by Liliana Hart
Their gazes locked and her eyes widened with what might have been panic. It was funny that she could be totally calm at the sight of a twitching dead body, but the sight of a healthy and virile man sent her into a panic. It was probably something she should ask her therapist about. Though it had been several years since she’d been to see him. You couldn’t grow up with a mother like Theodora and not need a little therapy. It had taken her a lot of years to understand that Theodora did love her as much as she was capable of loving anyone.
Tess pressed down on the gas and shot backward out of the driveway, her left tire rolling over the curb, and then she threw the car in drive and burned rubber down Main Street. Her heart was pounding and there were little beads of sweat above her upper lip.
Her phone rang and Deacon’s name appeared on the caller I.D. She took a deep breath and reminded herself she was an adult before answering.
“Tess Sherman,” she said. She was proud of her professionalism.
“Hello, Tess Sherman,” Deacon said. “You sure left in a hurry this morning.”
“Busy day,” she said, overly cheerful. “It’ll probably be a while before I’m back. Maybe even late tonight. You probably won’t see me again today.”
“Uh, huh,” he said. “Listen—”
“It’s just I’m really busy with all this planning for my future, and what to do once I leave Last Stop. I’ve been sending out my résumé.” Which was a lie, but she was going to make sure to do it as soon as she got back home. She was babbling. She always babbled when she was nervous.
“Listen, Tess—”
“Okay, look. I’ll be honest. I’m attracted to you. And I really like kissing you. I just think the timing is all wrong. I don’t even know much about you. Do you have hobbies, interests, or felony convictions? These are things people should know before they keep kissing like we’ve been kissing.”
“I agree,” he said. “But I—”
“I’m very conflicted. You’re making me crazy. But I really want my bathroom finished, so maybe you could spend some time in there today. And don’t forget your tool belt. Wait, forget I said that last part.”
“Tess!” he finally said, the exasperation clear in his voice.
“What?”
“I just called to tell you you left your purse on top of the car. You probably want to stop and get it.”
Tess’s mouth dropped open, and she felt the hot flush of embarrassment spread across her skin.
“Oh,” she said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Say hi to your grandmother.” He paused for a couple of seconds and then said, “I really like kissing you too.” And then he hung up.
Tess stopped the Suburban right in the middle of the street, got out, and grabbed her purse from the top of the car. Then she got back in and kept driving toward Dallas and the Back Acres Retirement Village.
She pulled into the gated community and waved at the security guard in the little hut. People who lived in the village took turns working at the security gate, and one time when she’d come to visit there was a man there who had to have been at least a hundred years old, wearing his old SWAT clothes and an AK47 slung across his chest.
It hadn’t filled her with loads of confidence, and some of the others must’ve complained as well, because now there was a sign attached to the guardhouse that said all security guards were unarmed.
She passed the hedge sculptures and the big fountain, and pulled in front of the main house, where there was a little grocery store inside, as well as a couple of clothing boutiques, a spa, and a bar. Tess had decided the first time she’d seen the place that retirement looked pretty awesome, and she was going to find a place like Back Acres the minute she was old enough to qualify.
It was 9:47, which meant she was two minutes late. Her grandmother was sitting on one of the little white benches out front, with her hands folded neatly in her lap. She gave Tess a glacial stare and then sighed as she gathered her handbag and stood to her feet.
Tess had gotten her height and willowy frame from her grandmother. Even in her seventies, Tatiana Sherman—Tati to her friends—was striking. She wore long linen pants and a white linen blouse, and she’d used a wide sash for a belt and tied it in a sassy bow at her hip. She wore the same pearls Tess had seen her in every day of her life—pearls given to her by her father when she’d turned sixteen.
She had the bones of royalty—high cheekbones and cat eyes that tilted up slightly at the corners. Her hair was a shock of creamy white that she wore short, curled, and teased. She had as much Texan in her as she had Russian. There were a few fine lines around her mouth and the corners of her eyes, but she’d aged well. She liked to give credit to the vodka, which she drank each night before bed. Tess had been embalming people long enough to know that’s basically what her grandmother had done to herself while living.
