Cut Short

by Julia Wolf

  “That’s too bad about your phone. Frannie and I sent you some selfies.” I made duck lips at him.

  He smiled. “Now I have something to look forward to when I go back.”

  “That was some song you sang at the end.” I looked up at the side of his handsome face.

  “Liked it, did ya?” he asked, turning to stare down at me. His blue eyes and velvet voice were making me feel things I’d sworn I wouldn’t let myself feel so easily this time.

  “I think every woman in the club liked it, Joe.” I looked straight ahead, avoiding his intense gaze.

  “Maybe. That wasn’t really my goal.” Joe grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

  “I know,” I said. “I remember when I first saw you perform fifteen years ago. The audience ate out of the palm of your hand. You made us all fall for you.”

  And here I was, all these years later, a lot older, hopefully a little wiser, but falling just the same.

  Eight

  “Here we are, Bar Royal!” Frannie said, standing under the entrance to her favorite bar. “My roommate, Laurel, texted saying she’s already here.”

  I walked ahead of Joe through the door and he put that damn hand on my back again.

  We found Laurel sitting at a high-top table, drink in hand.

  “Hey, guys! I totally did not wait for you, so you’re going to have to catch me if you can,” Laurel said loudly, holding up her glass of whiskey. She stood up, looking a bit wobbly already, flinging herself at Frannie and me.

  Whenever I came to see Frannie in Baltimore, I usually hung out with Laurel too. She was fun and bubbly, but put a few drinks in her, she quickly became a hot mess. But we loved her anyway.

  “Hi, sweetie. Laurel, this is my old friend Joe. Joe, this crazy girl is my friend Laurel,” I waved my hand back and forth between the two of them.

  Laurel gasped and put her hands over her mouth.

  “Noooooooooo. Email Joe? Are you kidding me? I never thought I would have the honor of meeting you!” she exclaimed.

  Laurel was a tiny woman with a huge mouth, which I promptly covered with my hand.

  Joe laughed and looked at me questioningly. I shrugged like I had no idea what she was talking about. I really didn’t want him to know I had talked about him with my friends so much he had an official nickname.

  “I’m just Joe, I think. I’m a bit confused, but it’s nice to meet you, Laurel,” Joe said.

  “I think we need drinks! Well, not Laurel, she doesn’t need any more drinks.” Frannie caught my eye.

  “If you ladies tell me what you want, I’ll get it,” Joe offered. He took our orders, then headed to the bar.

  “Oh my god, Laurel! No Email Joe! Just Joe! Oh, I’m going to die.” I sank down in my chair.

  “I can’t believe I said that! I was just so shocked, it popped out. You guys didn’t warn me,” Laurel defended herself. We all looked at Joe’s broad back as he leaned on the crowded bar. The man gave good back.

  “I think I might have a crush on Email Joe too!” Laurel said, then covered her own mouth. I groaned, but couldn’t help laughing.

  “I’m going to chain you in your room!” Frannie said in mock seriousness. We all giggled, because it had been long suspected Frannie really did have the equipment to chain someone up. She could be a little bit of a freak.

  “I promise I’ll be good! Don’t punish me, Mistress Francisca.” Laurel used Frannie’s full name, which she hated.

  “You better. Changing the subject now! You missed an awesome show. Joe serenaded Rachel.”

  “Oh come on,” I protested. “If he serenaded me, he serenaded you and every other person in that club. His voice is just…” I trailed off and made a gurgling noise. There were truly no words to describe Joe’s singing, only prehistoric sounds.

  “You are a goner, girl!” Laurel pointed at me and laughed.

  “I am not! I won’t allow myself to crush. He was always so sweet to me, complimenting me, paying extra attention to me, and making me feel special. And that last summer...we really bonded. Then he rejected me soundly. This time, I’m not going to mistake his kindness and affection for anything other than friendship.”

