Chapter 14 #3
When you were the daughter of the biggest gossip in town, you butted into everything because your mother taught you to. Annabeth strode over to what she called the hair chair and tapped the back of it.
“Sit. This is going to be fun.”
Fifteen minutes rolled time back five years.
That’s all it took.
Fifteen minutes.
First, she cut the beard off in chunks with scissors, leaving it short and scraggly until the end. Then she began cutting his hair, thick waves falling to the floor.
“Short in back? Quarter inch?”
“Whatever’s stylish. A little longer in the front, but not too long.”
“Like you had it five years ago?”
“Yeah. Been a long time.”
“I remember. My salon was still at my house then. We’ve both made a lot of changes, Kell.”
“Sure have.”
“But you’re not planning to move back to D.C.?”
“Hell, no. I told you, not moving.”
She was cutting the front now. As the hair disappeared, he saw the shape of his temples again, the lines of his face emerging like she was a sculptor turning marble into a person.
“All these years, you’ve looked like the lumberjack you are. Now you don’t fit the part.”
“Lots of tree guys have short hair and no beard.”
“Lots of tree guys aren’t you, Kell.”
Time to pull out the grunts and go quiet.
By the time she finished shaving him, brushing off the stray hairs, buzzing with the clippers along his neckline and sideburns, he was antsy from sitting so long and starting to second-guess himself.
What if Rachel didn’t like it? What if he was going overboard? What if he was over-assuming?
And what the hell did he think was going to happen on February 15, when she had a meeting with Lucinda and Boyce and… finished her project, left Luview, and went back to L.A.?
Emotionally investing himself like this in tonight’s date was out of proportion to reality.
And yet he didn’t care, because it felt so good.
“Oh. My. Goodness! Kellan Luview, look at you!” Annabeth gushed as she pulled off the cape and turned the chair to face the mirror, revealing him to himself. She held up a mirror behind him so he could see what he was now feeling, his hand riding up the closely cropped back of his head.
His head felt like a helium balloon.
“That hair weighed a lot.”
They looked down at the piles of dark brown hair circling his chair.
“Looks like a couple of ferrets,” she said.
“You have fun with that.”
Laughing, she began to sweep it all up, the dustpan needing to be emptied twice.
He put cash on the counter under the mirror, including a hefty tip.
“Thank you.” Rubbing his clean-shaven face, he marveled at how cold his skin felt. “This is–it’s been a while.”
“You haven’t had a haircut in five years, Kell.” She peered at him. “Unless you’ve been cheating on me with some other stylist?”
“Nope. Just trimmed it myself once in a while.”
“If every customer were like you, I’d be out of business. You want to schedule an appointment for six weeks from now, to keep it like this?”
“Let me think about it. Not sure I’m sticking to this look.”
“You look good either way, Kell.” Annabeth was a few years older than him, single, and had her eye on his brother Luke.
One of the many women who decided a single dad with a solid job and no thoughts of ever leaving town was a hot prospect, she was part of the gaggle of women trying to win him over.
Which took the heat off Kell.
“Thanks. Off to my next errand. Talk to you later, Annabeth.”
“You, too. And I got the video. It’s going on TikTok!”
“Do people seriously like to watch some dude getting a haircut?”
“It’s the transformation that matters. People love to watch other people change. It gives them hope.”
Grabbing the suit bag, he headed for the dry cleaners, her last words echoing in his mind.
When he entered Labrecque’s, Moore was already there. The whistle he let out would have turned heads, but only Grady, the owner, was there to hear.
“Look at you, Kell! You remind me of those videos on YouTube of the stray dogs. Their hair’s all long and matted, then they shave the poor things and suddenly, there’s a dog underneath.”
“Shut up.”
“Who’s the lucky woman? It’s Rachel, isn’t it?”
“You met her?”
“No, but Colleen did. And everybody’s talking about her rant.”
Plunking the suit on the counter, Kell looked at Grady and said, “Can I just work with you and ignore him?”
Grady was about his parents’ age. Kell knew him, but since he almost never went into the dry cleaner’s, it was more surface level. Grady was single, had no children, and lived with his mother, Judy.
“I’ll get Grandma,” Grady said, disappearing into the back of the shop. Kell gave Moore a look.
“I thought you said Anya is Grady’s grandmother.”
“Yep. Grady calls her Grandma, but she’s actually Judy’s grandma. She’s, like, ninetysomething.”
“That’s not possible! Isn’t Grady my mom’s age?”
“Grady’s around forty-five. Judy had him young.”
Kell did some math. “Really young. Must have been in high school.”
“Guess so. Judy’s mom is in a retirement village in Florida. Anya’s up here. Refuses to quit working.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Speaks a little English, enough anyway. Stays to herself.”
