Children of Vice (Children of Vice #1)(75)

“When was this?” I whispered, looking at each picture on the corner of the mirror.

“Ethan started working in my shop when I lived in Chicago. He was twelve,” Giovanni said, now standing beside me, looking at the pictures with pure pride. “He wasn’t anything but a sweeper when he first got started.”

“And in no time I had more regulars than you,” Ethan said, walking around to the other side of the chair and taking off his leather jacket, picking up a gray button-down uniform shirt. His name was also stitched onto it.

“The bitter part of me wants to blame it on your last name.” Giovanni huffed angrily. “Of course people would want to get their hair cut by a Callahan…”

“But my skills spoke for themselves,” Ethan said, pulling out a box filled with barber tools that shined beautifully.

“Humility goes a long way, boy,” Giovanni replied.

“Humility is not in the Callahan dictionary,” I said, laughing. This was amazing. Who would have ever thought Mr. Richie-Rich, silver spoon-fed Ethan had a part-time job growing up?

“Aww, true.” Giovanni nodded, looking at me. “It would help too if they were bad at some things. Did your husband not tell you he’s my greatest student?”

“Auhmmm!”

We both turned, and it was only then that I realized how packed the barbershop was. A few men and even young boys sat waiting on the benches by the wooden wall. They were all eyeing Ethan as he set up. However, the one who’d fake coughed loudly was a man about my height with brown hair that was faded on the sides but thicker and smoothed back on top. He looked up at us from the sideburns he was shaping up.

“And here I thought I was your greatest student, pa,” he said.

“He meant the greatest student he didn’t teach, Marco,” Ethan said, cleaning off his blades. “Didn’t you, Giovanni?”

Giovanni groaned. “I forgot you were a smartass. I might have guided your hands, but you still learned from watching me, didn’t you? Hmh…speaking like you just woke up a barber one morning.” He caused both Marco and Ethan to snicker.

“Good to you have back, Ethan, now help us get rich too.” Marco laughed, nodding to the line of people waiting.

“How rich we talkin’?” Ethan turned his chair.

“Very,” both Marco and Giovanni said at the same time.

“Greedy bastards,” Ethan muttered, though I could tell he was enjoying it.

“So be it,” Giovanni said, walking back to his chair and his very, very patient client apparently. “Gabby, bring out a stool for Mrs. Callahan! And say hello to your godfather!”

He shouted, and a young girl, no older than eight or nine, with curly blond hair, stuck her head out from behind the door of the shop. Her hazel eyes stared at me and then she turned to Ethan. A huge grin spread across her face as she burst out of the doors fully and hugged him.

“Uncle Ethan!”

“She’s still a hugger, I see,” Ethan said to Marco.

Marco frowned. “Only to you, it seems. No loyalty, that one.”

“I haven’t seen Uncle Ethan in forever!” She squeezed tighter, and Ethan raised his arms, staring down at her.

“Is that why your Christmas list gets so bloody long every year?” he asked her.

She flashed her teeth at him, one of them missing on the bottom. “Yep!”

“So now that you’ve seen and hugged me near death, you won’t need anything this year.”

Her hands dropped along with her smile and all the men within the barbershop laughed as she looked heartbroken.

“Uncle, you’re mean.” She pouted.

“So I’ve been told.” He put his hand on her and turned her until she was facing me. “Luckily my wife is much nicer. Send her your lists from now on and she’ll handle it.”

“REALLY?” She brushed Ethan’s hands off and walked over to me. “Hold on, Aunty, let me get you a chair.” She rushed behind the curtains.

“You’re right. No loyalty at all.” Ethan shook his head, staring at where she had disappeared behind the doors.

“Here, Aunty.” Gabby put the black padded stool just off to the side of Ethan as he called up a boy who looked about twelve. He took off his baseball hat when he sat on the chair.

“Thanks, Gabby,” I said to her, sitting down.

“You’re welcome—”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Marco pointed at her. “No gift-getting, or wish-making until I see that C-morph into an A.”

Gabby pulled out a piece of paper, lifted it up, and showed how if you turned a ‘C’ onto its side and put the ‘-’ inside it made an A.

I laughed so hard my sides hurt.

“Did you just forge your grades in front of me?” Marco asked her.

“No.” She hid the paper behind her back. “You didn’t say that a C-needed to be an A for me to make wishes.”

“She’s right,” Ethan replied, placing a white strip around the boy’s neck.

Marco sighed. “Just go.”

“We’ll talk later,” Gabby mouthed to me, and I nodded to her.

“Go!”

“I’m going!” She groaned, making a show of having to go back.