“Cash.” She drew my name out.
“Suck it up, kid,” I said. Caleb laughed. Andy sighed.
Caleb took the clip out of the top and tossed it aside. He sprayed Andy’s hair and started combing back. I’d never watched him cut because I’d always been on the receiving end, but he held the shears weird. The free end swung back and forth with seeming abandon. It was unsettling. He took a lot off the top. Andy seemed delighted as each chunk dropped. He sprayed and cut and sprayed and cut forever. It finally started to take shape.
Andy flinched when he blow-dried, but rapidly realized the blow-dryer was not going to attack her. There was more cutting and then he stopped and handed her a mirror.
“I still need to finish and style, but tell me how you like the sides.”
Andy lifted the mirror and smiled. I took a photo. “It’s badass,” she said.
“Feel the back. Does it seem short enough?”
She ran her fingers through the back, traced up to her ears. “It’s totally short enough.”
“Good.” Caleb grinned at her and took the mirror. He got some hot lather and dabbed it along her neckline. He dragged the razor down her cheek, traced the edges of her ears. At her neckline, he loosened the smock and lightly tugged her T-shirt away from her neck. He smoothed the lather over her neck and drew a careful line with the razor.
“Are we done?” Andy asked.
“Almost.” Caleb wiped away the remaining lather and powdered everything he had just shaved. “Do you want me to style it?”
“Yeah, that would be dope.”
“Do you want to watch so you know how?” Caleb asked. He was apparently feeling generous. I’d never seen him offer to teach someone.
“Please.” Andy nodded emphatically.
Caleb spun her to face the mirror again. He sprayed her hair and towel dried it. He spritzed on a product and worked it through, then combed the hair back until it lay just right. When he blow-dried, he focused on a bit of volume in the front. He brushed and followed each stroke with the dryer. When the top was mostly dry, he set aside the dryer.
“Drying allows you to sculpt the shape you want and the heat locks it in.” He picked up a tub of paste. “This paste is matte, but you can get it with shine if you like that look. You don’t need much.” He showed Andy the amount of paste in his palm. “Work it through front to back, but make sure you follow through.” He finger combed the product in, smoothed the sides, pulled the front to attention, combed everything again. “Make sure you put a little product on the back and sides too. It’ll help it stay in place since yours is a little longer on the sides. Plus, it looks weird when the top has product, but it’s not anywhere else.” He worked the excess product off his palms and into her head. Andy leaned toward the mirror and turned her head back and forth. Caleb pulled away her smock and handed her a mirror.
“This is the best haircut ever. Like, ever. I checked.”
Caleb laughed. “Here, look at the back.” He spun her so her back was to the wall mirror.
Andy tilted her head so she could see the neckline. She ran her hand down the back and felt her bare neck. “This is awesome.” She gave the mirror back and stood.
I took a few final photos. Andy ran her fingers through her hair, directed the length to one side, shifted it back.
“Does it look like you were hoping?” Caleb asked.
“Yeah, exactly. Thank you. Seriously.”
“You’re welcome. Do you need hair product? Or do you already have some?”
Andy looked at me. “I don’t know.”
“I’ve got some she can play with,” I told Caleb. “When you figure out what kind of paste you like, we’ll get you some of your own. Sound good?” I asked Andy.
“Yeah, that would be cool.”
“Good idea.” Caleb shook Andy’s hand again, then mine. I handed him money for my haircut and severely over tipped him. Andy followed my lead with the cash Robin had given her.
I led the way out and back to my car. Andy studied herself in every reflective surface we passed.
“So you like barbershops.”
“I love barbershops. And Caleb is so cool. He did a really good cut, right?”
“Totally. It looks amazing.”
“Do you think I’ll be able to style it on my own?” Andy asked.
“Yeah, you will get the hang of it really fast. And I can help if you need it.”
“Thanks, Cash. For taking me and everything.”
