WE NEED U NOW.
I’M SERIOUS, C, COME TO THE SALON ASAP
R U IGNORING ME?
“Is there something wrong?” Ian asks me from the seat to my left.
My boobs bounce uncomfortably as we taxi up to the gate. Why do they always have such bumpy airports around here?
I text Jorge back and tell him to keep his pants on. We’re at least a half hour from the big reveal. The entire salon is freaking out about me bringing a man back with me, a cowboy no less. They made me ask Ian to wear his cowboy hat. I have to admit, it still gives me the chills to see him standing there in ass-hugging jeans and a black hat.
I sigh. “You never know with Jorge. He could be serious, he could be having a dramatic moment.”
“A dramatic moment?”
I try to smile. “My partner is prone to drama. He’s very … high energy.”
“Sounds like my kind of guy.”
“Heh, heh … well, he’s not … exactly.”
Ian frowns. “I don’t get it.”
I decide to just put it out there and see what happens. “Jorge is gay.”
Ian sits there doing nothing.
I lift my eyebrows at him.
“Am I supposed to say something now?” he asks.
“I kind of expected you to, yes.”
He looks like he’s thinking hard. “Okay, how about if I saaaay … good for him? Does that work?”
I nudge him, some of my stress leaving my chest. At least I know he’s not homophobic. “That works. But I’m warning you … he’s not just a little gay, he’s very gay.”
“I wasn’t aware that there were levels of gayness. What level is he?”
I know he’s messing with me, but I play along anyway. “He’s a level eleven out of ten.”
Ian smiles. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m gay too.”
My heart stops for a split second until I see his expression. I laugh out of relief. “You’re ridiculous.”
“No, you’re ridiculous. You’re so worried about everything. I can’t wait to meet Jorge because Jorge is your partner. He’s been with you for over ten years, most of the hours of the day. If I’m going to convince you to fall in love with me, he’ll know how to make that happen. I’m counting on him to save my love life.”
I cuddle his arm and rest my head on his thick shoulder. “I am in love with you, silly.”
“You might love me a little, but I need you to love me all the way.”
I have no response for that. I know all of him but he only knows a piece of me, the vacation Candice. Will he still want to be with me when he knows the real me, the every-other-week-of-the-year Candice? That still remains to be seen.
I’m not doing it on purpose, but a piece of my heart is holding itself back, waiting to see if it’s worth the risk to totally let go and hand itself over to Ian for the taking. It’s been crushed too many times to believe that two-way love really exists.
The plane finally stops bumping along and we’re able to get off and find our luggage in the baggage claim. My car is covered in dust from local construction, but it starts up without a problem and gets us on the highway in no time.
“I like your car,” Ian says. “I’ve always wanted a sports car like this. And it’s black too, my favorite.”
Last year I splurged and bought myself a midlife crisis car, even though I’m still at least fifteen years away from that event, hopefully. “Do you want to drive it?” I ask.
“Later. When I get the lay of the land a little. Besides,” he reaches over and rubs my thigh, “I kind of like watching you shift those gears.”
A flash of Hannah Banana comes to mind and I smile. That poor misguided girl. She ended up with no friends by the time we departed. Ginny cut her out and so did all those other girls who are now buddying up to Andie. She’s going to have to leave town to find someone who will give her the time of day.
“Hey, what was that secret you had on Hannah?” I ask, as the showdown in the diner memory surfaces and dances around in my head.
“What?”
“Remember when we were in the diner and you threatened to tell her secret? Something about the fourth of July? Was it about Boog?”
“Nah. It was about Tate Montgomery. Boog is Hannah’s half-brother and he gives her tons of shit, so she didn’t want him knowing about Tate. She doesn’t want anyone knowing about him. I guess he’s her super secret love crush or whatever. She told me about it when she was wasted at a picnic.”
I’m frowning trying to work that out in my mind. “I thought she was hot for Mack.”
“She was, but after Andie came to town, she abandoned that fantasy. Apparently one night Tate and her shared a kiss or some such nonsense.”
