by Kenna Knight
“I guess you know the drill by now, huh?” I ask. This isn’t his first go around with a burglary.
“Unfortunately.”
“Graham, I hate to say this, and I know it’s the last thing you want to hear, but these robberies have all the makings of an inside job. We’re going to need a list of all of your employees to interview and anyone else who has access to your office.”
He is quiet as we walk toward the front doors. “No forced entry. I used my key to get in this morning like always,” he says sounding defeated. My comment must have hit home.
“And the back door?”
“This way.” He leads me back through the salon with slumped shoulders. We take a left at the T this time to a door that exits into a small parking lot in the rear of the building.
“And this one wasn’t disturbed either?”
“No, it was locked, I checked.”
I hear the clicking of heels on the marble floor coming our way, and when I turn around, a petite, curvy woman with long, wavy black hair is bearing down on us. “Graham, oh my God, I can’t believe this happened again. What the hell is going on around here?” she says. When she reaches him, she hugs him tight and kisses him on the mouth leaving a red lipstick mark on him like a brand. Never have I ever wanted to be a woman before, but right now I wish I were her with my lips pressed against Graham’s.
Any visions of Mr. Graham Blackwell being gay evaporate when I see this curvy Latina bombshell in his arms. I figured there was a chance he could be gay, him being a hairdresser, but I shouldn’t have judged. I know better.
The woman uses her thumb to affectionately wipe the lipstick from Graham’s mouth. Suddenly, I feel like I’m interrupting an intimate moment.
“Gloria, this is Detective Yale, he’s helping with the investigation,” he says sliding his arm around her waist and resting his hand on her thick hip. I notice the tattoos on his fingers say LIVE and the other hand says LOVE. “Detective Yale, this is my manager, Gloria Garcia.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Garcia,” I say offering her my hand, but she just looks at it.
“I hope you’re finally going to take this seriously. How many times does this poor man have to be robbed before the San Francisco Police Department does something?” she snaps.
“I assure you, ma’am, we will do everything we can to find out who’s doing this.”
“Mmm hmm, that’s what the last cop said, and the one before that.”
“Gloria, honey, why don’t you go help Melody reschedule some of the appointments we canceled today. I know there are a few she couldn’t get ahold of and a couple that wouldn’t talk to anyone but you,” Graham says kissing her on the cheek.
Two lines form deep grooves on her forehead when she frowns. She huffs and turns on her spiked heels to leave.
“I apologize for her, it’s been stressful on all of us. We don’t want to think someone we work with is a thief, but it’s getting pretty hard to ignore,” he says when she is out of earshot.
“It’s fine, I’ve dealt with much worse, believe me.”
His eyes narrow for a second, and he tilts his head to the side ever so slightly. “I bet you have. I can’t imagine doing your job. Thank you for putting your life on the line every day like you do to keep the citizens of San Francisco safe,” he says reaching out to squeeze my bicep.
I’m stunned into silence. In all the years I’ve been on the force, I have never had a victim say thanks for doing your job. Usually, it’s the responses like Gloria’s that we get which is how I’ve become all but immune to them. But this, the kindness and genuine gratitude Graham has shown us in the short time we have been handling his case, is a new thing for me.
“You’re welcome, it’s just part of the job. I signed up for it, ya know?”
He nods and bites his lip before smiling again. His combination of vulnerability and tough-man exterior makes my chest ache. If he were gay, he would be the perfect man. I hope Gloria appreciates him.
“I’ll get you that list of employee names and phone numbers up front.”
“Okay, sure. Thanks.” He leads me back to the front of the salon where Gloria is busy fast-talking to a pissed-off customer trying to get her to reschedule, and Melody is sitting next to her looking on in awe.
“Mel, could you get Detective Yale a list of employees and their phone numbers?” Graham asks.
“Yeah, sure, but we gave one to the other detectives who were out here before.”
“We would like a copy for our file, if you don’t mind,” I say, and she sighs.
“Melody,” Graham says in a low, authoritative tone.
“Sorry, it’s just that we keep cooperating with them, and nobody’s doing anything.”
“I assure you we will be doing something.”
She clicks a few keys on the keyboard in front of her, and a printer somewhere under the desk whirrs into action. She reaches down and hands over the list. “Thank you, Melody.” She nods but looks doubtful, and I don’t blame her. Apparently, no one has done anything so far, and she’s frustrated.
“I’ll be in touch, Graham. We will do everything we can to find out what’s going on here.”
“Thank you. Oh, here’s my card. Call me anytime.” He hands me a silver and black business card with the woman from the mural in his office on it. I take it with the strange feeling that when he said call me anytime, he meant it in a friendly way, but I dismiss the notion. It wouldn’t matter if he were gay and interested anyway. I’m finished with relationships. Having your heart destroyed by your fiancé, the man who promised to love you forever, will do that to a guy.
Chapter Two
Graham
I hate the way the detectives insinuated that one of my employees—my family—is stealing from me. I have always been one who believes if you treat your people well, really well, and fair, they will be loyal and trustworthy employees. Maybe I’m naïve, but I’d like to think I have surrounded myself with honest people who want to succeed and better themselves.
