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Oh, yeah.
I planned to see a fuckuva lot of Kennedy.
But not before I got her to beg for it.
Yeah, that was the hand I was going to play.FIVEKennedy- 2 days laterSundays were the slowest day of the week at the shop.
You wouldn't think that. You would think that it's the day that everyone is off from work and had time to get their hair and nails done.
As it turned out, that was not the case.
Maybe it was a mix of the religious going to church, the soccer moms with whatever practice little Timmy and Jenny had to cart them to and from, and the frazzled working lady trying to cram a weeks' worth of errands into one afternoon.
But whatever the reason, we almost always sat around twiddling our thumbs.
Usually, I sent Benny home half-day so he could go enjoy some rare free time with his boyfriend. But Ricardo was on some kind of shoot for the day, so Benny was on his own. Apparently, he preferred to spend his free time with me. Which, given how awesome he was, was really flattering to me.
"Doesn't anyone give a shit about going to work on a Monday with chipped nails?" he asked, standing suddenly and pacing.
Benny was a ball of energy. He could work all day and night without losing steam, without losing his abundant upbeat charm. But give him ten minutes of downtime to flip through a magazine, and he was miserable.
"Maybe I should reconsider staying open Sundays," I mused, knowing it was unlikely. Because every little bit helped. If someone was just walking around town, got a wild hair about some new cut or color, we were there to give it to them and get some extra money.
"Maybe we should..." he started, getting cut off by the bell.
It was a sound that almost always filled me with hope. One more client, one more payment, one more day closer to being solvent again, to having a bit of my confidence back.
But as I watched Benny's grin go wicked, I had a gut feeling that whoever had come in wasn't suddenly in need of a three-hundred dollar makeover.
"Typically, our clientele is female," he practically purred at who must have been a man.
"Yeah? 'Cause with a shop that looks like a snatch, I'd think men would be the ones more fucking likely to pull up a seat."
So Niro was in my shop again.
After that weird feel-up thing and then brisk goodbye two nights before, I had been on edge thinking he was going to pop up at any moment. I wanted to tell myself that it was nervousness that made me feel that way, but it was perfectly clear that it was excitement, anticipation, a desire so strong they needed a new freaking word for it.
It was crazy.
I didn't know him.
There was no way I should have been so into him.
I had always been a bit more cerebral about my choices in men. It had more to do with personality than looks, and I had never been the type of woman to drool over some random hot guy.
Then again, Niro wasn't just any random hot guy I passed on the street. He had something. And I wanted more of it.
Despite my better sense.
"Your hair seems freshly cut," Benny said, engaging him while I was still too chicken to turn around. "Are you here for a manicure?"
At that, I couldn't help it, I turned, smile pulling at my lips, my cheeks maybe the slightest bit pink.
"Do I seem like the kind of man to get his nails painted?" he asked, but it wasn't snippy, his tone was light, amused. "Hey pet," he called to me, the words making my belly do a wobbling thing that was at once weird and completely delicious.
I had a sudden, ridiculous, and almost overwhelming surge of insecurity, wishing I had chosen something other than my plain jean shorts, white tee, blue and white striped ballet flats, and a long gold necklace.
Hell, my hair hadn't even gotten any attention that morning, knowing it was a waste on a Sunday, and it was gross out, so I just wrapped it into a side braid and called it a day.
"Oh, ah, hey," I mumbled, feeling awkward.
"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Benny asked, clearly thinking Niro and I had gotten better acquainted.
Meanwhile I freaking still didn't know his name.
As if knowing exactly what my dilemma was, Niro's face broke into a devilish little smile, making him seem all the more trouble than you already thought he was by glancing at him.
"The fuck you been calling me in your head when you're wet-dreaming over me over the past week?"
Oh good lord.
Could one die of embarrassment? Because I was pretty sure I was just about to.
"Niro," Benny supplied, making me aware that it was, in fact, possible to be even more mortified than I already was.
