Hair Calamities and Hot Cash.

by Gail Pallotta

  “Just so my hair turns out like that.” He pointed to his selection.

  “It will.” I patted him on the shoulder then went to the supply cabinet and searched the products on the second shelf. Seeing the boxes triggered thoughts of Philip putting them up for me. My muscles tightened. He had to be all right. Why didn’t he call? Didn’t he know I was getting more frantic over his situation every hour? I mixed the dye and developer, shook them in the application bottle, and returned to Ralph.

  He relaxed his thin shoulders and sat back in the chair as I parted off his hair. Starting at the roots, I applied the dye. The strong scent mixed with the paint odor made my head throb. He gazed in the mirror with a fascinated look as though I was creating a work of art.

  “The way I see it, I didn’t need to drive thirty miles to the city to have my hair dyed. Everybody knows you’re just as good, maybe better than those uptown hairstylists, and you’re right next door.”

  Working in the foul odor just grew worthwhile. “Why, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I finished dying Ralph’s thin hair quickly and fished a motorcycle magazine off the vanity for him. “You might enjoy this while you wait.”

  “Thanks.” His lips turned up slightly as he clasped the periodical and leaned back in his chair.

  I set the timer then swept up the clippings from Alice’s haircut and straightened the combs and brushes.

  Buzzing in fifteen minutes signaled blond for Ralph. I tapped him on the arm, and his eyes sparkled as though he couldn’t wait to see the new look.

  “I’m ready to rinse your hair.”

  He laid down the magazine, bounded to the shampoo bowl, and leaned back. The warm water I ran through his hair trickled onto my arm as I glanced at his head. Red? Suddenly my spirits fell. I turned up the spigot and flooded his hair as I worked my fingers through the strands. Fire engine red.

  The nozzle swirled in the sink as I grabbed up the shampoo bottle, poured a little in my hand, and rubbed it into Ralph’s mane, washing it again. Rinsing it, I held the sprayer close to his head. The clear liquid pulsated through his hair until the suds disappeared. Red. My hands shook as I turned off the faucet. “Ralph, I’ll be right back.”

  He rose up and stuck out his long neck. “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t think so.” Even though I never would’ve ordered a bright red dye, I trekked across the room and checked the color of the formula I’d used. Thank goodness, I didn’t accidentally do anything wrong. “No Ralph, we’re in good shape. I’ll give you another shampoo.”

  “Whatever you say.” He leaned back.

  I scrubbed so hard I worried I might irritate Ralph’s scalp, but he lay as still as a rock. It was as though he’d endure anything to look like the man Jane admired so much. I raised him up, and my knees nearly buckled. “Ralph, this isn’t the shade I mixed, but I...”

  “What are you saying?” His face turned white.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” I couldn’t keep my voice from cracking.

  He jumped up, threw off the cape, and stared in the mirror above the shampoo bowl. His lips trembled. His eyes widened, and he blew through his nose like a bull.

  My heart pounded against my ribs as I yanked up the shampoo and conditioner bottles from the shelf behind the shampoo bowl. Taking ragged breaths I grabbed the towels and capes and held them against my chest. “I’ll dye it again for nothing. I promise I’ll fix it like you want.”

  He glared at me.

  Would Ralph hit me? I shook inside.

  “I think you’ve done quite enough.” He stomped out of the shop, the door slamming behind him.

  My headache pounded. Too dizzy to stand, I sank into the chair at my desk. I couldn’t hold back the tears cascading down my cheeks. I must’ve cried for an hour before I wiped them and picked up the receiver to my landline.

  “Hi Janet, this is Eve Castleberry, I’m so sorry, but I’m really sick.”

  “Yeah. You sound all stopped up. I hope you get better soon. Could I come next Tuesday?”

  The disappointment lining Janet’s voice rubbed against my nerves like the sandpaper Pete and Charlie used. Logically, I should have written her into my appointment book. I had to make a living. Right now though, I couldn’t take one more thing going wrong. What if I ruined her hair, or rather, my products did? It’d gotten to the point where I’d rather pick up a snake than one of my supplies, and snakes gave me the willies. “My head hurts so bad I can’t see the schedule.” If I closed the shop now, at least I’d save my reputation and my friends. “Uh, Janet, I’ll be closing Eve’s Clips.”

