Leslie's Curl & Dye

by DL White

I bowed my head, as did the rest of the room, while Mr. Cable zipped through the same prayer he always prayed whenever he was asked to. The Lord was probably tired of hearing that same old prayer. After the formalities, Mr. Cable opened the floor to the first guest on the agenda: Kade Cavanaugh, Owner, Guys N' Dolls Salon.

  A low murmur wove through the crowd as KC stood. His shoes made a squeaking sound on the gymnasium floor as he made his way up the aisle to the front, then stood at the podium. He had to bend so far over the microphone that the janitor came to adjust it, raising the stand as high as it could go.

  KC laid a folio on the podium and opened it, pulling out a page of notes. When he spoke, his voice boomed across the room. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of the Potter Lake City Council. Some of you may know who I am. For those of you that don't, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kade Cavanaugh. I attended Healy University. I was drafted to the NBA from Healy and played on several NBA teams before retiring a few years ago."

  He paused, clearing his throat and letting the murmurs die down again. "I've come before you tonight with an issue that I want to make you aware of, if you aren't already. That issue involves the Mayor of Potter Lake. I can't imagine that you don't know what's been going on with my business, with the businesses that have chosen to break ground and build here, but also with the existing businesses in this town."

  Mayor Adams sat in his seat, staring at the surface of the table with a scowl on his face. He didn't even have the decency, it seemed, to act contrite or embarrassed. He just looked mad.

  KC began to tell the story of how he, and others like him, sat in on a presentation that the Mayor gave about investing in the City of Potter Lake. KC produced the signed contract, the one he'd been told was worthless, for the council to view. He handed it to Mr. Cable and it made its way down one end of the eight person council, and ended up at the other end of the table. A few members, upon viewing the Mayor's chicken scratch signature, had raised eyebrows and questioning glances.

  "So, what is it that you're hoping to resolve this evening, Mr. Cavanaugh? The Mayor informed you that the contract was null and void. It was drawn up in fraudulent circumstances and would have never been enforced."

  "I was made aware of that, yes. But you have a man in office that swindled more than half of this room—"

  "And he's killing the other half," said Pops, struggling to his feet. "May I speak, young man?"

  "Please, sir," said KC. "Go ahead."

  "I operate Hill Automotive with my son in law. We’ve been around a good while, been doing good business, towing and repair for the town. All-a-sudden, we not gettin' no more business. Come to find out, the Mayor set up some kinda deal for some Jiffy Lube or Midas or big tow company to come out here and open up shop. I heard tell he's spreading rumors that there ain't nothin' over on the old side of Potter Lake and that just ain't true."

  "Yeah," said Daddy, standing. As did Joe Jessup and Frank Crawford. "I mean, that’s the rub. Fine, if you want to expand the town and bring people here. Welcome. More people should mean more business. But don't lie and say there aren't services across the lake. We’ve got land to build houses on, too. We got grocery stores and ice cream shops and bowling alleys. More than that, we’ve got people that depend on being able to open up shop, have a good day of business and go home to their families. Frank, back there, he's looking at maybe having to look for work in Healy since the Landry's opened up on the other side of the lake."

  "Well, maybe if Frank Crawford wasn't still selling appliances from 1967,” shouted a woman from across the aisle. I ventured a guess that she worked at Landry's Hardware.

  "Woman, I don't sell nothing from no sixty-seven," Frank shot back. "But most people in this town have older model washers and dryers. You take that thing to Landry's, they'll tell you to drop it off at the dump and wanna sell you a set that cost almost a grand. Don't make no sense. I can repair a washer, dishwasher or dryer, basically any household appliance from 1980 and forward. Fine if you want something shiny and new, but Crawford and Sons is still open and I still want to do business."

  I stood, raising my hand and looking directly at Mr. Cable. He'd given up control of this section of the meeting a long time ago. He shrugged his shoulders and waved me forward. I worked my way through the row and up the aisle to stand next to KC, but now the microphone was too tall. He lowered it for me, catching my eye.