“Where’s she from?”
Moore frowned. “Maybe Poland? Not sure.”
“And she knows what she’s doing?”
“You don’t exactly have a lot of choices, dude.”
“True.”
An old woman who looked like a raisin with gray hair hobbled to the counter and looked up at Kell with a huge grin.
“Suit?” she said, reaching for the bag.
“Yes,” he said, suddenly awkward. “It’s too small.”
“Too small?” She waved her hand at the bag. “No do.”
“No do?”
“Not enough fabric.”
He unzipped the bag and showed her. As she looked at the seams, her eyes grew wider.
“So much allowance! This custom?”
“It was made for me, yes.”
Stroking the seam like it was a lapdog, she marveled at it, grinning even wider.
“Good work. I do. Come back.” She motioned to the rear of the store. “Take off pants.”
Moore snickered.
Kell followed her, feeling like Paul Bunyan behind the tiny woman. One gust of wind could blow her away.
She pointed to a small partition. “Put on suit.”
“It’s tight.”
“Okay.” She stared at him.
He did as ordered, his poor crotch practically holding its breath. As he hobbled out, she burst into braying laughter.
“You fold in half,” she finally gasped. She began touching him like he was a mannequin. “Waist too big. Crotch too small. Thighs very tight. You change!”
“I used to work at a desk. Now I work in the trees. I’m a tree guy.”
“Dean son.”
“Yes!”
“Dean nice. Deanna very nice. Deanna want wedding. You having wedding?”
“I’m just going on a date.”
“Deanna need more grandchild.”
Oh, boy. Did his mother arrange this conversation?
“If you can’t let out the crotch in these pants, Anya, that’s not happening.”
It was clear from her giggle that her understanding of English was actually very good.
Using a measuring tape, some pins, and a little piece of chalk, she finished examining everything, and finally said, “I fix. How fast you need?”
“Can you do it today?”
She nodded. “Moore said. Seams easy. Your tailor left enough.”
“My date is at 8:00.”
“I have done by 6:30.”
On impulse, he kissed her. As he pulled away, she laughed.
“Deanna get no grandchild from me. Save kiss for date.”
Pressing his palm over his heart, he said, “You’re the one who got away.”
A wave of dismissal combined with a laugh was all he got. He stepped behind the partition, took off the suit carefully, put on his clothes, and handed the jacket and pants to her.
“I fix fast. 6:30.”
“You’re an angel.”
At those words, she reached up to a necklace she wore and began mouthing what sounded like a prayer. Grady motioned to him to head back to the front of the store.
“See you at 6:30. It’s a rush job, so…” Grady rang up the fee, which Kell happily paid as Moore double-thumbed a text on his phone.
Once it was done, he turned to Moore and said, “Bilbee’s? Lunch?”
“Hell, yeah. I think Luke’s there already.”
“You invited him?”
“No one’s invited, Kell. People just come.”
“Right.”
As they walked toward Bilbee’s, people who knew him called out, loads of “Hey, pretty boy!” and “Kell!” in surprised tones.
Not in the mood to deal with it, he waved and walked faster.
He hadn’t realized how much his beard and long hair had acted as a shield, a wall to hide behind.
Even the air felt like an assault, sharp and stinging. He felt exposed, vulnerable.
Raw.
Because he was.
When they passed Tom, the town manager, and he didn’t even wave, Kell realized that he was actually unrecognizable to some people.
Hmm. Maybe that was the upside here.
“WHOA!”
As they walked into Bilbee’s, which was very full for lunch, Luke had a table with Allen, Kell’s assistant, and–
Oh, no.
Dad and, of all people, Maisy.
She was a perfectly nice woman and, if they weren’t related, he’d find her hot, but the Luviews were strict about, you know, marrying outside the bloodlines.
Maisy, however, had different standards. As Kell looked over at the table, her jaw dropped.
“Kell?” she screeched, jumping up and winding her way through the crowd to reach him.
Moore twisted his neck and grinned, pretending to study a menu that he knew by heart.
At lunch, Rider had plenty of servers, but all the locals knew it was easier to order at the counter and let the waitresses deliver.
“Hey, Maisy.”
“What did you do to your hair? Your face?” she gasped.
“Oh.” He rubbed his chin. “Just wanted a change.”
“It’s HORRIBLE!” she groaned, making Kell smile.
“It is?”
“YES! You look AWFUL!”
Who knew the way to turn Maisy off was a simple shave and a haircut?
“Sorry.”
“Ugh! You just… ugh!” Turning on her heel, she went back to the table, snatched her coat, and left abruptly.
His dad looked at him and put his palms out in a questioning gesture. Kell shrugged back.
Women, Dean mouthed.
Kell gave him a thumbs up.