  “Oh, until you feel better. OK, we’ll talk then.”

  I didn’t have the energy to clarify or argue, so I said nothing. I hung up then informed my other customers the shop would shut down permanently. They’d tell Janet and everyone else in town by midnight. Nonetheless, I’d put out a “closed” sign tomorrow. I locked up and sobbed, my shoulders shaking all the way to the house.

  The foyer and hall seemed miles long as I trod down them to the bedroom, my mind in a fog. The comforter swirled as I fell onto it. My head pounded, and my heart ached. I had nothing.

  The phone ringing exacerbated the pain.

  I reached out, searching for the receiver on the wicker nightstand. “Hello.”

  “Hi, are you all right?”

  “Philip!” I sat up in bed, propped the pillow behind me, and wiped my tears. He was safe. Relief at hearing his voice raced through my bones. I’d already lost one man dear to me. I might lose Philip to New York, but he was alive. Joy spurted from my heart in spite of the pain in it over my shop. “Uh, I’m having a bit of a problem at the shop, but I’m OK. How about you?”

  “I’m having a disaster.” He sounded disheartened.

  “I knew carting those duffle bags to a bank in New York would tempt a robber. When I didn’t hear from you, I was afraid you’d been mugged.”

  “Ohhh, the citizens of New York had nothing to do with it. I deplaned carrying the luggage. A cab picked me up right outside the main entrance to the airport and drove me straight home. I waltzed inside and unzipped the satchels in the living room. Guess what? They were stuffed with toilet paper. The cash is gone.” Horror filled Philip’s voice.

  “How can that be? No one except you, me, and Mr. Jacobsen knew you had it.”

  “I have no idea, but I will soon. I’m catching the first plane back to Merchantville. Then I’m coming to Triville to trace my steps and find the money.”

  “What will you tell your boss? Don’t you have to account for an investor’s funds, especially if they’re missing?”

  “Technically, yes, every penny, but I intend to locate the currency before George learns what happened.”

  I put my hands over my mouth. How long could Philip hide the facts? “That’s good, I suppose. Aren’t you taking a risk keeping the theft a secret?”

  “As of right now, as far as I know the bills disappeared thirty minutes ago. That’s when I first noticed I didn’t have them. Shoot, I could’ve misplaced them.”

  Was Philip with his one-track mind making sense, or was my head hurting so bad I couldn’t think straight?

  “If something goes wrong, and I can’t retrieve the money soon, I’ll report the theft, but I have to give myself a chance.” Philip’s voice broke up. “You will help me figure this out, won’t you? I need to know I can count on you.”

  Poor Philip. “Of course, I’ll do whatever I can. Triville has a police department with a chief and one other officer. Then there’s Thad.”

  “We may end up at the police station, but I hope not. I’d rather the town of Triville not discuss Mr. Jacobsen’s money over their morning coffee. If he thinks I’m irresponsible, he’ll yank his account.”

  Now, he convinced me. “You might find it quickly if you devise a good plan.”

  “So, what’s happening in the shop?”

  Tears sprang to my eyes, and
I sniffled. I explained about Ralph and how I’d told my customers not to come for their appointments.

  “That makes me furious, but affirms my suspicions. Something’s wrong with your products. When I return, we’ll take care of that too.”

  I blew my nose. “All right, Philip.”

  “Please don’t worry about the money or the shop. Do you need to use dye tomorrow?”

  I couldn’t help but cry. “I told you. I’m closing Eve’s Clips.”

  “No, you said you made cancellations. Sweetheart, don’t do that. I know how much that place means to you.”

  How could he possibly know? I’d never told him I lived for the shop now that Jordan was gone. Philip was so intelligent.

  “Are you all right?” The concern in his voice filtered through the phone.

  “I’m as good as can be expected.” I was numb, and didn’t know much of anything, including the answer to his question. I didn’t want to upset him though.