  "Ladies, gentlemen, business owners and employees. The point of coming to this meeting is not to fight amongst each other. We all have a stake here. Each of us owns a piece of this town, or this town owns a piece of our hearts. We wanted to come here tonight to talk about how the old side of Potter Lake— Jessup Plumbing and Crawford & Sons and Ella's Boutique and Gerald's Kwik E Mart— can continue to thrive alongside all these new business that are popping up. In the middle of this drama, amid all this fighting is one person, telling lies to everyone he comes into contact with. That person has got to go. And if the council knew what he was up to, I'd say y'all got to go, too."

  My speech drew applause and shouts of that's right! Uh huh! That's what we talkin' about from the back of the room to the front. People were on their feet, either yelling at the Mayor about the money they weren't getting or yelling at the Mayor about trying to kill their businesses.

  I guess he'd finally had enough. Mayor Adams stood, pulled at his suit jacket, straightened his tie and moved toward the podium.

  "The council yields the floor to Mayor Quincy Adams," Mr. Cable announced. KC and I stepped aside and the Mayor gripped the microphone, pulling it from its stand.

  "Now look here," he started, beginning to pace from one side of the room to the other. "Most of ya, I've known a long time. Some of ya are new to Potter Lake. All of ya should know that I don't have any intention, whatsoever, of swindling anyone out of money. Now, I spoke to Mr. Cavanaugh and I apologized for my misunderstanding, for offering him money that wasn't available to be offered. When the city council told me about a fund where we had been setting aside money, I didn't realize that those funds were already earmarked for another project—”

  "So why wasn't there a meeting set up where you could tell us all that there wasn't any money?" That was asked by a middle aged gentleman in the second row. His t-shirt had the logo of one of the smoothie shops in the same strip mall as KC's shop. "If we had known that, some of us might not have put so much money into our projects."

  "Well, that would have been a problem, wouldn't it? Look, the salon— Guys N' Dolls... y'all are doing good business. I mean, I'm not asking, I've seen the annual business tax reports. Sweet Smoothies is turning a profit. Landry Hardware, Rita's Pita's... all of ya are making money hand over fist, what with new people moving out here every day."

  "And that's all well and good for your pet project across the lake," shouted Pops. "Meanwhile, ain't nothing happening over on our side of town. What you got to say about that?"

  "Well, the plan was to wait until the new side filled up and people were thirsty for land. And then we could get y'all top dollar for the land you're sitting on. Somebody would come and buy Hill Automotive or Jessup Plumbing— the land and the business. It's worth good money. Just got to be patient enough for it to come to fruition."

  KC stepped to the podium, then. "With all due respect, sir, it’s obvious these businesses are starving to death. When were you going to present the idea to offer their land up for purchase? I know for a fact that my shop directly affects The Curl & Dye. You were going to let me kill Leslie's shop before you offered her money for her land?"

  "Uh... I... I mean, I... didn't have an exact plan," he sputtered. "It... it was an idea-"

  "That was never presented to city council," said Eugene, my client Angela's husband. I cringed when I looked at his hair. That Guys N' Dolls cut did nothing for the shape of his head. “You’ve been freewheeling for a long time, Mayor. Running roughshod over this town and it looks like people are sick of it.”

  "Well, here is the thing
," said Mayor Adams, drawing himself up taller, yelling to be heard above the growing din in the room. "Thing is, I’m the Mayor. Thing is, I'm an elected official. Thing is, none of ya can run this town like I can, like I have for the last good while. On the whole, Potter Lake is pretty good. Thing is, what's past is past. I'm done talking about this issue, now. What we need to talk about right now, is how to move on.”

  He replaced the microphone in the stand and waddled back to his chair, dropped into it and resumed scowling at the table.

  "Uh, let's take a recess," suggested Mr. Cable. "And then we will continue with the agenda and the discussion of street lamps and traffic signals. Reconvene in twenty minutes." He slapped the surface of the table and stood, then walked straight out of the room. I didn't blame him.