“Anytime.” We got in the car. “You still cool if we go to the grocery store?”
“I guess.” She made it sound like she was doing me a huge favor.
*
We had worked through half the grocery list when I realized Andy was obsessively rubbing at her collar.
“Itchy?”
“It’s like torture.” She juggled the three bags of chips she was holding so she could scratch more vigorously.
“Stop that. It’s all the little pieces of hair stuck in your shirt collar. When you go short, it’s part of the bargain.”
“Well, make it stop.”
“We will be home in fifteen minutes. You can shower then.” I added buns to the produce and cheese in my basket.
Andy sighed. “What else do we need?”
“Ground turkey. And soda, if you want it.”
“Oh, can I get the good kind?”
“Sure thing. We’re basically celebrating your haircut.”
“I thought you decided to barbecue before you decided to take me to get my haircut,” she said.
“Yes, technically. But it really lends some legitimacy to the whole affair.” Kids didn’t understand anything.
“You’re so smart.”
“I know.” I tossed in a couple pounds of ground turkey. Andy led us to the cold drinks where I let her pick out three packs of Jones. I was way too indulgent.
“Hey, Cash?” Andy asked as we left the store.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome.” I resisted the urge to ruffle her hair. That wouldn’t go over well. “Besides, now I have someone to go to the barbershop with.”
“Selfish.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I was stretched on the couch. Nickels was curled up next to me. I had a book propped on my other side. It was too hot to go outside. It was too hot to have a cat sleeping on me, but Nickels wasn’t great at listening. My phone buzzed and I had no desire to look at it. Robin wouldn’t be home for a while. I didn’t need to start the charcoal for another hour. I just wanted to snuggle with my cat and read my book. But then I decided to be a big kid. So I looked at the phone. It was Laurel.
What u up to?
In response, I sent a photo of Nickels and my book.
Casual midday poetry read?
I smiled. That photo had been way more Instagram than I realized. It’s Audre Lorde. She’s best in the light of day.
What the hell does that mean?
I laughed, which Nickels did not appreciate. No fucking clue. Thought it sounded cool. What r u doing? Want to come over for a BBQ?
Yes.
That was it. Simple. I liked it.
Come over. I’m starting the grill in an hour. That was super casual. I was owning this dating thing.
Fifteen minutes later, I’d managed to disentangle myself from the cat. I debated putting a button up over the tank top I’d put on after my shower, but Laurel wasn’t the only one who could rock a tank. I finished styling my hair in record time. I was rinsing hair product off my hands when there was a knock at the front door followed by a knock at the back door. I wasn’t usually so popular. I answered the front door first because I figured it was Laurel. It was. I got a kiss and a six-pack with two limes tucked into it.
“So, hi.”
“Hey. Come in,” I said. The knocking at the back door picked up. “Sorry. That’s probably Andy.”
“Go ahead. I’ll put this in the fridge.”
“Perfect. Thanks.” I went
to the back door. It was Andy. Fresh from what had to be an hour-long shower and on the verge of tears.
“I don’t know how to blow-dry.”
“Whoa, it’s okay.” I squeezed her shoulder. “I have years of experience with blow-drying. Would you like to see my résumé?”
She nodded and took a deep breath, which seemed to calm her. “I won’t settle for less than ten years’ experience. My hair is the source of all my power.”
“All right, Samson. Let’s go.”
“Hey, Andy.” Laurel stepped out of the kitchen. “Whoa, killer haircut.”
“Thanks.” Andy grinned and pushed back her wet locks. “Cash took me to her barber.”
“It looks fantastic.”
“I feel like Romeo from that stupid version Cash likes, but I’m going to learn to style it.”
“Not if you insult Baz Luhrmann. His version of Romeo and Juliet is clearly the best,” I said. Andy rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Laurel. We have a hair styling session. Would you care to join us in the bathroom?”
“Not an odd request at all. I’d love to.”