  As much as I wanted what I said to be true, it was too late. The crush had started the second he wrapped his arms around me and hearing him sing tonight only made it worse. It wasn’t Joe’s fault. It wasn’t like he led me on. But my heart didn’t know how to protect itself when it came to him.

  Joe walked up with our drinks in his wide, tan hands.

  “Did you happen to see a bartender with the most impressive red beard you can imagine?” Frannie asked him.

  He set the drinks on the table and shook his head. “Red beards are not usually part of my imaginings, but I didn’t see any bearded bartenders. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

  “Oh no, it’s good news,” I told Joe. “Frannie discovered she is not compatible with one of the bartenders here and running into him would probably be awkward.” He looked at Frannie to see if she would offer more details.

  “I never feel awkward, you know this. I was just curious.” She glanced at the bar.

  “Well, it would be awkward for me, knowing what I know about him now.” I laughed.

  Joe looked confused.

  “I see that look in your eye, Joe,” Frannie said. “If you must know the sad tale, after months of burning sexual tension between my local bartender and me, we finally got it on. And, Joe, despite his beautiful beard, gorgeous burly body, and big dick, he was a terrible, no good, very bad lay.” Joe looked from her, to me, to the bar, and then back to her, eyes comically wide.

  “Frananas, you’re going to scare Joe away!” Laurel laughed.

  “He wanted to know!” Frannie defended.

  Joe looked at me again, and then we both burst into shoulder-shaking, belly-clenching laughter. I leaned forward, holding my stomach.

  When we got control of ourselves, I sat back in my seat, and Joe draped his arm over the back. He rubbed his thumb back and forth on my shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along the path.

  “You up for a game of foosball, Rachel?”

  At the back of the bar were four foosball tables, a pinball machine, and some darts. I never turned down a game of foosball, so we left my friends and headed to a free table.

  We were both quiet at first, concentrating on beating one another. I laughed maniacally as I scored my second goal.

  “I rule, you drool!” I pumped my arms in the air and danced around in a circle.

  “I’ve been taking it easy on you. The gloves are coming off now,” he said with a much too serious look on his face.

  I shot him my most intimidating frown. “Challenge accepted, buster!”

  We were both concentrating on moving our players around, spinning the bars, and kicking the ball down toward the other’s goal when Joe asked the dreaded question.

  “Email Joe, huh? What exactly does that mean?” By his genuinely curious tone, he seemed to really have no idea.

  “Um, so my friends kind of know about the small crush I had on you when I was a teenager. And I may have told them about the little email reply you sent. So, for shorthand, we adopted the name Email Joe.”

  Joe frowned, the lines between his eyebrows etched deeply.

  “It’s not like I talk about you all the time. But girlfriends share stuff like this…” He looked down at the table studiously.

  “I was really stupid back then. You know that, right? My shitty email had everything to do with my stupidity and how messed up I was. I hate to think I caused you any sadness.” Joe looked up at me, his eyes searching mine.

  He really had no idea how his email and rejection changed my life, and I wasn’t ready to get into it over a game of foosball. So even though I didn’t quite feel it, I said, “I know, Joe. You’re forgiven, promise.”

  We smiled at each other from across the table.

  We played our hearts out at that table, beads of sweat on both of our foreheads by t
he end of the game. And even though I beat him by a landslide, he still gave me a high five.

  Nine

  Sundays weren’t normally busy at Salon 410, so only two of us were working. Eliza and Frannie had wisely taken the day off. I had to pry myself off Frannie’s couch that morning to drive back to Tiber City in time for my first appointment. Fortunately, I only had two clients booked, so my work day ended at noon.

  I was standing behind the reception desk checking over my schedule for the coming week when the door of the salon opened.

  “I’m sorry, we don’t have any appointments left today—” I started, then looked up and saw Joe standing just inside the door, smiling at me.

  It had only been twelve hours since I left him the previous night, but the sight of his tall frame in my salon sent a flock of butterflies swarming in my tummy.

