“What an asshole.” He sighed and fell into the seat behind the register again. “Do you think we’ll ever get rid of him from next door? I thought he would have left by now with all his whining.”
“I hope he never leaves,” I said quietly enough that Oli couldn’t hear. Chuckling again, I moved to my chair and grabbed my cart, opening the drawers to make sure I had everything I needed for my clients. I usually used a toolbox for my equipment, but I’d recently bought the carts because they were easier. The door opened again, the bell jingling, and I peered over my shoulder, hoping Quain was back for another round. I grinned anyway when Uncle Errol gave me a cheerful wave as he strode into the shop. I’d forgotten he was getting back into town this morning from his road trip.
He winked at Oli, too. “Hello, boy. How’s my nephew been treating you?”
Oli lit up. Everyone did around Errol. He was the crazy uncle everyone loved, and he’d never really grown up. Give him something to explode in his backyard any day and he was the happiest man alive. “Hey, Errol. How’s life treating you?”
Errol laughed, patting his belly. “I have food in my belly and whores at my disposal. I’m a happy man.”
I rolled my eyes and shook a pair of scissors at him. “Don’t be telling a seventeen-year-old boy that. He’s a virgin.”
Oli’s cheeks flushed red and he glared at me. “I am not a virgin, and I know all about whores.”
“Do you?” Errol’s grin was mischievous as he leaned on the counter near the register. “Women or men?”
“Uncle Errol,” I said sharply. Oli’s mother would never forgive me for this type of shit. While Oli had gotten the job himself, his mother was a friend of the club’s. Oli’s father, Cain, went to the big house a few years back for drugs, and as far as I knew, Oli’s parents had a short-lived relationship that had barely made it past a couple months. But Darla was nice. Cain? Not so much. He was an angry motherfucker who wanted nothing to do with his kid. “Come over here and get a haircut, you old bastard. I need to do something with that scraggly beard of yours.”
Errol howled in laughter, and I shook my head in amusement as he swaggered his way over to my seat. He sat down with more chuckles and slapped himself on his rounded gut. His gray beard was shaggier and longer than usual, and his hair was a wild mess, nearly reaching his shoulders. The only reason he was here was because I’d ordered him to get his wrinkly ass to the shop for a free haircut when he got home.
“Who was that pretty, young guy who walked out before I came in?” He waggled his eyebrows at me through the mirror. “You doing the hanky-panky with him?”
“Hanky-panky? What’s that?” Oli leaned his elbows on the counter, squinting in confusion at us.
I snorted. “Old-timer saying.”
“Hey now, I’m not that old.” Errol grunted when I grabbed the cape and spread it over his chest, buttoning it up around his neck.
“Bullshit. You’re ancient.”
He pointed his finger at me through the mirror. “You don’t forget who raised you.”
“Raised me?” I laughed. “I came here when I was sixteen. Pretty sure I was past the raising age, Uncle Errol.”
“Yeah, but I showed you how to blow shit up and hunt. You use those kinds of skills these days, don’t you?” He shook his head and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes with a sigh. “Which reminds me, your dad called. He asked about you.”
Ice seeped through my veins and I curled my hand into a fist at my side. Straightening my shoulders, I stared at his reflection. “What did you tell him?”
“The truth—that you still don’t want to talk to him.” His face softened in sympathy.
I grunted. “I bet he didn’t like that.”
Glancing at Oli, I was relieved to see he wasn’t listening to our conversation. He had buds shoved into his ears and his head was bobbing in time with whatever music he had blaring. It was only seven thirty, but he’d be going to school soon. His backpack was beside his feet, near my bag, but it was open, and he had a book out on the counter. Studying, probably. As much as he wanted to be a tattoo artist, he was a genius, too. He aced tests and assignments, and in some ways, I felt like a father to him. I was proud.
“Your dad doesn’t like anything he has no control over.” He tapped his fingers impatiently on the arm of the chair. Errol got as anxious as me when it came to my father. “It’s why you hit heads all the time.”
I snorted. “He’s a controlling fucker.”
“And you’re the younger version of me.” His chest rumbled with laughter. “It’s why your father and I never got along when we were kids, either.”
I grabbed my scissors from the cart and shrugged as I got to work on his silver hair first. “Yeah, well it’s none of his fucking business how I am. He never cared when I packed my shit, and he has no right to give a fuck now.”
Errol grunted in agreement. “Are you gonna tell me about the cutie that left your shop?” His brown eyes twinkled knowingly, and I shook my head at him.
“No.” I smirked.
“I’m your uncle.”
“And we both know what you’re like. I don’t want you scheming.” Clumps of hair littered the floor around my feet. By the time I was done, he’d have a neat cut, not the chaos he had now. “I’m not looking for anything but a fuck.”