We traipsed into my bathroom. Laurel sat on the edge of the tub. Andy stood in front of the mirror while I plugged in the blow-dryer. I leaned around Andy to get a brush and some product out of the medicine cabinet.
“First up is a sea salt spray. It adds texture without adding weight. Then we do a heat protectant because you’ll be blow-drying a lot.” I gave her both bottles. “Just a little of each.”
“Okay.” Andy sprayed both products lightly. I nodded and she ran her hands through her hair to distribute the product.
“Good. Now, remember how Caleb brushed while he blow-dried? You need to keep the blow-dryer right next to the brush. Pay attention to how I add volume to the front.” I repeated the process Caleb had shown her. In between strokes, I glanced over at Laurel. She was grinning at us, seemingly enchanted at the sight of me helping my little baby dyke neighbor style her hair. But there was something more. As if she thought the whole thing was hilarious. It was that snark coming through. Laurel realized I was watching her and she narrowed her eyes. It was both an invitation and a warning. I really wanted to give in to the invitation. And I didn’t care about the warning.
When Andy’s hair was mostly dry, I turned off the dryer and set it aside.
“More product now?” Andy asked.
“Yeah, this is similar to the paste Caleb used. Do you want to put it in?”
“Sure.” She unscrewed the top and scooped out a glob of paste. “This much?”
“That’s good. Rub it in your palms, then spread up to your fingertips a little at a time.”
Andy spent more time than necessary carefully rubbing the product into her hands. She started with a little paste in the front and finger combed it back. When she ran out of product, she gathered more from her palms. There was a cowlick on the back of her head, but she quickly figured out which way it was pushing her hair and went with the flow.
“You’ve really got the hang of that,” Laurel said.
“I think I do.” Andy sounded excited. “What do you think? Am I done?”
Laurel and I nodded. “Totally. Do you want hairspray?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Do I?”
“Your call. I don’t like it because it makes my hair feel too stiff,” I said.
“Okay. I’ll skip it.” Andy washed her hands.
I packed away the dryer and pulled out more hair product. “Try these.” I handed her three tubs and one tube, plus the two sprays she had already used. “Let me know what you like and what you don’t like.”
“Thanks.” Andy cupped the products in her shirt and led the way out of the bathroom. “Can I break into that soda now?”
“Fine with me.”
“Dope.” Andy left through the back door. She even remembered to close it.
“Thanks for being so patient,” I said to Laurel.
“No problem. I like watching you with her. It’s cute.”
“Super. I totally want you to think I’m cute.”
“Oh, sorry. I meant sweet.”
“Awesome.”
“Tender? Delightful?”
“So you want a beer?” I asked.
“Nice sidestep. Yes, please.”
I sliced up the lime and grabbed two beers. “Porch?”
“Sure.”
Outside, I opened the bottles with the opener mounted on the railing. Laurel took her bottle and sat in one of the big chairs. Half a second later, Andy joined us with her fancy ass soda and sat in the chair next to Laurel. I leaned against the railing.
“When are we starting up the grill?” Andy asked.
“When your mom gets home,” I said.
“But we could start it earlier if we wanted.”
“We could.”
“So when are we starting up the grill?”
“When your mom gets home.”
Andy rolled her eyes. “Cash.”
“Anderson.”
“Oh, an impasse. What will happen now?” Laurel said.
Andy laughed. “Cash will win.”
“Damn right. Now, go put on some music.”
“Fine.” Andy pushed herself up and went into my side of the house.
Immediately, I took the chair she had vacated.
“Smooth,” Laurel said.
“I’ve got to make sure she knows who is in charge.”
“Yeah, you really put that foot down.”
“Thanks, I know.”
Music streamed from the speakers, but it was too low to hear. I pointed up so Andy could see me through the window. The volume went way too high. I pointed down. It equalized and I gave her a thumbs-up.
“Blondie?” Laurel asked. “She doesn’t know The Cranberries, but she knows Blondie?”
