by DL White
"I'm not gonna put up with too many more snide comments about my shop, Les."
I laughed, sliding my foot into one sandal and then the other and tightening the straps around my ankles. "Them's the breaks, KC. You made your bed, you get to lie in it."
I pushed myself up from the couch, then watched him slowly get up, taking care to not over-exert his knee.
"So what's up with the knee?"
"It hurts," he quipped, bending over to shove his feet into a pair of giant black sneakers. "It hurt when I met you. Remember?"
"Yeah. But I also remember you've had surgery. Multiple surgeries. How does it still hurt?"
"Surgery doesn't make pain go away. I mean, in theory it should, but it's still injured, just not the same as before. Every injury forces me to change how I play to compensate. Those concessions make me susceptible to further injury. I hurt it, had surgery, went through rehab. Then I reinjured and…” He blew out a long, loud breath, shaking his head. His keys jingled in his hand as he led me out of the house and back to the garage.
"KC?" I heard a female voice call from outside. He stepped to a door that, I guessed, led to the back of the house. “That you?”
He pushed the door open and poked his head out of the small opening he'd made. "Who else would it be? What are you doing out here?"
“Having a drink, talking to Monica on the phone. The baby is giving her heartburn. Where are you about to go?"
"I'm about to run Leslie home. I brought her over to show her the place. I'll be back."
"You brought who? To show what?"
"I'll be back," he said, pulling the door shut again. "So that small town thing you talked about? She is my small town. I can't do nothin' without her, Monica and Kendrick knowing about it. Then I get a call from my parents wanting details."
He opened the passenger side door and helped me up into the truck, then shut it and came around the driver's side. "When I was about to switch teams, I damn near had to call them first, otherwise I'd hear all about how they had to find out on ESPN."
"At least they care. They're concerned and interested."
"Yeah. I guess." The garage door slowly rose, revealing the half built house across the street. KC backed out of the garage, then pulled forward, heading for the subdivision exit. "But if that's how a person shows they care, you didn't give a half a shit, Leslie."
"I already apologized for that, KC."
"I'm still mad about it."
"Well, you're going to have to get over it."
"I think not. Somebody just told me that I made my bed and now I get to lay in it. I think you get to just deal with me mentioning, all the time, how you did me dirty until I'm done complaining about it."
I chuckled. "Fine. If that's how you want to play it. Though I should remind you that you need my help, Mr. Trying to Run for Mayor."
"And you need mine, Ms. You’re Taking my Business.”
Potter Lake didn't have a lot of street lamps. That had been on the agenda for discussion at the city council meeting that evening, along with stop signs and traffic lights. That meant the late night drive was quiet and dark, with few headlights accompanying us on the road.
And lots of time to think. We had each other over a barrel... the same barrel. My business needed him to back off and send my customers back to me. He needed me to help him win the favor of half the town.
I needed to forgive him for dropping us at the first opportunity.
And he needed to forgive me for being hurt about that.
We had a lot of work to do.
Chapter Fourteen
KC
* * *
"So for regular cuts, or a wash and trim, it's cool for the ladies to get their hair done here. Chemicals, color, anything real fancy, anything you'd have done at a spa like nails, brows, wax, stuff like that? Let's send them over to the Curl & Dye. Any questions?"
"Yeah, I got a question."
Tracey piped up with her hand raised high in the air. Her hair was platinum blonde, which was striking against her honey-brown skin tone. Her cupid’s bow lips pursed in a scowl and her arched brows were knit together. I knew she'd have something to say. She always had something to say.
"Let me head you off at the pass," I offered, both hands raised to quiet the murmurs. Tracey lowered her hand and assumed her previous pose, arms tightly folded across her ample chest.
"The owner over at Curl & Dye is going to be working with me on a project. You'll find out more in the coming weeks, but she's doing me a favor. I'm doing her one back. The Dolls side of the shop isn't the earner I want it to be. I don't have enough stylists that can work with chemicals to confidently staff that side of the shop. So for now, keep it simple."