  "I guess that's it for our piece," said KC. He picked up his folio from the podium and inserted his notes, then closed it and tucked it under one arm.

  "Yep. And the Mayor basically gave us the one figure salute and said we could kiss his ass."

  'That he did," said KC, nodding deeply.

  "So. What's the plan, now?"

  KC viewed the crowd that was already dispersing and thinning out. People from both sides of the lake were mingling and talking, shaking hands and exchanging business cards. He returned his gaze to me, the gold flecks in his eyes glowing. “I’ll be damned if I kiss that man's ass. How about you?"

  "Wouldn't dream of it."

  "I hoped you'd say that. Can we talk?"

  Chapter Twelve

  KC

  * * *

  A small crowd of people milled around the front of the recreation center building, random conversations falling on my ears in snippets. I'd told Kendrick and TC that I had plans after the meeting, so they had already headed out. I watched Leslie walk Tamera to her car, no doubt breaking the news that she and I were going somewhere together. I saw Tam's head pop up, then she shook her head, then seemed to sigh in resignation and got into her car.

  After Tamera drove away, I led Leslie to the truck and let her in on the passenger side. Once she was settled, I jogged around the front of the truck and got in. I backed out of the space, weaving around cars and people, making my way to the street. The recreation center was an older building on the other side of Potter Lake, so I headed towards the bridge.

  "Where are we going?" Leslie asked.

  "This place that I like over near me. It's called Thai Bistro. Have you ever been there?"

  "You know good and well I haven't."

  I laughed. "Now how do I know that? You think I stalk you? You think I've been paying attention to where you go?”

  She propped an elbow up on the windowsill and fixed her gaze to the scene outside the window. "Just drive, KC."

  It didn't take long for us to pull into Thai Bistro. The place wasn't busy at all, which was why I liked hanging out there so much. I didn't want to sit in a loud lounge trying to talk over music.

  The hostess led us to a booth at the back of the restaurant. We each ordered a Coke, lots of ice. Leslie pulled the dessert menu out of its holder at the end of the table.

  "You must come here a lot. The waitress acted like she knew you."

  I chuckled, tilting my head. I was trying to figure out if Leslie was being funny or not. "When your face was all over ESPN for ten years, everyone thinks they know you. But yeah, I come here a lot with Kendrick and Monica and sometimes my sister."

  "Monica is Kendrick's wife?"

  I nodded. "They met at Healy, after I left. Been going strong ever since."

  Leslie got quiet… melancholy. Her gaze dropped to the surface of the table and she had stopped fiddling with the dessert menu. “We should clear the air, I think. I feel like we have a lot to talk about."

  Finally. "Nothing would make me happier. What do you want to talk about?"

  "Well, first off, I had to find out about your mother's MS diagnosis in some Sports Illustrated interview. You said you found out when you were in college. So when we knew each other. Why didn't you tell me?"

  "It just... hit me pretty hard. I couldn’t really talk about it, and we didn't disclose family business outside of the family. MS symptoms are flighty… it comes and goes, hides under a lot of different ailments. But when they said, for sure, it was MS, it just felt like… like they put an end date on her life. You know what I’m saying?”

  She nodded, slowly, her lips in a downturn. I knew her grandmother was laid up at a nursing home due to a stroke, so maybe she got where I was coming from. It never really occurred to me that it would hurt her that I’d never told her, but her eyes told me differently. I should have told her.

  “My parents hadn’t been saying anything but they were in debt, just from years of trying to find out what was wrong with her. And then the diagnosis came and her doctors were talking about treatment programs and medications and MRI’s. It about broke my dad. I just saw the dollars adding up. It was stressful."

  "But you and me were close, KC. Were we really friends at all if you couldn't tell me that’s what you’d been dealing with? That’s why you were so distant and cold to me?”