“Aw, poor girl. Tate seems like a nice guy.”
“Tate’s all right. He needs to keep his hands off my girl, though.”
I smile. I’m Ian’s girl. It’s official. It thrills me and panics me in equal measure.
I spend the rest of the drive pointing out exits or places of interest, things I want him to see before he leaves. He bought a round trip ticket so there wouldn’t be any pressure on us, or so he claims. I’m not sure that it’s working, but whatever makes him happy. The closer we get to the salon, the more nervous I become.
When I pull into my parking space, I have to stop and do some deep breathing before I can get out. Ian’s standing behind the car when I finally emerge.
“You look like you’re about to drop,” he says, taking me into a warm embrace. He kisses my head as I wrap my arms around him and hold tight. “Just relax, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”
“It is?”
“Yes. Finer than fine. Now come on.” He pushes me off him and holds my hand. “Show me to your salon. I want to see your whole life, starting now.”
“Okay.” I walk down the sidewalk in the heels I changed into once we were off the plane, loving the feeling of solid ground that doesn’t slip under my feet. I’m so much more graceful in Florida than I am in Oregon. “So this is the street that my salon is on. Some evenings the town has big events and this place is packed.”
“It’s nice. Is that a trolley?”
“Yes, but not on tracks. It’s just a glorified shuttle.”
“I like it.”
So far, so good. I smile nervously. “And up there you can see my salon. See the awning?”
“Yep. Looks pretty nice from here.”
I let go of Ian so I can text Jorge. THE EAGLE HAS LANDED.
Chapter Forty-Seven
WE’RE STILL TEN FEET FROM the front door when it flies open and Jorge comes running out on tippy toes.
“Oh my god, she’s here! She’s back! And she brought a beau hunk with her!”
Jorge has convinced someone to shave a side part into his hair for him. The rest of his hair is greased down and slicked into place, the top part still poofy, and a couple curly cues are stuck along the edges of his face for effect. He’s looks like Prince, but the Prince you’d see in an Alice In Wonderland book. He’s also wearing his favorite red skinny jeans paired with a hot pink top that he’s tied at the bottom.
I speak in a low voice. “See? Level eleven.”
Ian whispers back. “Nah, I think he’s more a nine, if you ask me.”
I giggle as Jorge approaches, unable to hold in my happiness at seeing my friend and partner. He really is a special person. “Incoming!” I say in a sing-song voice, letting go of Ian and opening my arms for the embrace I’m about to be tackled with.
Jorge reaches me and wraps his long, skinny arms around me and squeezes while he squeals. “Ooooooo, giiiirl, I have missed you soooo much. Don’t you ever, ever, ever, ever, ever go away for that long again.” He separates himself for a few seconds to look at Ian before going back to hugging me again. “Or just take me with you next time,” he whispers in my ear. “Holy hot cowboy, Candice!”
I know Ian can hear him,
but he’s pretending like he doesn’t. He’s just standing there waiting to be introduced, wearing that cowboy hat, a t-shirt and jeans. He’s getting appreciative stares from pretty much anyone walking by, man or woman. For the first time since I met Ian, I’m feeling jealous. What if he falls in love with someone else while he’s out here?
Jorge lets me go and stands up straight to face Ian. He rests his hands on his butt and bends this way and that, getting a good luck at my cowboy lover.
“So you are the one man who finally made the cut.”
“Jorge, shush,” I say, worried about what Ian will think. I didn’t tell Ian that I’ve never brought a man back to the salon before. This place has always been my safe zone, my home away from home. No man has ever made the cut before Ian, Jorge is right about that.
“I guess I am,” Ian says, holding out a hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you. You must be Jorge.”
Jorge slaps Ian’s hand away and opens his arms. “Hugs. We only do hugs around here.”
Ian nods. “If you say so.” He steps in and gives Jorge a hug, which I fully expect to be awkward at best. But he surprises both me and Jorge by grabbing Jorge in a bear hug and lifting him up off the ground for a second before putting him back down and letting him go.