I paused to direct the next comment directly at Tracey. "I know you can do a mean military cut and a nice fade, so feel free to grab a customer from the Guys side if your chair is getting slow. It's not like it's pink and frilly over there. It's the same setup, just the other side of the shop."
Tracey seemed pleased with the compromise that she could cut on whichever side she chose. At least, she didn't argue when I made the suggestion. I scanned the room, trying to catch the eyes of the staff I'd gathered for a quick pre-opening meeting. Most of them looked bored, which I expected. The announcement didn't affect them, really. I only had a few female stylists and it looked like they were relieved to not have to work with chemicals. Only Tracey, who liked to show off her skills, seemed upset.
"Any other questions? Problems? Issues or concerns?"
Erik's hand appeared in the air. I propped my hands on my hips and cut my eyes at him. That boy was foolish as anything and I didn't have time for his jokes today. "What, man? Is it a real question or are you wasting our time?"
"It's a real question! Dang. So..." Erik rubbed his dry palms together and shot me a look that told me he was about to ask a stupid question. "I heard you been knowing that Leslie chick. Is that true? And y'all been hanging out a lot lately. So, we're like... doing favors for your girlfriend?"
"Heard that, did you? Well, unhear it, because it's none of your business. Next question." I rolled my eyes at Erik’s hand in the air again. "What, man?"
"Okay for real, for real. I heard you're running against old man Adams in the fall. What's up with that?"
I dipped my head, glancing at the toes of my sneakers. When I lifted my head, I had a shop full of very interested staff members, all paying rapt attention. "That's something I'm looking into and that’s what Leslie is helping me out with. That's why us sending business over there is good for us both. That's all I'm willing to say, until things are official. Alright?"
I clapped my hands together, ending the meeting. "Let's cut some hair."
Hours later, the sound of a basketball on the rec center court was music to my ears. The echo of the rubber bouncing against the hardwoods resonated with me, down to the soles of my ball shoes. I'd gotten a new pair from Aris, the sportswear brand that I still repped— not just shoes but activewear as well. I wanted to test them out, so I asked Kendrick to play me.
Kendrick was a good player, as good as I was back at Healy, but decided to forego the draft for his degree, figuring he could try again after graduation. Then he met Monica and a life on the road playing ball wasn't his dream anymore. I'd told him to keep his skills up, though, because when I came off the court, I was coming for him.
We played at least once a week, and then on a basketball league with a very loose game schedule. When I asked Kendrick to "run me", he knew exactly what I meant. I wanted to be dripping sweat and breathing hard when we were done playing.
Kendrick was playing light tonight. And it was getting on my nerves. He began a lazy lay-up but I jumped and grabbed the ball mid-air and held it, wedged between my arm and my body.
"You got something on your mind? Is it Monica? The baby? The shop? What?"
Kendrick pulled up the hem of his shirt and wiped the nearly non-existent sheen of sweat from his face. "Play the ball, man.
"
"You're not even sweating hard and we've been out here for an hour. What's up, K?"
"Nothin' man. You want me to play harder? You got it. Send me the fuckin’ ball."
"Man..." I slammed the ball to the ground hard, sending it flying toward the other side of the gym. "Fuck this ball. You got something to say. Just say it."
Kendrick paced for a few seconds, then stopped, hands at his waist. “Aight. so…Guys N' Dolls is our shop. You know? It’s you and me in business together. It's how I feed my family, man. I guess I don't feel comfortable with how close you seem to Leslie, seeing as how we compete with her for business and the Dolls side of the shop isn't doing the numbers we want it to do. I know y'all go way back. But I also know you feel guilty about how this has gone down."
He moved a few paces away, then stopped. "And uh. I knew you liked her, back at Healy. You tried to keep in touch with her and it didn't work out, and you feel like this is some kind of second chance at her but—”
He used his t-shirt to wipe sweat from his forehead again and rolled it back down. Stalling. "Just… don't jeopardize the shop for some nostalgic pussy. That’s all I'm saying."
