Rome's Chance (Reapers MC #6.6)(20)

“I look a hell of a lot better than I did last night,” I told her grimly. “And don’t worry—it’s not like I’ll see him again. Even if I get that job and move back, I don’t see us dating. He’s not my type.”

“Do you really think you’ll move back?” she asked, jumping on the comment. For an instant, I caught a hint of vulnerability. Then it was gone again and she sniffed. “Not that I care.”

“I don’t know,” I replied slowly, not wanting to get up her hopes. “Depends on whether they make me an offer. I can’t afford to move without work lined up.”

“Well, obviously,” she said, looking away. Silence fell for a few seconds. Then she added, “You know, makeup will never cover that bruise. Maybe we can fix your hair so it hangs down over it a little. How do you feel about bangs?”

“I haven’t had bangs since I was five years old.”

Lexi turned to her battered vanity and started digging through the top drawer. After a minute she spun back to me, brandishing a shiny pair of scissors. Good scissors. The kind they use in salons.

“Come sit down,” she said. “I’ll fix this.”

“There is no way on earth I’m letting you chop off my hair.”

“Why not? I cut Mom and Kayden’s,” she replied. That caught my attention, because Mom actually had a pretty good cut. Kayden’s was decent, too.

“Where did you learn to cut hair?” I asked.

“My friend Kristin’s mom has a salon set up in their basement,” she said. “I like to hang out there sometimes. She showed me some techniques, and then I started practicing on one of those dummies they use at beauty schools. I’m good at it. My plan is, I’ll enroll in a cosmetology program and get my license. Then I’ll be able to support me and Kayden no matter what. I just haven’t figured out what to do with him while I’m at school.”

Familiar guilt hit.

Until three years ago, I’d been the one taking care of them. Then Mom went on disability and moved back to Hallies Falls. I’d decided to make my own life instead of following her.

“Okay, you can cut my hair,” I said, accepting her peace offering. Hopefully I wasn’t making a huge mistake. Lexi gave a quick smile, and I could tell she was excited, even if she didn’t want to show it. At least she wasn’t pissed off about Rome any more. “Just don’t make me look worse for the reunion.”

“Sis, don’t take this wrong, but there’s no way I could make you look worse.”

I sighed and studied my reflection in the mirror. Lexi was right. My eye had turned a dark purple, shot through with blacks, browns, and just a hint of yellow in one corner. There was a bright red scrape on my forehead, too. One I hadn’t noticed.

Lovely.

“Maybe I’ll just skip the reunion,” I said slowly.

“Let’s see what I can do first,” she insisted. “We’ll give you a long fringe to hang over it. You can do that goth thing, where you only show one eye. It’ll be… well, I was going to say cute, but I think tolerable is probably the best we’re gonna get.”

I sat down on the little stool in front of the table, catching her gaze in the mirror. “You know, it’s always been my dream to be tolerable.”

“At least you dream bigger than Mom.”




I had to give Lexi credit—my hair turned out more than tolerable. It wasn’t my regular style and I couldn’t see keeping it long term, but most of the bruise was covered.

Our mother slept in, giving us plenty of time to finish the haircut and explain the bruises to Kayden. He got an edited version, of course. Someone had run into me and I’d fallen down. Accidents happen.

He’d taken it at face value with a sort of oblivious, blind faith that I never remembered having as a child.

Mom was less impressed with my explanation. She wasn’t feeling so good when she woke up at ten, so she’d decided to stay in bed. I’d poured a cup of coffee as a peace offering before slipping into her bedroom. Lexi followed me. I wasn’t sure if this was for moral support, or because she didn’t want to miss the show when Mom exploded. Either way, I was happy for the company.

“Men who get in fights are no good,” my mother declared when I’d finished my story. “You should’ve come home once you got back to town. We could’ve handled the black eye, but now everyone will think you’re a slut. Those bikers talk to each other. He’ll tell them you’re easy.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, startled. “You used to sleep around all the time, Mom. You have five kids with four dads.”

“That’s my point,” she said. “I know what I’m talking about.”

She lifted her Zippo to a little glass pipe and inhaled deeply, managing to hold the smoke for maybe fifteen seconds before the coughing started.

“You gotta stop smoking that crap,” I told her, feeling pissy. “People with asthma can’t smoke pot. You know better.”

“Need it for my back,” she insisted. “I have my inhalers and my nebulizer if I need them.”

“Bullshit,” Lexi said, rolling her eyes. “If this was about the pain, you could use the edible stuff. Of course, if you keep smoking that shit you’ll die during an asthma attack—that’ll take care of the pain once and for all.”