But something’s going on, and I can’t keep burying my head in the sand hoping the problem will go away. I’m out twenty-nine thousand dollars to whoever is stealing from me. I’m a successful businessman, but even I can’t keep losing money like that.
I have a good feeling about the detectives who came today. They seemed like they gave a damn unlike the others who came before them, especially Detective Yale. He listened to me, really listened, and I could tell he was taking mental notes of the details that other detectives didn’t care about. He was sensitive to the fact that I don’t want this to be an employee ripping me off.
And to top it all off, he was hot as hell. I’ve always been attracted to a man with authority, power, someone who gives balance to my unorganized creative side. And we seemed to have a connection until Gloria came strolling in and kissed me on the mouth. I could see the light that had begun to flicker in his eyes blow out. He thinks I’m straight. It’s happened before, a lot. I’m close to my employees, but Gloria and I go way back to the beginning when I opened my first salon in New York. She was my only employee, a single mother of three babies out of work and willing to help me succeed in any way she could. I helped her with her kids after their father took off leaving her penniless, and she worked as a stylist and did my books. She’s my best friend, and I trust her with everything, so when she’s overly protective, I let it go without a thought. Like today when she kissed me in front of Detective Yale, that was her way of showing solidarity, a unified front. That kiss and the embrace said, “This is my friend, I love him, and you better quit fucking around and find out who’s robbing him.” There was nothing romantic about it for her, but for Detective Yale, it screamed heterosexual! Taken! Go away!
I’m sure I’ll be seeing him again. He’s going to have to contact me about the case, and when he does, he will figure it out, he’s a detective after all. Not that it matters. I can’t date him, not with my past. He’s a cop, a law-abiding citizen. It’s his job
to lock up people like me, or like I used to be.
But there was a connection there I’ve never had with anyone before. He was familiar and easy to talk to, and it was like he knew what I was thinking, and he didn’t hide it.
I suppose you could say anyone would guess that I don’t want the thief to be someone close to me, but he was intuitive and understanding. I’m probably blowing it all out of proportion. What on earth would a cop want with a hairstylist who looks like a biker? Nothing, that’s what.
“Graham, there’s a phone call for you up front. You want me to transfer it back here?” Gloria says stopping at my office door.
“No, I’m headed that way in a minute anyway. I’ll just grab it up there, who is it?”
“I think it’s that cute cop from earlier.”
“Cute? The one you gave a hard time?”
“Yep, that’s the one. Look, Graham, I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries, but those guys aren’t doing shit, and he was obviously into you so I figured we might as well use that to our advantage. If he’s interested in you, and who the hell wouldn’t be, maybe he’ll put a little more effort into your case.”
“I appreciate your help, honey, but I’m pretty sure manipulating the police is a bad idea. He seemed like a genuine guy. I think he would have done his best without the show.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but he’s on the phone already, isn’t he?” she says with a wink. She tosses her long hair over her shoulder and struts down the hall chewing her gum like a teenager.
I can’t argue with that. It’s only been an hour, and he’s a hundred percent more responsive than anyone else at the SFPD has been.
I walk to the front of the salon and pick up the phone just as my first and only client of the day walks through the front door thanks to closing down because of the robbery. My regular clients are starting to wonder what’s going on. I haven’t closed my doors once in all the years we’ve been open, and now I have three times in one month. We need to figure out who’s doing this and fast before it get’s out. I don’t want my clients thinking they aren’t safe when they come to get their hair done at Tease.
I lift the receiver and cover it lightly with my hand, “Hello, love, go ahead and have a seat at my station. I’ll be right there. Can I bring you a drink?”
Michaela shakes her head no as I knew she would. Models won’t drink in front of me for fear I’ll tell the world they consumed more than fifty calories in a single beverage.
I uncover the receiver and apologize to Detective Yale. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, Detective Yale, is it?”
“Yes, but please, call me Levi.”
“Well, all right then, Levi, I’m sorry to keep you waiting. What can I do for you?”
“I was looking over the names you gave me, and there doesn’t seem to be a phone number or an address for a Mr. Jorge Hernandez.”
“Oh, that’s because Jorge just moved to San Francisco a few months ago. I’ll get it from him when he comes in tomorrow morning, and I’ll give you a call.”
“So you haven’t known him long?”
“I met him at a hair show in So Cal a year ago. We kept in contact, and when he moved here, I gave him a job. We must have forgotten to add his address and phone number to our list.”
“I see. Well, when you get his information, give me a call, please.”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“No, thank you, I appreciate you giving my case some attention.”
“No problem, it’s my job. I’ll let you get back to yours, have a nice day, Graham.”
“You, too, Levi.”
We hang up, and I sigh. That accent, I could listen to him talk all day.
“Graham Blackwell, you have a crush on that cop, don’t you?” Gloria says bumping her hip against mine. I smile a small, sad smile and shrug. “He’s adorable, but it doesn’t matter, he’s a cop.”
Her brows knit together in a frown. “And?”
“Have you forgotten about my past? There’s no way he would be interested.”