  “Hi,” I managed to blurt out.

  “Hi.” His smile grew, and my nerves grew right along with it.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you would be on your way back home.”

  “I had time, so I decided to stay another day. I like your little apron thing.” He pointed to the rainbow apron I wore over my clothes.

  Flustered, I reached behind me to untie the strings. “Thanks! I’m actually done for the day, so I’ll just take this off.”

  After I tucked my apron away in a drawer at my station, I looked in the mirror and saw my cheeks were pink. Get control of yourself! I took my hair down from its messy bun, then turned my head over to fluff it up.

  When I walked back to the front, Joe stared at me with his mouth slightly agape.

  “Uh, I like your hair like that,” he mumbled. Then he reached out and ran a piece between his fingers.

  “This is the result of oversleeping and rushing this morning. I wouldn’t say this is my best look ever, but thanks, you’re too nice.”

  My red hair was the one feature I’d always been confident about. Most days it behaved itself, and the bright color fit me. I had to be one of the few stylists who had never colored their hair, although I did a lot of experimenting with different styles and cuts over the years.

  “Do you want to go for a walk or get lunch with me? I’m free until this evening, and hoped you might be willing to grace me with your presence again,” he asked.

  “I’m starving! My plan was to be a hermit for the rest of the day, but hanging out with you sounds better.”

  We walked together to the Tiber City Brewery. It was a warm spring day, so we decided to sit outside on the deck. Since the day was so lovely, the restaurant was fairly busy, but we still managed to snag a small table in a quiet corner.

  “I walked around for a while before I came to see you,” Joe said after we placed our order. “I really think I’m going to love living in this town.”

  “How did you find the stone house if you haven’t spent much time in Tiber City?” I asked.

  “I found it online when I got the job. I came to visit once, and that settled it. I knew I had to have it.” He cocked his head. “So, my house is called ‘the stone house’?”

  My cheeks flushed, and I fiddled with the salt shaker. “That’s what I call it.”

  He chuckled. “Do you have a nickname for all the houses in Tiber City?”

  I shook my head. “No, just that one.”

  He leaned forward. “Why that one, Rachel?”

  I took a deep breath and looked up. “I’ve loved that house since I was a little girl. It sounds silly, but when my mom and I were moving from apartment to apartment, I always told myself someday I’d live in that stone house and I would live there forever. My mom is awesome in so many ways and I love her, but my childhood was not the most stable. I guess the house represented the stability and permanence I needed but didn’t have.”

  Joe leaned back in his chair and exhaled. “Wow, I had no idea. It was just you and your mom, right?”

  “Yep, just the two of us. She had me on her own on purpose. Which is fine, my mom is loving enough for two or three people. I never lacked in that department. But she was also fanciful and when I was little we moved every year or two when she would decide we just had to move. Luckily, we settled in and stayed put for a while by the time I was a teenager.”

  “You must have been pissed at me when you found out I was the jackass who bought your dream house.”

  I held my thumb and index finger an inch apart. “Only a little. I’m mostly happy for you, Joe. It’s an awesome house. Just don’t paint the wood trim and we can still be friends.”

  He held his hand up in a pledge. “I would never.”

  “Good. Now tell me about the inside. I’ve only seen the pictures on the real estate listing.”

  Joe leaned forward again and gazed at me steadily. “Exposed beams, original hardwood floors, huge windows, fireplace in the master bedroom. It needs work, but the bones are there.”

  “Stop! I know I asked for this, but it’s torture!” I covered my ears so I didn’t have to hear any more. His description of the house felt almost erotic. My mind focused on hard, wood, exposed, huge. He had no idea he was talking dirty to me.

  “Why didn’t you buy it, Rachel?”

  “Not in the cards. I put most of the nest egg I built after the divorce into the salon. I never imagined the house would go on the market so soon after I became a partner in the business. I might have made a different choice with my money had I known. But realistically, I don’t think I could have taken care of the house on my own. It was just a dream.”