“I’m teaching chronologically. We haven’t reached the nineties yet.”
Andy opened the door. “Hey, you took my seat.”
“Sucker.”
“Jerkwad.” Andy flopped into one of her mom’s Adirondacks, which was great because they were angled so she could check herself out in the window.
Laurel and I watched her play with her hair and tried not to laugh. She threw bottle caps at us. By the time Robin got home, we had worn ourselves out from laughing and a brief, impromptu game of tag.
“I leave for a few hours and the place goes to hell.” Robin closed the door behind her.
“It was Cash’s fault,” Andy said. “She stole my chair.”
“Anderson.” Robin saw Andy’s hair and started smiling. Maybe tearing up a little. “You look so good. Spin around, let me see.” Andy spun slowly. Robin ran her hand over the back. “I love it. It’s perfect on you.”
“You think so?” Andy asked.
“Definitely. Did you like the barbershop?”
“Yeah, it was so cool. Caleb—he’s our barber—showed me how to style it and he asked all these questions and it was totally dope.” Andy ran her hands through her hair, pushed it to the right, then back to the left. She was already mastering the casual hair tousle. “And he used a straight razor.”
“No way.” Robin rubbed the soft, freshly shaved skin on the back of Andy’s neck. “I’m so glad you had a good time. I’m also glad you like the cut. It really suits you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Andy ducked her head.
“And you must be Laurel.” Robin reached over me to shake Laurel’s hand. “I’m Robin Ward. My boys speak very highly of you.”
Laurel laughed when Robin said boys. “It’s great to meet you as well.”
“Are we starting up that grill?” Robin asked me.
“We can do that,” I said.
“Good. You and Andy need a distraction so I can talk to Laurel.”
Andy and I did a mutual eye roll. I took the cover off the grill and started assembling supplies.
“Hey, Mom, Cash let me get Jones. You want one?” Andy asked.
“I think I’ll probably do a beer, but t
hanks.”
“There’s more in my fridge, Andy. You want to grab one for your mom?” I asked.
“Okay.”
“Make that two.” Laurel held up her empty bottle.
“Good call. Three, please.”
“Demanding.” Andy took our empties and disappeared into the house.
“So how did she do at the appointment?” Robin asked.
“She did great. Asked good questions, listened to what he was telling her.” I pulled up the photos on my phone and handed it to Robin. She made an excited noise.
Andy returned and handed out beer. Robin barely looked up. She was engrossed. “Oh, he’s cutting so much…What a funny way to hold scissors…Andy looks so calm…Look at how much he’s paying attention to detail.”
We ignored her.
I motioned Andy over so she could start the chimney. She expertly filled the base with newspaper and scooped charcoal out of the tub until the top was rounded. I gave her the barbecue lighter and watched as she lit strategic points of the paper.
“Nicely done.”
“Thanks.”
We tucked away the flammable supplies and backed away from the smoke.
“Should we prep the burgers?” Andy asked.
“Sure.” I glanced at Robin and Laurel. “You guys mind if we go prep the food?”
They waved us away. I grabbed my beer and Andy followed me into the kitchen. She pulled out a large bowl and dumped the turkey meat into it. I assembled spices on the counter next to her. She washed her hands.
“Basil, garlic, oregano, pepper, salt, what else you want?” I asked.
“What did we do last time? It was kind of brown and orangey.”
“Cumin?”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
“Anything else?”
Andy looked at the spices and thought hard. “Truffle oil.”
“Kid, you’re a genius.” I grabbed the bottle.
“I know.” Andy started dumping spices into the meat. She managed to not go overboard, which was good. We’d been working on that.
I started slicing veggies and dumping them in a bowl.
“Hey, do you mind grabbing a tray for me? I forgot.” Andy was holding a half-formed burger and had no place to set it.
“Sure.” I rinsed my hands. She waited while I pulled out a tray and lined it.
Cash Braddock Page 9