Tess got out of the car and went around to open the passenger door and help her in.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, kissing her on each cheek. “I put my purse on top of the car and drove halfway here with it like that.”
“Three minutes, dear. You know if we don’t get there right at ten Debra Lassiter tries to take my chair. That girl has spent her whole life trying to take people’s hard-earned stuff.”
Tess wasn’t sure Debra Lassiter qualified as a girl since she had to be pushing sixty, and she really wasn’t sure how her grandmother had come to the conclusion that the center salon chair at the Clip n’ Curl had been hard-earned. Mostly she’d bullied everyone out of that chair until every woman in town was afraid to sit in it.
“Your mama came and got me a couple of weeks ago for Julie Schleiger’s baby shower. Lord that girl looks like she’s carrying triplets. I’ve never seen cankles like that. Anyway, I saw Debra out in someone’s yard pulling up a sign. She’s got no respect for personal property.”
“She’s a Realtor,” Tess said. “She was probably pulling up one of her ‘For Sale’ signs.”
Her grandmother let out a stream of Russian curses that would’ve made a sailor blush, and Tess just stared straight ahead, pushing down on the accelerator to get back to Last Stop as fast as possible.
“You know it’s a terrible idea to get into the habit of putting your purse on top of the car. I saw a special on 60 Minutes once, and they did a whole segment about these lowlifes that just sit around looking for people driving by with their stuff on top of their car. Before you know it they’ve walked off with your identity and your favorite lipstick.”
Tess saw the Last Stop city limits sign and let out a breath. Her hands were gripped tight on the steering wheel, so she relaxed them and had perfect clarity as to why Theodora religiously swore by her vitamin juice every morning.
The Clip n’ Curl was on Main Street, right smack-dab in the middle of everything, which was just how Theodora liked it. The street was packed with cars, which wasn’t unusual since there were so many businesses on the strip. It was a simple storefront with two large square windows and a glass front door. Someone had painted a summer beach scene on one of the windows, and there was a little display in front with sand and a beach bag filled with hair products. The salon opened right at ten o’clock.
“Look there,” her grandmother said, pointing down the street. “That’s Debra and she’s already got a parking spot. You’re driving like the bus driver at the retirement home. Get a move on, girl.”
Tess felt her blood pressure spike, and the fear of competition took over. It was just like every sporting event she’d ever tried to participate in while at school. She was never as fast or aggressive as all the other competitors, and she could still hear the criticism in perfect Russian as it boomed over the cheering crowds.
She screeched to a halt right in front of the Clip n’ Curl’s doors to avoid the pressure, and she let her grandmother out with only seconds to spare. She saw Debra pick up the pace, but she’d had a hip replacement last year and couldn’t move as fast as Tatiana. Tess unbuckled and
reached over to pull the door closed since her grandmother had left it open in her hurry, and she immediately felt the relief of being alone.
Tess shifted the air vents so they blew on her armpits, and then crept along the street, hoping someone would pull out. She got lucky at the end of the block nearest the courthouse, and somehow managed to squeeze the Suburban into a space that was clearly meant for a much smaller car.
She grabbed her purse from the backseat and had her handle on the door when the door opened for her. Cal Dougherty stared at her through the window, and she let out a quiet sigh, thinking she would’ve been better off all around if she’d pretended to be sick for the day.
“Hello, Cal,” she said, sliding out of the Suburban.
“I figured I’d let you get parked before I tried to get your attention. I could hear you muttering in Russian from the open car door.”
“It’s been that kind of morning.”
“I just wanted to make sure I didn’t freak you out about asking you to dinner yesterday morning.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I always get accused of crimes and hit on at the same time. Story of my life.”
He rolled his eyes and fell into step beside her as she made her way to the Clip n’ Curl. “No one’s accusing you,” he said. “But you’ve got five men working for you that you don’t know a thing about.”
