by Julia Wolf
And then, a few minutes later, he sent me a picture of himself in his classroom, wearing the sexiest pair of glasses I had ever seen.
This guy killed me. He seemed to be as sweet as I remembered and without meaning to, I’d let myself start falling. But every time I started to daydream about the what-ifs, I’d remember the email and the stone house and all my stupid, tangled up feelings, and I’d slam right back to the real world.
Six
I was busier than ever at the salon. Every day, my schedule was fully booked, and I had to tell our receptionist to stop trying to squeeze in appointments because I hated feeling rushed with my clients. At the beginning of my career, I would juggle several clients at a time, but I’d worked my ass off to become successful enough that I didn’t have to do that anymore.
I also taught at least one class a week to other hairstylists, so sometimes it felt like every spare moment I had was filled. I made a more than decent living though, and I still had a good chunk of money in savings, even after I invested in the salon, and that filled me to the top with pride.
David had never believed being a hairstylist made a legitimate career, so even though I had always loved it, I hadn’t fully put my heart and soul into making myself a success until my marriage began to crumble.
“Girl, Mrs. Hanson was on fire today,” Frannie said as she straightened up her station at the end of the day.
I flopped back in my chair and blew out a big puff of air.
“Two hours I gave that woman. I ran so behind because of her. She literally asked me for a ruler so she could measure her hair! She was positive it was uneven.” Mrs. Hanson was in her seventies, with a straight white bob. She had been my client since beauty school. Mrs. Hanson called me “dear,” baked me cookies for my birthday, and had hugged me when I told her about the divorce. But she held the honor of being my hardest to please client by far.
A bob seemed like an easy haircut, but if you wanted to be precise, and I did, it took skill and a steady hand. When I first started cutting Mrs. Hanson’s hair, the ruler would have come in handy, especially in beauty school. She had left my chair with lopsided hair more times than I cared to admit. But once I had more experience and learned the correct way to hold my fingers, I cut a pretty perfect bob. Maybe Mrs. Hanson’s distrust came from all of the uneven haircuts I’d given her when I was twenty, or maybe she just wanted to spend more time in the salon. Whatever the reason, the result was the same each time: I wound up exhausted and she left with a spring in her step.
“She’s just lonely and trying to prolong her appointments,” Eliza said as she mopped the floor. We were closed for the evening, the three of us the last ones in the salon.
“I know, and I feel for her. But today was exceptionally bad,” I said. “Ah well, tomorrow is another day.” I stared up at the ceiling, going over in my mind all the clients I had booked for the next day.
“I got a call from Anthony earlier,” Eliza said suddenly.
I raised my eyebrows. “You did?”
“You know I did. He said you told him to call me.”
“What did he want?” Frannie asked.
“He wants me to do a platform demo at the hair show in New York in a couple weeks. I told him I’d have to think about it,” Eliza said.
I gasped. “What? Why didn’t you say yes?” I asked incredulously.
Anthony was like the uncle I had always wished for as a kid. I met him early in my career when he taught a class at the salon I was working at, and he became something of a mentor to me and a dear friend. He booked all my teaching gigs and demonstrations at hair shows. When I had started to prepare to leave David, Anthony got me as many teaching jobs as he could so I could start squirreling away as much money as possible. At first, I had started teaching out of necessity, but I’d found I actually liked it. Now, though, I was starting to burn out from the hectic pace.
Eliza continued mopping. “I’m not sure I can stand up there in front of all those people. That’s more your and Frannie’s thing.”
“But, E, think about the exposure for the salon. Not to mention the money, which isn’t bad at all.”
She nodded. “I know, and that’s why I didn’t turn him down flat. I’ll think about it.”
I didn’t tell her I sent Anthony to her so she could make a little extra money in hopes it would be enough to push her to leave Edward. I wasn’t exactly sure what kept her in her toxic relationship, but if money was the issue, I wanted to help her remove that obstacle.
“If I get a vote, I think you should do it, E!” Frannie said.