  “I wish I were there.”

  That’s what I’d been trying to tell him. “See. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. You’re not.”

  “I know. We have lots to discuss. I still want to hear about Jordan—”

  How could I tell him about Jordan? He’d never understand. He was speaking, but I hadn’t heard a word since he said Jordan’s name. “What, Philip? What were you saying?”

  “Sweetheart, I want to talk about us. I miss you very much, and I’ve only been gone twenty-four hours. We’ll see each other a lot. Trust me.”

  “I do trust you, Philip. I just don’t know how we can see each other with you in New York and me in Triville.”

  “The planes still fly between New York and Merchantville. That’s only an hour-and-a-half from Triville. It’ll work. You’ll see, but first I need to get Mr. Jacobsen’s money and solve your problem. Whew. I’m exhausted. A few hours of sleep might go a long way toward helping me think clearly. The last thing I want to do when I return is fall asleep while driving and wreck the car.”

  His shaky voice worried me. “Right. The car’s enough of a wreck as it is. Take a nap. When you get here, I’ll be around. I won’t be working.”

  “Don’t close the shop. Since you’ve already called some people, go ahead and put the sign out, but just for tomorrow.”

  Apparently he was so preoccupied with Mr. Jacobsen’s money he didn’t understand I’d already shut down the shop. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

  “Good night. I’m sending you a hug and kiss.”

  “You too, Philip.” I hung up and rolled over in bed. Philip and I were only two people. How could we solve all these problems?

  14

  Philip paced back and forth between the huge panoramic window and the mahogany coffee table in his New York penthouse. Outside the itinerate preachers, celebrities, successful businessmen, thieves, muggers, and murderers filled the streets, but he lost a million dollars in a tiny town in the North Carolina mountains. His nerves never had vibrated under his skin before, but they did now.

  He breezed past his business and economics books organized alphabetically by authors in the mahogany bookcase on his way to the kitchen. Priscilla, the maid, always left this place sparkling. His copper pans shone like new pennies above the island.

  He reached in the cabinet, all the glasses turned upside down and lined up taller to shorter. He filled one. Water squirted on the brown granite counter top. He’d stained Priscilla’s perfect kitchen. The water would evaporate. He no longer cared about a showcase condo or the events that required he have one. He had to leave and get back Mr. Jacobsen’s money, or his dream for Eve and him would fly away with a mountain breeze.

  If only she were here. He depended on her. Who would’ve thought someone from New York would require help navigating a town as small as Triville? In New York he needed to know the streets, but in Triville he had to understand the folks. Eve introduced him to the residents and more importantly, showed him how to interact with them. She understood those who lived in the community as well as the ways of mountaineers in general. He could depend on her to know what he’d overlooked that led to the theft.

  He missed the smell of her hair and the feel of her soft cheek. He couldn’t help but chuckle about the scale at Frank’s. He wandered into the bedroom, and the lemon oil Priscilla used wafted from the mahogany computer center.

  The sooner he solved this problem the sooner he could work things out with Eve. He pulled out his keyboard and clicked the keys to find the earliest flight. Finally, he booked one out of LaGuardia at six o’clock in the morning. He’d have to wake up at four, but he itched all over for wanting to return to Triville and find the money. He showered and fell into bed with the muscles in his legs twitching. Finally his eyelids grew heavy, his nerves settled, and he dozed off.

  He sat at a walnut desk and tapped his computer keys. The phone interrupted him.

  “Hi, can you meet me at Bob’s Diner?”

  “Sure, Eve. I’m on my way?”

  He locked the office, left, drove up the hill lined with green, leafy oak trees to the restaurant and sat at a booth. Eve came in, looking gorgeous in a black dress.

  Bonnie Sue sashayed over, popping her chewing gum. “What ya’ll gonna’ have?”

  The alarm sounded and Philip sat straight up. He placed his feet on the beige carpet and rubbed his head. Were there enough people in those mountains to warrant an office? Make More Money didn’t have a branch in Western North Carolina.

  Put on anything. Just get out of here and find that cash. He wouldn’t be working from any city if he didn’t. He grabbed a green shirt, tugged on a pair of khaki pants, and hurried out.