Jorge lets out a girly scream as soon as his feet leave the ground. His facial expression is classic, and I hate that I don’t have my camera ready. He’s in shock, and believe me when I say it takes a lot to shock Jorge.
“Oh my … now that is what I call a hug.” Jorge fans his face, and it’s not just an act. He’s sweating.
“Okay, hormones, relax,” I say. “Let’s go inside where it’s air conditioned.”
“You use air conditioning in the winter?” Ian asks, following Jorge inside.
“Yes. It gets so humid the walls will mold if we don’t. Plus we have the dryers going and all the irons. It gets warm in here even in winter.”
Ian nods his head all the while he’s walking around inside the foyer area. The granite fountain is burbling water into the small koi pond in the floor and the marble tiles make my heels click as I walk over to the reception area. The essential oils we diffuse into the air usually have an immediate calming effect on me, but today they’re not working. I feel like I’m walking the gauntlet with Ian. Will he hate it here? Will he hate my friends? So far things are looking good, but there are a couple more potential roadblocks in the way.
As we approach the front desk, I hold my hand out towards the small, dark-skinned man sitting behind it. “Ian, this is Sunil. Sunil, this is Ian.”
“The cowboy. We’ve heard all about you.” Sunil stands and offers a well-manicured hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“You can call me Ian if that’s all right with you,” he says, shaking Sunil’s hand.
“Of course, Ian. And you may call me Sunny if you like. All my friends do.”
Ian beams.
I’m sweating right along with Jorge. Two down, several to go, but if the appreciative gaze on Jorge’s face and the smile on Sunil’s is any indication, I’m nearly home free.
I walk into the main area of the salon, gesturing around the room. All the chairs are full, but everyone stops working to say hi or wave. I know they’ll all be accosting us later to get all the details from me. For now they have clients to tend to.
“These are the stations Jorge and I rent out to several colorists and stylists. The shampoo stations are over there. In the back we have massage and waxing rooms, manicures, and other spa treatments.”
“Wow, seems like you have it all here.” Ian nods as his gaze sweeps the room. He smiles and waves back at people greeting him.
“We try.” I’m proud and scared. I know we have a nice place, but how much can a cowboy who castrates bulls for a living appreciate a spa salon?
Jorge is standing on Ian’s other side. “Take your hat off for me, Ian, baby.”
Ian takes his hat off without question and stands there ready for inspection, as unfazed as I’ve ever seen him. It’s like he’s actually enjoying himself being the center of attention, the alien who’s landed on foreign ground.
Jorge runs his fingers through Ian’s hair. “Oh my goodness. So thick and healthy!”
“I’m cutting it later,” I say, winking at Ian.
“Lucky girl,” Jorge says, staring at some of Ian’s ends more closely. “Not a split end in sight. What kind of product do you use?”
“Shampoo. From the grocery store.”
Jorge looks at me behind Ian’s back, his eyebrows formed into the letter S across his forehead. “Is he pulling my leg?”
“Nope. He’s kind of a purist I guess you could say.”
Jorge has his finger on his lip and he’s shaking his head, back to inspecting Ian’s hair. “What I could do with a man like you. Mm. Mm. Mmmm.”
I laugh. “Is Mildred here?”
Jorge rolls his eyes and shakes his head, like a really unpleasant thought is inside it and he wants to get it out. “She’s in the back. Getting her talons done.”
I look up at Ian. “Are you ready?”
For the first time in the trip, Ian looks a little concerned.
“I don’t know. Am I?”
I take him by the arm and lead him towards the back. “This is the last person I want you to meet. She’s been coming in here every week, three times a week, since Jorge and I opened our doors. She’s our most regular regular.”
“Your most regular regular?”
“Yes. And she hates everyone.”
“Everyone? Even you?”
“Even me. Even Jorge. Even Sunny. She doesn’t have a nice bone in her body.”
“So what you’re saying is be prepared to be hated.”