I laughed. “See, majority rules. It’s two against one.”
She held the mop in front of her as a shield and giggled. “Okay, okay, I said I’m thinking about it!”
Frannie left before us since she had a commute back to her place in Baltimore, but I stayed behind to work on a supply order while Eliza cleaned.
When she’d put away her cleaning supplies, she sat next to me at the desk. My phone vibrated with a text. From Joe.
Hey, let me know when you’re free. I want to ask you something.
“Email Joe, huh?” Eliza looked over my shoulder at my phone, smirking. The picture Joe had sent me from his classroom popped up whenever he texted. His blue eyes looking back at me with every little text turned my insides to mush.
He and I had texted back and forth a lot over the last week, mostly jokes and memes, a little bit here and there about our lives. I wanted to keep everything light because I wasn’t sure how I felt about him yet. He didn’t try to push, which made it easier.
“I think we can probably drop the nickname now, since he’s back in my life.”
“Oh, now he’s back in your life, huh?”
“Shush, you.” I peeked at his picture one more time. “Hey, E, I know the idea of doing the demo makes you nervous, but you’re an amazing stylist with a lot you can teach other stylists. You’ve taught me obscene amounts since I’ve known you.”
She smiled. “That’s really sweet, Rach. I could say the same about you.”
Eliza and I said goodnight, and then I walked as quickly as humanly possible down the hill to my place.
Me: I’m home from work. I can talk. What’s up?
My phone rang right away, which startled me into dropping it on my big toe. I had to get some better reflexes or I would need a new phone.
“Hey,” I answered as I hopped around, holding my poor foot.
“Why does it sound like you’re doing jumping jacks?” Joe asked through laughter.
“Because I’m super cool and dropped my phone on my toe. How was your week?”
“Busy,” he said. “We’re getting ready for spring band concerts, so I’m having extra rehearsals. The kids sound really good! Sometimes it’s a clash of sounds, but this year my students are actually practicing at home. I can’t wait for their parents to hear them.”
I could picture him pacing around his apartment, pulling at his hair. I smiled at his enthusiasm.
“Can we video chat?” he asked. “I want to see you. I’m going to hang up and call you back.”
I said okay without thinking, then immediately panicked. I had just finished a long day at work and had no idea what I looked like. I quickly threw my hair in a bun and went out to my balcony where I would be in a bit of a shadow, hopefully hiding anything I didn’t want him to see.
I answered his video call, feeling shy. He lounged on a gray couch, wearing a dark T-shirt and his glasses.
“Hi again,” I said quietly, feeling my cheeks burn.
“Ah, there you are. I missed your pretty face. I’ve looked at the picture you sent me more times than I should admit.” Joe smiled the goofiest, widest grin back at me. I laughed and looked away from the phone so he wouldn’t see that I was blushing even deeper.
“So, I’m coming down to Baltimore tomorrow.”
“What? You are? Are you coming to see your parents?” I asked.
“I’ll stop in and see them, but a friend of mine a
sked me to fill in for the guitarist in her band. They have a show tomorrow night at Lucky.”
I couldn’t tell if he was just making conversation or if he wanted me to come, so I said, “Awesome. I’m sure your parents will be happy to see you and Lucky is a great venue. That sounds fun!”
“Um, so are you busy tomorrow night? I know it’s last minute and I’m sure you have plans…” Joe looked almost nervous.
“I do have plans,” I said.
“Oh, yeah, I thought so. That’s cool.” He sighed and raked his hands through his hair.
“Hey, Joe? My plans are to go hang out with my girl Frannie. But guess where she lives?” Without taking a breath, I answered my own question. “In Baltimore! I’m sure she’d love to come to your show.” I grinned as he threw his head back and exhaled.
“You don’t know how happy that makes me. I get to spend time with the elusive Rachel Sachs twice in a month. Who knew this was possible?”
I hadn’t thought it was possible I’d be seeing Joe Silver again so soon. Still completely unsure how to feel about him, I’d told myself I had until June, when we were officially neighbors, to work it out in my brain. But here he was, changing my plans yet again.