“Six,” she said, thinking of the not-so-dead body who she was assuming would become her employee.
He raised his brows at that. “I’ve run background checks on them.”
“For what?” she asked, horrified. “That’s a violation of their privacy.”
“You’re a single woman with five . . . six . . . very dangerous-looking men living right under your nose. I wouldn’t be looking out for you if I didn’t do some checking.”
“It’s still rude,” she said, even though his thoughtfulness went a little ways in helping repair the damage of his accusations the day before. “But I appreciate you thinking of me.” She paused again and pursed her lips before asking, “So . . . did you find out anything?”
He grinned and shook his head. “Nope, clean as a whistle, every one of them. Too clean if you ask me. But I don’t want to start digging and get in over my head. I can tell you with certainty they’re skilled. I can recognize men who are trained to fight.”
“And why would you be able to recognize men like that?” she asked.
He just smiled again and said, “I wasn’t always sheriff. Do you mind if I head over to your place and check the transport van? I’m assuming it’s back?”
The change in subject threw her off guard and she stopped in her tracks. “Cal Dougherty, I thought you said you weren’t accusing me? I take back all those nice things I was thinking about you just now.”
“Nice enough to go to dinner with me?”
She narrowed her eyes at him and his smile widened.
“I don’t know why the men I know think it’s so gosh-darned funny when I get mad. But no, I won’t go to dinner with you. Ever. Unless it’s potluck at the church, and then I guess I won’t be able to help it, but it doesn’t count because there will be lots of people around.”
She was babbling again. It was the first time in her life she was actually anxious to get inside the Clip n’ Curl.
“That’s harsh. But probably best. I’ve got dinner plans tonight anyway. I don’t think she’d be into a trio.”
Tess’s mouth dropped open and she shook her head. “Help yourself to the van. I’m sure one of the guys can let you in if the door is closed. And stop running background checks on my employees. They’re all very nice men who don’t accuse men of crimes and try to double book me for dinner. Don’t be a cad, Cal.”
He winked and shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that’s why Victoria divorced me. Catch you later.”
He strolled in the opposite direction, toward the funeral home, and she realized she was standing right in front of the Clip n’ Curl. Several pairs of eyes inside were staring straight at her.
“Well, this will be fun,” she said in Russian and opened the door.
“He’d be an excellent choice for you, Tess,” her mother said by way of greeting. “He seems very stable. Though I’ve heard he’s not the most endowed, if you get my drift.” Theodora waggled her eyebrows and pointed to her privates.
“Very subtle, Mama. I think everyone gets the drift.”
Theodora was dressed in head-to-toe black, like she normally wore when she was cutting hair. She had a chain belt around her hips, and she was wearing a pair of leopard-print ballet slippers. Seeing mother and daughter standing next to each other was one of those WTF moments. They couldn’t have looked or acted more different.
“You’re looking a bit peaked today, Tess. I’ve got some of my vitamin juice in the fridge if you want some.”
Tess thought it over for a second or two, tempted, but she declined. “I’ll stick with coffee.”
She poured a cup from the pot and doctored it up, and then took her place on the stool behind the counter. Taking the money and booking appointments kept her busy for the next hour and a half.
Besides her mother and grandmother, there was Debra Lassiter, in the chair next to her grandmother, looking sour, probably over the fact that Tatiana had beat her inside. Though if it bothered her so much, Tess wasn’t sure why she kept booking her appointments on Fridays, when everyone in town knew Tatiana always had her hair done on Fridays at ten o’clock. Debra was round, and there was no differentiation between her head and her neck. But she wore bright red lipstick with confidence, and she was sucking down one of Theodora’s vitamin juices, so Tess had a feeling she’d be pretty relaxed before long.
Twenty-year-old Crystal Rose sat behind the nail counter on the other side of the salon, waiting for her first customer. Theodora hated doing nails, but she hated Hard As Nails, which was two shops down, to get business she could steal a piece of the pie from. So she’d hired Crystal fresh out of beauty school.