My head tilted toward him, just slightly. I wanted to make sure I heard every syllable from his slick mouth. "Did you just call Leslie nostalgic pussy? Did I hear that right?"
"I mean, I don't mean any disrespect to her…”
"You called her nostalgic pussy. I think that's plenty disrespectful.”
Kendrick shrugged, staring at the floor.
"Is there an apology coming, or do I have to step to you? Because I will."
"Alright, alright," he said, his hands raised in surrender. "I'm sorry. That was over the line. But I mean, that right there proves it. You're pissed I said that. Because you do care about her."
"So what?"
"So... it's a conflict of interest."
"No, it isn't. It's one friend helping out another."
"I believe that's what you want it to be. But KC, man...if that shop was owned by anyone but Leslie you wouldn't give a rat's ass about what happens to it."
"You're right. But it’s not owned by anyone else. It’s owned by someone I care about. Someone who's going to help me change the future of this town, so if I have to send her the business she can do better than me, then okay. I can do her that favor. Is this going to be a problem?"
He shook his head, but the taut line of his lips said otherwise. "Not if it means my job. I'm just there to cut hair."
"Wrong. You're my head barber. You teach, supervise, and lead. You support the vision. The shop isn't going anywhere, Kendrick. This isn't going to kill us. We're doing great, to be honest. You're not going to cut fewer heads. You know this, right?"
"Yeah. I know. I just— "
"You're concerned. I appreciate and welcome that. But I also need you to trust that I know what I'm doing. I would never put your livelihood at stake, man. Not with my niece coming soon."
That got the smile I was hoping for. Kendrick was out of his mind with anticipation of his daughter's arrival.
"So. Trust you. Follow your lead. Send our business out the door." He turned to rescue the ball from where it had wedged itself between the wall and the bleachers. He jogged back, dribbling across the court. "If my clientele drops by even one person, I'm taking it outta your ass on this court. So be ready."
"Bet," I said, in crouch position, ready for him to deliver one of his patented lazy lay ups so I could block it, steal the ball and run the court to make my shot.
Chapter Fifteen
Leslie
* * *
"How long you gonna be mad at me, Tamera?"
"Until you wake up," she snapped, popping her gum and slamming haircare products around in the cabinet we used for extra stock.
"You mind not throwing my shit around while you have your temper tantrum?"
She huffed, then slammed the metal doors shut. "I have an appointment."
I followed her to her chair, which she knew I would do. Tam was prone to getting hot under the collar. She and I needed to talk things out so she could get her attitude out and her mood in check. If I didn't force the conversation, there would be nothing but sniping and side commentary from her. She and I were too close for that.
"What are you mad about, exactly? Do you even know?"
Halfway to her chair, Tam whirled around. "Oh, I know exactly what I'm mad about. And I told your ass. I told you not to let some dust and cobwebs get you in trouble. That man is nice to you for fourteen seconds, eats your mama's meatloaf sandwich and all of a sudden you two are working together."
Her espresso brown eyes rolled nearly all the way back in her head. She turned to walk to her chair, but stopped and whipped around to face me again.
"Do you remember, after you let him hit and he ran off, that you came crying to me? You sobbed on my shoulder. Now you're standing here telling me that you two are friendly and you're going to help him run for Mayor!"
She turned again and this time, made it to her chair, opened a drawer and pulled out a cape with a fading Curl & Dye logo. She laid it on the chair and pulled her apron from its hook on the wall, looping the top over her head and tying the strings behind her.
"Seriously, Leslie. Are you out of your damn mind? I feel like you don't learn from past mistakes. Didn't I just rescue you from some other fool? Is this going to be my job from now on? Pulling you out of situations you should have never damn been in?"
"Whoa, wait. Hold on. What do you mean, should have never been in?"