  “Nothing wrong with having dreams,” Joe said softly. His eyes held mine, and I had a feeling of falling in the pit of my stomach. Then he smiled, and I was steady again. “I hope you’ll help me decorate. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve lived in apartments my entire adult life, so I’ve never had a chance to put my mark on a place. I don’t even know what my mark is, to be honest.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Oh, didn’t you know? I have to preapprove any changes you make to the house.”

  Joe nodded solemnly. “Of course, how silly of me to forget.”

  We both burst out laughing, the air of seriousness thankfully dissipating after that.

  Our waitress brought our order and we were both quiet for a few minutes as we dug in.

  “I didn’t ask last night, but how do you know Maya and the rest of the band? You said they’re friends of yours,” I asked.

  Joe held up a finger as he finished chewing a big bite.

  “Yeah, I’ve known Maya forever. She’s married to the drummer, Lee. We usually hang out and play music when I’m in town visiting my parents.”

  I sighed inwardly when he told me Maya was married. She was so beautiful and such a talented musician that, if I was honest with myself, I had been feeling a little jealous since I saw Joe share the stage with her last night.

  “She’s got such a powerful voice. I always love a female singer with a rasp. And she’s so stunning. You must have had a crush on her when you guys were younger,” I teased.

  He looked a little sheepish and took a long swig of his beer.

  “Actually, she was my girlfriend my last two years of college.”

  I felt a little stunned and nodded my head sharply at the information. Joe had sent me the email before leaving for his junior year. He must have hooked up with Maya right after.

  “Oh cool. Did she go to NYU too?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could manage.

  “Uh, no. We did the long-distance thing, which ended up being really hard and I never want to do it again. It was a long time ago, though. We both agreed to stay friends when we ended things.” He slid his beer glass back and forth between his hands. “She met Lee and lived happily ever after. They have a three-year-old daughter, Hazel. She’s so cute and says the most adorable things. She’s the only human being I allow to call me Joey.” Joe smiled, and I grinned back at him.

  “Aw, Joey. I like that,” I said. “I might have to call you that and see what you do.”

  He growled.


  “Joey!” I laughed.

  “Don’t you say it again,” Joe warned sternly, wagging his finger in front of me.

  “Joey, don’t put your finger in my face, you might not get it back.”

  He laughed and put his finger right in front of me and wagged it back and forth again. Not thinking about it, I grabbed his hand and bit his finger.

  He looked a bit stunned, with his finger between my teeth.

  I let him have his finger back and he looked at me with wide eyes.

  “You bit my finger!”

  “I really did, didn’t I? I’m so sorry!” I worried he was mad, but he started laughing hysterically.

  Through his laughter, he said, “This is why I missed you, Rachel. You take no shit and keep me on my toes.”

  I stood up and did a curtsy, which made him laugh harder.

  “You’re so damn cute.” He shook his head and smiled.

  “Who me?” I batted my eyelashes at him.

  “Yes, you. You always have been. I can still picture what you looked like the night I met you when you were sixteen. Your hair was really short and spiky and you wore these jeans that were way too big for you with holes all over, Weezer T-shirt, and Doc Martens.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing up in every direction. “You were dressed like all the girls that came to our shows, but you were so present. I looked at you and I could tell you were absorbing every little detail. And when we finally talked, you were so sweet and shy, but you had a point of view you had to get across.”

  I just stared at him, completely taken aback that he remembered all of those details, down to the band shirt.

  “And there I go, being a creep again.” He laughed.

  “You’re not a creep at all! I’m just surprised you remember so much about me. That night I noticed your glasses. What happened to them? You were like a rocker version of Paul from The Wonder Years.” I sighed, thinking of how cute he had been back then.

  “That’s hilarious. Sorry to say, I got rid of those glasses many years ago. These days, most of the time, I wear contacts.”