One of Us Is Dead(45)

Dean, Mark, and I ignored Shannon again, while Jenny engaged her in a side conversation. Crystal was still acting like a fly on the wall, quiet and observing.

“We can discuss this at another time, Olivia,” Mark said with a small smile.

I nodded.

Dean looked at Mark and then at me and then at Mark and then back at me. The vein in his forehead throbbed. His face reddened. “Why don’t you both fuck off.”

“Already did,” Mark said under his breath. I just barely heard it, but no one else did. Mark was getting ballsy. He was never like this. What had gotten into him?

“What did you just say?” Dean spat as he stood from his chair. “Say what you said to my face.” He closed the distance between himself and Mark. Dean was always such a hothead, like an alarm on a fancy car, prone to going off with even the slightest of unwanted attention.

Crystal’s eyes widened as she scrambled in her seat, grabbing her phone from her purse. It was the first time she had moved since Dean had arrived. She typed vigorously into it, and I thought for sure she was dialing the police, but her fingers tapped repeatedly. She must be texting, using her phone as an escape from the physical world, or she was trying to get the hell out of here.

“That’s enough!” Shannon shrieked. She jumped from her chair and threw her hands on her hips. “You are not doing this in here!”

Jenny joined her by her side. “If you two are going to fight, you can leave.” Her voice was shaky.

Mark threw his hands up in an I-give-up kind of way. Dean seethed and stood there for a moment. It seemed like he was deciding whether he wanted to stay or he wanted to use Mark as a punching bag for all his frustration. He returned to his chair, slammed his beer, and took a deep breath.

“Good. Glad that’s settled,” Shannon said. “Would you mind giving me a trim, Jenny?”

Jenny nodded. Shannon took a seat at a hair station, and they began quietly talking again, while Jenny pulled out a pair of scissors and a comb.

I returned my attention to Dean. Something was eating at him. I wasn’t sure what, but he was off. His issue was bigger than Mark’s small quips or the drama surrounding me and the girls, and I was determined to find out what that was.





36

Shannon


Jenny took a pair of scissors to my hair and neatly began dry cutting the ends. She combed out small sections, sliding them through her fingers, and slowly cut, careful to only trim off a half an inch. She was so meticulous about everything she did. I noticed she was concentrating extra hard, like her mind wasn’t really here.

“This event is a disaster,” Jenny quietly confided in me. I looked in the mirror at Olivia, Dean, Crystal, and Mark. They couldn’t seem to hear us over the chatter from the manicurists, most of whom were packing up. Two of them were finishing up with Dean and Mark’s manicures. Crystal’s head was buried in her phone. Dean, Mark, and Olivia were embroiled in a heated exchange of indignant looks.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it. It is, but it’s not your fault.” I gave Jenny a look of understanding in the mirror.

“I don’t seem to have control of this place anymore,” she said, glancing over to make sure no one could hear her. Her forehead was wrinkled, eyebrows pinched together, shoulders tight, and lips pursed. “I feel like I lost it during the break-in.”

“You do have control, Jenny, and you didn’t lose anything. Your salon is still here, and so are we.” I smiled. “If you ever need anything, and I mean anything, just let me know.” She looked at me in the mirror and gave the smallest smile back. She was still tense and overly focused, so I know my words didn’t get through to her. It was obvious Jenny was still hurting, but I didn’t press it.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Anytime.”

The front door chimed again.

“Shit.” Crystal got up from her chair. “Thanks, Jenny. I’ll call to make an appointment tomorrow.” She walked quickly toward the curtains, but it was too late. Bryce walked in wearing a navy-blue suit and a jack-off smile.

“Great,” I said, sarcastically. Jenny squeezed my shoulder in a comforting way. She pulled the cape from me, signaling the haircut was finished.

“Let’s go, Bryce. I told you to text me when you were here.” Crystal grabbed his hand and tried to pull him out of the salon.

“Hold on a sec, babe. Since when do the men crash the women’s manicure party?” Bryce chuckled. He took a couple steps into the salon, stopping right in front of Olivia, Dean, and Mark. Crystal let out a huff of annoyance.

“Nothing wrong with taking care of your hands and nails. These bad boys need to be well taken care of. They’re like God’s hands, sculpting the human body to perfection.” Mark held them out and admired his hands in the most arrogant way.

“You’re comparing your botched tit jobs to God’s work now?” Dean belly laughed, clearly pleased with his comment.

“Your wife sure likes hers,” Mark quipped.

The vein in Dean’s forehead made an appearance again and his face reddened. These men were buffoons. How could I have ever been so hung up on someone like them?

“Now, now guys. It seems you two have been hanging with the ladies a little too long,” Bryce said, gesturing toward Olivia, Jenny, and me. “We’re men, not a bunch of females with too much time on our hands.” He laughed heartily.