“You’re a funny guy. So, what kind of music will I be listening to tomorrow night?”
“I guess I would call it folk rock. Their band has a pretty good local following. Have you heard of The Two Jars?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen them play.” I heard a door open in Joe’s apartment, and he looked over his shoulder.
“Cool, well I’ll text you the info and put you on the list. Bye,” he said abruptly.
Before he ended the chat, I thought I saw a woman walk into the room.
I didn’t know what to think about that, so I decided to do what I did many times in my marriage: not think about it at all.
Seven
Frannie lived with a roommate in a small two-bedroom apartment in Fell’s Point, an area of Baltimore packed with hipster bars and restaurants. I liked to drive the twenty minutes to the city when we were having a night out because we could walk from her place to that night’s destination, and then I could crash with her later.
A mixture of nerves and excitement coursed through me when I arrived at her place. Frannie kissed my cheeks, then looked me up and down.
“You aren’t wearing that. I need you to be sexy tonight, none of this hippie business.” Frannie eyed my perfectly respectable maxi dress with disdain.
“I thought I’m your little ginger hippie!” I pretended to pout. Really, though, Frannie had the best wardrobe. If she wanted to dress me, I wasn’t going to object.
“I normally adore your flowers and patchwork and flip flops, but it’s time to get serious. This is the Email Joe we’re talking about.” Frannie laid out a few outfits, each skimpier and sexier than the next.
“I’m game. I don’t know if anything is going to happen with Joe. He might have a girlfriend for all I know.” Frannie rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything, I added, “And yes, I liked him as a teenager and we had a nice time when we saw each other, but that does not mean I’ll feel the same way about him as an adult.” I paused, looking over the options Frannie had strewn across her bed. “But I’m not opposed to looking sexier.”
Frannie was quite a bit taller than me, but by some fashion voodoo, a lot of her clothes fit me, though pants were tricky. The first outfit she threw at me was a sequined romper.
“Um, Frananas, we’re not going to a disco.” I threw it back to her.
“You know I love when you call me that. And sequins work for every occasion!”
I laughed at her protest. On Frannie, sequins probably did work for every occasion.
I tried on a short jean skirt with a peasant top, but Frannie vetoed it.
“You look adorable, but it’s still not quite right,” she said. “Too girl next door.”
We finally settled on high-waisted shorts and a striped crop top. Just a hint of skin peeked out between the waist of the shorts and the bottom of the top. I convinced Frannie to let me wear my own red wedges.
She wore the tiniest of shorts with a tattered Nirvana concert T-shirt on top, and black-and-white Mary Jane high heels.
We took the requisite selfies together for Instagram, making silly duck lips before heading out the door. I texted one to Joe with the caption: “Hotties on the way to see you soon!”
Lucky was a newer music venue in the city. A large bar took up one side, with a few tables toward the back, but standing room only in front of the stage. The club was packed, but our names were on the list (I’d always wanted to be on a list!), so we were able to go right in and grab a drink.
“Too bad E couldn’t come. I know she was dying to see Joe on stage.” Frannie took a long swig of her beer.
“She wanted to. But Edward insisted they needed ‘couple time’ tonight.” My hands tightened around my cocktail. The way Edward controlled Eliza was far too familiar.
Frannie scrunched her nose at Edward’s name, something she always did—probably another reason we rarely saw him.
“Oh! I think the band is about to start.” Frannie turned me toward the stage where the musicians were taking their places. We moved closer, but neither of us wanted to be right up front. Even though Joe had asked me to come, I still felt shy about seeing him.
Joe stood under a spotlight on the left side of the stage. He didn’t have his glasses on, but he looked so damn hot in a tight gray T-shirt, fitted jeans, and his guitar strapped to his chest, I knew my underwear would be wet by the end of the night. There was nothing sexier than a beautiful man making music.