“Essentially, yes.” I lower my voice and speak closer to his ear. “Don’t tell Jorge that I said this, but deep down inside her is a nice person fighting to get out. But she’s not shy about telling you exactly what she thinks, so I’m kind of curious what she’s going to say when she sees you.”
“Is she older?” he whispers
“Yes. In her eighties by now, although she won’t tell us the actual number.”
“I’m a little scared, I’ll be honest. Grandma Lettie whooped me with a broomstick once and I never forgot it.”
“I remember her from the wedding last year. Trust me … she’s an angel compared to Mildred.”
We stop just outside the entrance to the manicure area. “You ready?” I ask, nervous. I’ve never told anyone this, not even Jorge, but I kind of view Mildred as the grandmother I never had. She’s got a sharp tongue and zero grace when it comes to interacting with people, but she’s told me some things over the years that have really helped me, the first thing being that I should take Jorge on as a partner. She recognized early on that he had the energy level and the know-how to make things happen for us. She saw a compatibility between Jorge and me that most people would have missed. She pretends to hate him but I know otherwise. I let Jorge get his panties in a twist over her because it makes everyone happy. Jorge loves nothing more than drama.
“I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Ian says, wiggling his hat on his head a little, effectively drawing it down closer to his eyes. It makes him look sexier and I decide right then and there that if Mildred can hate this guy, she has no soul. That’s all there is to it.
“Follow me,” I say, walking into the back room.
Mildred isn’t alone. Our manicurist is there and another client is waiting for her polish to dry, reading a magazine as she passes the time, her eyelids threatening to fall closed. I have on more than one occasion left people to nap when I knew they didn’t have pressing appointments after their session with us. It always seemed silly to me to create a relaxing environment and then hurry people out of it.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the galavanting Sally back to grace us with her presence,” Mildred says, looking up at me through her Coke-bottle-thick glasses.
“Hello, Mildred. How
have you been? I’ve missed you.” I kiss my hand and wave it at her. She’s not much for physical touching but she suffers through my air-kisses.
“Same as always. Not dead yet but one foot in the grave.” She shifts her gaze to Ian. “And what, pray tell is this?” She gestures with a boney finger in Ian’s direction.
I put my hand on Ian’s arm and smile. “This is Ian. I brought him back with me from Oregon.”
“What for?” Mildred squints up at him, staring at his hat. “You gonna marry him?”
My jaw drops open and my face burns red. “Uhhh …” Ian and I haven’t talked marriage. Yes, we’ve discussed him living out here, but that was it. I’m so embarrassed right now it’s not even funny. I wish I could turn back time and bring Ian in here on a day that Mildred wasn’t going to be around.
Ian walks over and takes a seat in the chair next to Mildred. “Maybe. If I can convince her it’s a good idea.”
Mildred snorts. “Good luck with that.” She turns her attention to the manicurist. “Hey! Watch it there, girl. I have sensitive cuticles, you know.” She looks over at Ian. “It’s so hard to find good help these days. The incompetence is everywhere.”
Ian leans over and looks at Mildred’s toes. “They look pretty good to me.” He points at the heel of her foot that’s the current work in progress. “What do you call that?”
Mildred leans over and looks at her feet. “What do I call what?”
“What she’s doing to your foot there. Looks like she’s got a cheese grater in her hand.”
Mildred cackles. “Sure does, doesn’t it? Never thought of it that way.”
Ian looks worried. “You sure you want her cheese-gratin’ your feet?”
“Feels good. Leaves ‘em baby smooth. You should try it. Bet you’ll like it.”
Ian shakes his head. “No, ma’am. I like my feet where they belong. In my boots.”
Mildred waves at Jorge who’s hiding behind me at the entrance. “Hey, twinkle toes! Why don’t you come on in here and do his feet? Bet he could use a little cheese gratin’!”
Jorge’s mouth drops open and he stares at me.
I shrug, completely at a loss.
“You think I should?” Ian asks Mildred. “I don’t know. Looks a little dangerous. She’s got a sharp thing on you now. Better watch it.” Ian points to the cuticle nippers that are working on Mildred’s big toe. She’s prone to hang nails.