Crystal’s parents were Bobby and Lynette Rose, and Bobby owned the mechanic shop a couple of blocks over. They were good, blue-collar people who worked hard and went to church the occasional Sunday. So it was a little disconcerting to see the three of them together, since Crystal was more suited to the Addams Family.
Her jet-black hair was shaved to the scalp on one side of her head, and she’d dyed the other side a bright blue. She had piercings in both eyebrows, her nose, and her lip, and she had circles in both her earlobes big enough to throw darts through. From a conversation that had taken place at the Clip n’ Curl after Crystal had started working there, Tess also knew she had her nipples pierced and she’d tried having her clit pierced, but it had hurt so bad she ended up throwing up on the piercer, and she’d had to pull the needle out herself because he was so pissed.
Her eye makeup was dark, and her lipstick was black. In a place like Last Stop, when Crystal Rose walked down the street, people stopped to stare. She might look like a freak, but she did a mean set of nails.
“I’m just saying,” Theodora continued. “You could do a lot worse than Cal Dougherty. And you’re not getting any younger. I know women are waiting longer to get married these days, but you’ve got to think about your eggs. There’s a shelf life on those babies.”
“Nonsense,” her grandmother said. “I was almost forty when I had you, and I breezed through pregnancy and delivery. I was out of bed and working the next day. Age makes you tougher. Your memories are clouded because you got pregnant with Tess so young. You didn’t have any fortitude. Never did I hear such wailing and complaining while you were giving birth.”
“She was breech, Mama. It fucking hurt.”
“Kiska,” Tatiana said with a snort of derision.
Tess’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. It wasn’t often one heard one’s grandmother call someone a pussy. Much less if that someone was her own daughter.
Fortunately, the little bells above the door chimed as Jo Beth Schriever and Carol Dew
berry walked in.
“Sorry I’m late,” Carol said. “I was picking up my prescriptions at the Drug Mart, and I wasn’t sure I was going to make it out of there alive. Mavis Beaman was in there.”
There were several sympathetic groans that accompanied the news. Tess waited while Carol put her purse in one of the cubbies, grabbed one of Theodora’s special vitamin juices, and sat down across from Crystal at the nail table.
“What can I do for you today, Jo Beth?” Theodora said. “I don’t have you in the appointment book. Did I forget to put you down?”
“Oh, no,” Jo Beth said a little breathlessly. But that’s how Jo Beth did everything. Like she full-out sprinted everywhere she went and could never quite catch her breath. She’d worked at the post office since she’d graduated high school about twenty years before. She was a mousy woman with forgettable brown hair, brown eyes, and thin lips.
But Tess knew a side of Jo Beth most people didn’t get to see. They’d once attended a bachelorette party together, and after three or four Slippery Nipple shots, Jo Beth had given one of the strippers a lap dance instead of the other way around. She’d also ridden a mechanical bull and made out with a waitress name Lucille, so it was hard for Tess to see Jo Beth back in her normal habitat.
Jo Beth’s eyes got wide when she saw Tess sitting behind the counter. “Umm . . . Hi, Tess.” And then she looked back at Theodora. “I was going to see if you could squeeze me in. Aunt Delores’s funeral is tomorrow.”
“If you don’t mind waiting a little while, I can squeeze you in,” Theodora said.
“I appreciate it. I was real close to Aunt Delores. She and I had a lot in common.”
Tess wanted to ask if Delores had also been fond of giving lap dances, but instead asked Carol, “What’s wrong with Mavis Beaman? I haven’t seen her in years. I thought she’d moved.”
“She’s been going through the longest menopause in history,” Carol said, rolling her eyes. “She was in the pharmacy line waiting for her hormones and started having hot flashes. She stripped her shirt off right there in front of everyone, and then she burst into tears because Wally McAlpin screamed out loud at the sight of her. You know how excitable he can get.”
