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After I push my cart out of my way, I stomp off, getting the hell away from this store. It was a bad idea for me to come here today. A really bad idea.
Once outside, I see the biker sitting on his bike two spaces away. I don’t recognize him from anyone in Tennessee, so he’s probably from one of the Missouri chapters that Rax told me about.
God, thinking about him hurts. Like a physical ache. Thinking about his face while I was on the stand…
Face burning with shame and anger, I hustle to my car and start it. I have no idea where I’m going, driving around aimlessly until I stop in front of a building I didn’t think I would want to be, but knowing it’s where I belong. I need a change. And it starts here.
When I step inside the beauty salon, I look around for my best friend. Sy, the angel, sees me and opens her arms, hugging me tight. “Hey, sug,” she says, holding me at arm’s length so she can look me up and down. “You looking good for man that’s been kidnapped.” She winks at me and it feels good that someone will joke with me and not treat me with kid gloves.
Chuckling softly, I duck my head and nod. “Yeah, I’m feeling better.”
Sy looks around at the customers and other stylists. “Okay, stop staring. You’ve known Finn for decades. Shoo.” She moves her hands in a shooing motion and walks me over to her chair. “You’ve got an escort.” She looks out at the biker, who’s sitting on his chopper, arms crossed over his chest.
“Unfortunately.”
“I don’t want trouble, Finn.”
I pat the hand that’s on my shoulder. “He’s here for me, not to cause trouble. If something happens, no one will be hurt. Just me.”
She looks skeptical but doesn’t argue. The other ladies get up quickly and leave, even one with curlers still in her hair.
Sy sighs but pastes a smile on her face. “What can I do for you? You want to touch up the ends?” She asks as she pushes her fingers into my hair, fluffing the ends.
Picking up a lock, I look at it and shake my head. “Cut it.”
“Can I talk to you?” I ask my boss as I step into his office, cleaning my hands on the cloth from my back pocket.
Gordon’s head snaps up when he hears my voice. He shuffles the invoices he was looking at from in front of him and stands, gesturing to the seat in front of him. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?” He tries not to, I know he does, but he gives me the pitying look I’ve gotten used to. “I hardly recognized you, kid. Hair’s all gone.”
Nervously, I touch it, feeling self-conscious. I haven’t had short hair since I was a child. It’s still a little longer at the top, but not long enough for me to tuck it behind my ears. The sides and back are cut short and I find it weird when I feel the wind blowing against my scalp.
“I needed a change,” I say, not knowing if I quite agree. I sit down in front of him, blowing out a long breath. “Gordon, I’m sorry to do this, but I have to quit. I can’t … people have been coming in with nothing wrong with their cars, just to gawk at me. Mr. Phillip has been in twice this week for an oil change, asking me questions because he says he wants to write a bestseller about my ordeal. I can’t.”
My shoulders slump. I love it here. Work has always been my sanctuary. It has been my home when my actual home felt like a place I didn’t want to be. Now that’s taken away from me.
Gordon purses his lips. “I don’t want to lose you Finn. You’re the best we have.” I know that’s true. Most of the shit I learned, I learned from him and dad and I taught most of the guys here more than a thing or two while I’ve been working here. I grew up here. It hurts that it’s been sullied because something that happened to me. “Is there some way I can change your mind?”
I shake my head. “No. People may bother me at home, but at least I won’t have to open the door. I can’t get away from anyone here. I’m sorry to leave you like this. I can work these two weeks so you have time to hire someone.”
Gordon waves me away. “Nah. We have all the help we need. I’ll miss seeing you around here, kid. It was like working with your dad all over again.” I nod, choked up that he thinks so highly of me. My dad was the best, so to hear Gordon says that feels good and it hurts. I always wanted to be like my dad, but I wanted him to be around to see it.
Standing, I reach out to shake his hand, but he comes around and wraps me in a hug. “Good luck, Finn. I wish you well.”
Fighting back tears, I breeze to our locker room and strip out of my jumpsuit. I change into a pair of skinny jeans and a fitting sweater, feeling more comfortable in this than I did in anything I wore with Rax.
I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking away thoughts of him. It won’t serve me to think of him. He’s gone forever. And I helped put him away.
For the next few weeks, I wallow around the house. I was supposed to leave, but every application I put in for a vacant rental told me they had to wait for a background check. My mother has been hounding me, telling me she’s getting calls and will start setting up interviews if I don’t start paying her more in rent. She knows I have no way of bringing in money, so she’s hoping I’ll crack.
Before she leaves for work, she bangs on my bedroom door, telling me I have a visitor. My heart drops, thinking it’s one of the bikers, finally fed up with me hiding inside. Then I realize it has to be a local or my mom would have put on her motherly voice and turned up the small-town hospitality charm. She spoke to me with disinterest, so I know it has to be a Reverdale native.
Sheriff Tate is standing just inside the living room, hat tucked under his arm, looking extremely uncomfortable. He dips his head at my mother as she leaves and turns to me. I offer him a seat, which he takes and grab him a glass of water.
After I hand it to him and take a seat, he takes a sip, then puts it on the coffee table, rubbing his hands on his pants. “Finnegan. You’re looking well. I like your hair like that. You look more … you look different.”
I know what he means to say. I look more like a man and not a girl, dolled up with the ends of my hair a flamboyant color. He should just say that and skip the pleasantries.
Self-consciously, I run my hand through it. I’m still not used to it. I’ve been back to have Sy trim it and cut the back. She says it brings out my eyes more than the long hair, which hid my expression. I’ll have to take her word for it.
