call in and make an appointment with me, okay?”
She shook her head, “We can’t afford it.”
I smiled at her, “You're already affording it. That little girl already knows how much she’s loved. There’s not enough of that. And for the price of love, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make that person’s life easier.”
I tilted my head, “Tell you what, since my space at the salon looks a little drabby. My payment will be a new piece of never-before-seen artwork.”
She gaped, “Are you serious?”
“Totally,” I told her as I poured truth into that one word.
Twenty minutes later, in my bedroom, I curled into Irish and let the tears fall, “Explain to me how in the world within months, they had a shot for something they’ve never seen before, but they haven’t been able to cure cancer in children yet.”
He ran his hand through my hair, “I don’t know, baby.”
I asked, “Will you tell Coal and Adeline thank you for me?”
He nodded, not having to ask what I was asking him for.
He asked, “Ready to eat and watch the movie?”
I sighed, then shook my head, “No, I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Alright. Get some sleep. You had a hard time with that. I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He told me.
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him to stay.
But the one time I did it, I got a firm and resounding no.
Rejection hurts, so I haven’t asked him again.