The lead singer was a gorgeous, curvy woman with chocolate brown skin and the most amazing corkscrew curls I’d ever seen. I couldn’t help thinking I’d love to get my hands on her hair and throw in a few caramel highlights. One of the primary hazards of being a hairstylist was that part of my brain never turned off.
“Hey, everyone! I’m Maya Patel, and we’re The Two Jars! Tonight, we have a special treat: Joe Silver is helping us out on guitar,” she yelled into the microphone. Frannie and I cheered and whistled, loud enough for Joe to look in our direction. When he saw me clapping for him, he grabbed his chest and grinned. I looked down at my feet to make sure I wasn’t melting into a puddle of Rachel. His smile was dangerous.
The band played a lot of covers of popular songs, transforming pop music into folksy rock. Frannie and I danced our socks off, holding hands and jumping around.
Toward the end of the show, Maya said, “It’s not every day we have Joe Silver here. I asked him to grace us by singing a song, and lucky us, he said he would!” Joe moved to the center of the stage and pulled up a stool.
I froze. My eyes pinpointed on him, everything else faded away.
He looked out into the audience, his eyes grazing mine, raised the microphone to his lips, and said, “‘Nothing Compares 2 U.’”
Joe closed his eyes and strummed his guitar, playing a slow and sexy version of the iconic song. He sang softly about love, loss and longing. I closed my eyes too and let his smooth voice wash over me. I felt Frannie’s arm around my shoulder, so I wrapped my arm around her waist, and the two of us swayed together, singing along under our breath.
“It feels like he’s singing to you, girl,” she whispered in my ear. As romantic as that sounded, the realist in me knew Joe was a seasoned performer and all the other women in the club were feeling as swoony as me.
“Oh, I think that’s the point. We all feel that way, right? Luckily, I’m thirty-one, not sixteen, so I’ve figured out that just because I’m feeling something doesn’t mean he’s feeling it too.” Frannie looked like she was going to object, but dropped it when I shook my head.
When the set ended, we went back to the bar for more liquid nourishment. Joe and I hadn’t made plans to meet after the show, so I was nervous I wouldn’t see him again. We stood near the bar for a while, but I started getting antsy.
“I think we should just go. He probably just invited me because he wanted more bodies at the show.” My insecurity about Joe reared its ugly head. When we hung out at my place, I’d been on my home turf, so I’d felt in control of the situation. Tonight was a completely different story.
“Honey, please. Let’s just wait a few more minutes. I’m sure he’ll find us. And if not, we’ll head to Bar Royal, do some shots, and dance. Deal?”
I nodded absently and looked around the crowded club. But when I turned back to Frannie, I saw her eyes go wide, and then warm hands touched the exposed skin on my sides.
“You came,” Joe said into my hair. I turned around and smiled at him, his fingertips slipping away from my body.
“What a great show, Joe,” I said. “The band is lucky they had you tonight.”
Frannie suddenly inserted herself between us.
“Hello there! I’m Frannie Rivera. And you must be Joe Silver. Excellent show tonight.” She seemed to surprise him when she kissed both his cheeks.
“Frannie and I work together. She makes me laugh on an hourly basis,” I said.
Joe smiled warmly. “Lovely to meet you, Frannie. So, what were you two going to do after this?”
Frannie spoke up before I could say anything. “Bar Royal. It’s just down the street. You in?”
“Absolutely. Lead the way!” Joe said. I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that he wanted to spend more time with me. He rested his hand on my lower back and walked with us through the throngs of people and out into the late spring night.
Just the warmth of his hand on my back turned me on—although, truthfully, my switch had been flipped the second he’d walked on stage. If he really touched me, skin to skin, my insides would probably ignite and I’d burn this whole block down.
Frannie stayed a little ahead of us while we walked down the sidewalk, giving us a moment of privacy.
“I’m sorry it took so long to find you guys. I had to pack up my guitar and help the band get some of their stuff loaded up. I would have texted, but if you can believe it, I left my phone in New York,” Joe told me as we walked side by side.