"You knew KC was doing that sorority girl. You were jealous as hell and wouldn't admit it. You went to his room hoping to trump her like your pussy was sweeter— "
"Nope, see that's where you're wrong. They broke up long before I slept with KC. He was available, fair and square."
"She said they were still sleeping together, right up until he left Healy. And Dexter..." She sighed, shaking her head. "You wanted the opposite of KC and you got him. And it still didn't work out, did it?"
I scratched my temple, trying hard to keep my temper in check. We needed to have this conversation. This conversation needed to stay a conversation and not turn into an argument. But Tamera was pushing buttons like only she knew how.
"So, you're mad about some rumors from my college years and a relationship that went sideways, through no fault of my own? What does that have to do with right now and why you're cutting eyes at me and slamming shit around this shop?"
"Because I'm sick of rescuing you from stupid leaps of faith, Leslie. I hope I'm wrong, but KC fucked you and left you on the side of the road like the original groupie. I know you think you're different. But you're not, not to guys like him."
"I'm not— and never was a Kade Cavanaugh groupie. Get that through that thick head of yours, first of all."
"Whatever, Leslie. You slept with him—”
"He wasn't anything but a Healy University basketball player back then. I cared about him. We cared about each other."
“He had a funny way of showing it. Look, all I know is he'd better watch his step, because if he so much as looks at you the wrong way, I'm going. to go. off."
I had wandered over to my chair and, much more calmly, began to prep for Mrs. Isaac's appointment. She wouldn't be getting a color refresh, just a wash and roller set. At Tamera’s threat, I stopped arranging things and turned around.
"This attitude is because you're protective of me and you think KC is going to fuck me over like he did in college. Like Dexter did a few years ago. And you're going to be on the "Put Leslie Back Together" Team. Is that it?"
Tamera, folding towels at her station, didn't answer for a few seconds. But then, quietly, she said, "I can't stand for you to be hurt again, not when you can help it. There's no reason to invite heartache, Leslie."
I moved a few feet away to her chair and pulled the towel she'd been folding out of her hands. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and waited for her to relent and hug me back. I laug
hed when I finally felt her spindly arms around me, then shrieked when she poked her pointy nail talons in my side.
I backed away, laughing. Tam was trying hard not to, but the corners of her mouth were creeping up. "Go on, now. Making me all soft. Our apprentices have graduation stuff today, so we're down two people. It’s going to be a busy day and I actually have appointments, so I got shit to do."
"Fine, Miss 'I Have Shit to Do'. I love you too. But if I don't do this and get Quincy Adams out of office, this place goes down in flames. And besides..." I stopped to laugh, nervously playing with the small hoops in my ears. "I'm helping him run for Mayor, not screwing him."
"Mmhmm," she hummed, stocking the freshly folded towels in the cabinet behind her chair. "You forget that you wear your emotions. You are falling for him again. I don't even want to argue about it, Leslie. I’ve seen that look on your face before. Just be careful.”
"Tamera, I promise— "
"Nah uh," she protested, a hand up to block my words. "I don't want to hear promises you know your dusty, hard-up ass can't keep. Do me a favor and get some dick or a vibrator or something to fight off those KC vibes because... girl. You are a sucker if I ever saw one."
It was so lucky for Tam that Mrs. Isaacs walked in at that very minute, because I was wearing some feelings on my face, alright.
Chapter Sixteen
KC
* * *
The first meeting of the committee to elect Kade Cavanaugh to Potter Lake City Council— which, at the moment was just me and Leslie — happened on a Thursday night. I had asked her to meet me at Thai Bistro and, by the time she walked in, had commandeered the booth at the back of the restaurant. It wasn’t that I was hiding, but I didn’t want to be in sight of the extra friendly waitress.
I’d officially filed papers a few days before, making me a candidate for the October Mayoral election. If I was being honest, I’d admit to being out of my mind with nerves and anxiety. Not so much fear, but so much was riding on this election. I couldn’t screw it up. That’s where Leslie came in and why I was relieved she had agreed to help me run.