  Inside the elevator, he tapped his foot until finally it stopped. He charged across the marble floor in the lobby and raced outside. In seconds brakes squealed as a yellow taxi halted. The cabbie lifted his cap and scratched his head. “Hop in, buddy.”

  Philip scooted in the backseat.

  “Where to?” The driver spoke over his shoulder.

  “LaGuardia.”

  “I shoulda’ known, this time a morning.’ It’s a good hour to go, though. We shouldn’t have any traffic tie-ups.”

  “Great.” Philip rubbed his hands over his knees as if the action would relieve his anxiety. He hoped the cabbie was right.

  Within thirty minutes the driver exited onto the road leading to the terminal. Six guys picked up orange cones blocking one lane. Two empty dump trucks pulled away followed by two rollers and a paving machine. Philip’s heartbeat accelerated. Would he make his flight with the taxi creeping behind a construction crew?

  As if he read Philip’s mind, the driver said, “The flame’s out in the paver’s propane burner. Looks like those guys just finished. We’ll zip around the NYC Airporter buses, cars and other vehicles.” The driver motored past a truck and several vans and stopped at the entrance. “I brought you here at a good rate. Just add the surcharge.”

  “Here ya’ go. Keep the change.” Philip handed him extra, grabbed the duffle bags, and shut the cab door.

  If only he could breeze through security and check his carry-on. Inside a line of people waiting for plastic boxes moved like giant snails in sock feet. Philip’s hand shook for wanting to hurry as he snatched up a container and dropped in his loafers and keys. He shifted his weight back and forth to keep his nerves in tact while he watched the luggage bump in slow motion across the conveyor belt. He took a sigh of relief when he finally approached the end of the counter, but he stopped short and stared at his belongings before he snatched them. They lay piled on top of each other like the crisis in his life.

  He shoved on his shoes and sprinted down the concourse to find the aircraft already boarding. He claimed his spot next to a blue-haired lady who pulled a needle and thread through a square piece of cloth.

  “Hello.” Her voice dripped with sweetness.

  “Hi, ma’am.”

  Soon the jet taxied to the runway and took off, the trees turning to specs
below then disappearing as they flew into a blue sky. At last, Philip had the quiet time he needed to recall his steps after he received Mr. Jaccobsen’s money.

  He’d left Mr. Jacobsen’s porch and put the bags in the car.

  “I’m on my way to see my new grandbaby.”

  Philip’s mind flip-flopped from the million dollars. “How nice, ma’am.” He might as well try to make the lady comfortable. He pointed to her stitchery. “What are you sewing? My mother used to create those things.”

  Her thin lips stretched nearly across her face as she looked up. “It’s a cross-stitch picture for the baby’s room.” She held it up. “See. It’s a giraffe.”

  There. That should have put her at ease. He faced straight ahead, scooted as far over in his seat as he could, and started his recollection again.

  He and Eve left Mr. Jacobsen’s house. Then he put the bags in the trunk.

  The lady moved the image up higher and closer to his face.

  “Uh, yes ma’am, it’s very cute.”

  Where was he? Oh, right.

  He drove straight down the mountain to Eve’s house. He hadn’t even gotten out of the car to walk her to the door.

  “It’s a boy. They’re naming him Ronald, and will call him Ronnie. I thought about making the giraffe blue, but I didn’t want little Ronnie to grow up thinking giraffes were blue.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I think you made the right decision.” Please lady, stop talking so I can think. Philip put his head in his hands.

  “Oh, dear, are you all right? I’ll call the stewardess.”

  He raised his head quickly. “No thank you, I’m fine.”

  “You look a little pale. How about a soda?”

  “No ma’am, I don’t need the stewardess.” Philip gritted his teeth.

  “Ronnie’s older brother plays soccer, the goalie, I think. Did you ever play soccer?”

  Philip’s stomach knotted and hurt. “No, ma’am.”

  “I do worry about Junior. It’s a rough game, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t hear of too many young soccer players getting seriously hurt, but I don’t know much about the sport.”