  The waitress arrived, bringing our drinks and napkins. She was chipper and cheerful as people tend to be around me. I gave her about ten minutes before she asked for an autograph and a selfie. And then about one minute before the photo showed up on Facebook and Instagram and my notifications went nuts. It seemed like some days, nobody knew who I was. I could move around town easily and not get any attention. And then some days it was hard to just leave the house and go to the grocery store without being approached for a signature, for a picture or some kind of story.

  "I didn’t really know what was up, you know? Not enough to get my feelings together to talk about it. I went for the draft on the chance that I would get picked up. I got lucky with a couple of really good offers and I went with the team that offered the most money. I sent that money home to pay off bills."

  "Don’t you regret leaving college to go play basketball? I mean, now you're out here in your 30’s and you don't even have a degree. You own a barbershop and a truck."

  I chuckled. "You have a degree and you’re not doing much better. But if you just have to know, I do alright. I paid off my parent's house. They’re selling it and building a new one. Cavanaugh General Contracting is debt free. My mom is comfortable and her treatments are taken care of. TC lives in a house that I bought her. She’s debt free, student loans been paid off. I own the unit next door. I don’t ever have to worry about money if I don’t want to. And yeah, I own a salon that's making money hand over fist. Regrets?”

  I shook my head, a sardonic grin on my lips. “Like I said, I do alright.”

  I watched a blush creep up Leslie's chest to her neck and take over her face. I'd pissed her off and I knew it, but she tried to jab me, like that piece of paper made her better than me.

  "Sorry,” I threw out, before she could snap at me about it. “I know the salon is a sore subject, but you brought it up."

  "I did,” she said quietly. “I shouldn't have."

  "I tried to reach out to you, to tell you about my mom. I wanted to keep in touch with you. Everything was returned to me. You never called, you never wrote."

  "I was mad."

  "In one of my letters I said that I wanted to talk to you about something and asked if you would call me. That's when I was going to tell you about my mom. We knew more and had more information and I was ready to share. That was right before I did that Sports Illustrated spread.” I shrugged my shoulders. “But you never called."

  "I know, KC. I was wrong for that. And if it means anything all these years later, I'm sorry. I wish I could have been there for you."

  I held my tongue or a few moments. I was trying to stop snipping and starting arguments, so I waited until I was sure a smart ass remark wasn't on the tip of my tongue.

  "It actually means a lot to me. Thank you."

  "So, you running off halfway through our sophomore year had nothing to
do with us sleeping together?"

  "I didn't run off, first of all. That decision was calculated. I put a lot of thought into it. And second, me leaving Healy had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me needing to contribute to my family's financial situation. I had a chance to make a huge dent in those bills before they bankrupted my dad."

  "Okay," Leslie said, a hint of something… sympathy maybe, at the edge of her voice. “I get it. I just wanted to get that off of my chest. Have wanted to get that off of my chest for a long time."

  "Well, now you have. How do you feel?"

  She shrugged her shoulder and started playing with the dessert menu again. She wanted to smile, I could tell. “Fine, I guess.”

  I unwrapped my straw and dunked it into my glass, sucked it down about half of it and then pushed it away, stifling a belch behind a fist. Leslie unwrapped her straw and dunked it into her glass, sucking slowly and deliberately. I think she was doing that shit on purpose. "I don't know why you're acting like you have manners," she said, between sips. "The KC I know would drink that down and then burp in my face."

  "I'm trying to get you used to being around me again before I let my true gross nature hang out."

  "I know it's lurking, right on the edge. Might as well be yourself." A beat of silence passed, then she asked the question I knew was coming. "So, how do you feel about tonight's meeting?"

  "Half and half, good and... so-so. I achieved what I set out to do, which was to expose the Mayor to the city council. Something tells me they all know he's a crook but he's the only person that has signed up for the job for the last 20 years and clearly no one feels fit to run against him."

  "Are you serious about throwing your name into the ring?"

  "I might be. I don't see anyone else stepping up to the plate. What's going to stop Mayor Adams from doing something else in the next couple of years that affects the business owners of this town? He's thinking about money. He's thinking about himself and not about the people that live here."