“Porqua no, Graham. That’s ridiculous, you had a problem. You conquered it a long time ago. Stop letting that one thing affect the great life you’ve made. Look at all the wonderful things you’ve done since then, all the people you’ve helped. Any man would be proud to date you. Quit being so hard on yourself. Te queiro mucho, amigo.”
“I love you, too, honey, but it’s not that easy. He has access to things that everyday people don’t. I can’t just delete that part of my life, it happened.”
I’d do anything if it hadn’t, but it did. I made bad choices that still manage to haunt me ten years later. I might be able to hide my past from other men, but not a police detective, not Levi Yale.
Chapter Three
Levi
In twenty-four hours, I have found that Graham’s employees are, as he said they would be, squeaky clean, honest, loyal people, who work hard and love their boss. They all have one thing in common—Graham helped them at a low point in their lives, and they can’t wait to tell me about it.
Selena is a twenty-one-year-old woman who was thrown out by her parents when she was eighteen. Graham met her at a coffee shop and helped her find a place to live with a couple of other girls and put her through cosmetology school. She’s worked for him since she graduated.
Graham introduced Chaz to his husband after Chaz had been through a bad break-up, and they are about to adopt their first child. Chaz thinks Graham hung the moon.
Ari is a fierce twenty-seven-year-old model who Graham met in London during a photo shoot. Apparently, Graham is also a model, go figure. She was tired of being a modeling nomad, and Graham gave her a place to settle down and work in California.
The list goes on and on. He’s got to be one of the most generous men I’ve ever met. His kind heart is a total contradiction to his badass looks, but that’s part of his charm.
The one employee who has me suspicious is this Jorge. He came to work at Tease a few months ago and hasn’t supplied an address or phone number in all that time. I did some digging, and I can’t find anything on a Jorge Hernandez from Southern California, but with nothing to go on but a name, that doesn’t mean much.
I’m half tempted to stop by Tease to see if Jorge is working, but Graham said he would get back to me today with his information. He’s probably backed up after being closed most of the day yesterday and hasn’t had time to call. A phone call wouldn’t be disruptive, but then I wouldn’t get to see the gorgeous tattoo king again.
I can’t get him out of my head. All day yesterday, I kept seeing him walking in front of me in his sexy jeans remembering his minty breath on my cheek when we were looking into the safe room, feeling his hand on my bicep when he thanked me for doing my job. Thanked. Me. For. Doing. My. Job. And when I went to bed, my hand found it’s way between my legs as I imagined what the tattoos under his shirt and pants might look like.
It’s official. I’m obsessed. Being obsessed is what nearly killed me three years ago when Neil left me. I can’t risk that happening again. Graham will be a vision in my mind to turn to late at night when I’m lonely and nothing more.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as if on cue—it’s him. Being an overly organized man, I put his name and phone number in my contact list right away. An unnecessary move as he could call the precinct, and they would patch him through to my desk like every other victim on the list of cases I’m working.
But Graham hasn’t been like all the other victims since I laid eyes on him yesterday. As much as I don’t like it, and as scared as I am to admit, Graham is different, he’s special, and most of all, he’s unforgettable.
I press the answer button and wait to hear his rough voice while my heart picks up its pace to double-time. “Detective Yale,” I say.
“Hello, Levi? I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you earlier. Things have been a little hectic around here today fitting extra clients into our schedule.”
�
�It’s not a problem, I still have quite a few on your list to interview.”
“Ah great, any criminals?” he asks laughing. He wholeheartedly believes that no one who works for him could be his thief.
“You’ll be happy to hear that everyone speaks very highly of you, and I have had no suspicions so far. However, that doesn’t do much for your case. Were you able to get Jorge’s information?”
“Yes, hang on, I have it here somewhere. He stopped in this morning, but I sent him home sick. I think he has the flu.” I listen to him shuffle papers around looking for the address. “Crap, can you hold a second? I’m not much for organization. I need to ask Gloria if she moved… oh, wait! Here it is!” he shouts. I can only imagine how his desk looks. He rattles off Jorge’s address and phone number and advises me to wait until tomorrow since he’s at home sick.
“Thank you, I’ll get everyone else’s interviews done and leave his for last.”
“Great, hey, can you hold for a second? I think Gloria said Zoe’s phone number is an old one, but she’s got her new number in her phone.”
“Sure, or I can call her myself if you’re busy.”
“That would be perfect, I have a client in my chair and another one waiting that I need to greet. You have her number?”
“Indeed, I do.”
He pauses, and I swear I hear him smile. “Love that accent, man. It’s killer.”
I feel a blush creeping up my neck, and I’m glad as hell that we’re having this discussion on the phone and not in person. “Thanks, I don’t hear it anymore, but if you say so.”
“I do, I really do. Okay, shoot Gloria a call, and I think you’re all set. I can’t say I hope you find what you’re looking for, so I’ll just wish you luck in solving the case.”
“Understood. Goodbye, Graham.”
“Later, Levi.”
I press the red disconnect button and flop back in my chair allowing my coiled muscles to relax into the leather. God, that man makes me… he makes me nervous like a fifteen-year-old kid on his first date. It’s ridiculous.
