“Bet you don’t tell her how to wear her hair.” Fred was a logical ally to Rick since he sported a beard to the middle of his chest. Rick’s only made it to his collarbone.
Rick snarled, “Damned right.” He paused, then said with great resolution, “But this time, I promised Alice.”
Theodore knew almost nothing about Rick, but he’d gathered from the fact that the only time Rick smiled was when he got a call from his little sister Alice, that she qualified as special in his eyes. Apparently, someone worthy of a big sacrifice.
Fred chuckled. “Where ya gonna do the deed?”
“Don’t know. I gotta find a barber shop in Costa Mesa.”
Fred laughed. “Want me to get you drunk first?”
Rick snorted, and the hammering resumed.
Andy nudged close to Theodore and whispered, “Wow, he’s gonna defur. That’ll be amazing. Better take a picture.”
Theodore laughed, and ten minutes later, balancing a large tray with Andy behind him carrying his own plate, they made their way back to the master suite, aka their current living space, since the rest of the house was uninhabitable.
Inside, Theodore set the tray on the big coffee table they were all using as dining space, homework space, and much more. Fortunately, their master suite was huge, so they weren’t claustrophobic. All the house was being built on the considerable income of the renowned Crystal Streams, bestselling romance writer extraordinaire, and the alter ego of the tatted and pierced Snake.
As they settled down to breakfast, Andy said, “Snake, guess what? Rick’s gonna cut off his beard and his hair. Or that’s what we heard.”
Snake chewed his eggs and nodded. “I see, we have a family obsession with shearing Rick Ronconi.”
Andy giggled. “I bet it’s like Samson. Cut off all that hair and he won’t be able to lift a hammer.”
Theodore stared into space. “But if he goes to some butcher barber shop, he’ll come out looking worse than when he went in.”
“Big Foot!” Andy waved his scone.
Theodore frowned. “Be nice.” But he kept staring out the huge windows at the ocean.
“Sorry.” Andy didn’t look very sorry as he grabbed one of his action figures from the couch and lumbered it along the table like a yeti.
Snake chewed his cranberry-orange scone and stared at Theodore. “Uh, excuse me, Professor, what exactly are you cooking up?”
Theodore blinked with as much innocence as he could muster. “Remember that time when we were first getting together and I came to the bar with Mary and Burt, and they’d fixed me up with—”
“The guy with a weird name, right?”
“Um-hm.” Theodore moved the last of the egg on his plate around with his fork. “Jimothy.”
“Right. How could I have forgotten?” Snake hadn’t been pleased that Theodore had arrived at Snake’s bar with a blind date. He’d quickly given Theodore lots of reasons not to buy anything a blind date might be selling.
“Well, I never mentioned that Jimothy happens to be a hairdresser. In fact, I think he has his own hairdressing business.” A smile was slowly spreading itself across his lips. The more he thought of the idea, the more he liked it.
Snake narrowed his eyes. “Oh no, cool the meddling, Teddy Bear.”
Enthusiasm bubbled through Theodore’s veins. “And the other thing that’s notable about Jimothy is he’s one of the happiest, most optimistic people I ever met.” Theodore waved a hand. “Hell, he’s even more optimistic than me.” Theodore clapped his hands together and laughed because that was what Jimothy did. “It’s very clear to me that what Rick Ronconi needs is a big dose of Jimothy!”
Chapter Three
Jimothy Castlemane wiped his cheek as he put the last ornament in the box.
Felicia, his right hand and BFF, grabbed the decoration container and handed it to Antonio, who scurried toward the back room. “Okay, darling, enough reminiscing over every icicle strand. You’ve got three new customers coming in you need to review.”
“But I hate to see the decorations disappear into their boxes.” He sniffed and blew gently into a tissue. He hated to say goodbye to the holidays. The streets of Laguna sparkled, people were so nice to each other, and he got to invent his wildest and most awe-inspiring hairstyles for the cream of Orange County society. But most of all, his dad, Jim, had loved the holidays so much. Jimothy and his other dad, Timothy, had cried some on Christmas, remembering how Jim had loved putting every speck of snow on the Christmas village and every decoration on the tree. Plain old January seemed dull by comparison.
“Meew.” Leia, slim, white with black ears, and his “salon” cat, although she went home with him at night, padded to him and plopped on his lap where he sat on the floor next to the denuded Christmas tree.
Jimothy scratched under her chin. “Right, you understand, don’t you, my baby? You hate to see the fun times end, too, right?”
Felicia made a huffing sound. “She hates to see the turkey slices end.” She pulled on his arm, dislodging Leia, who stepped to the floor with a righteous flick of her tail and stalked into the area where they kept the dryers and the processing machines. One of the early customers cooed at her and Leia jumped on her lap. Felicia said more seriously, “Mrs. Herrera’s coming in tomorrow. She’s growing her hair out after chemo, and all her friends told her she could only go to Jimothy for her first styling.”
Picking himself up off the floor, Jimothy clapped his hands together. “I love that. That’s so wonderful.”
Felicia grinned. “I knew you would.”
“That makes things so much better.” He wiped the seat of his pink jeans. “Who else? Did you say three?”
“Remember the woman who came in for a consultation before the holidays, Esther Jayne?”
“Oh yes, with the red hair.”
“Well, she decided to go to a hairdresser she knew for the holidays.”
“That makes sense. You don’t want to experiment with weddings or fancy parties.”
Felicia barked a laugh. “She hated the guy, was dismally disappointed she couldn’t get in to see you at the last moment, and now wants to rectify the situation. Apparently, it’s a mess.”
Jimothy thumbed through a new hairstyling magazine that was lying on the table near the wall. “We’ll do our best for her.”
Felicia shook her head. “Only you could not gloat even a little. I swear, you’re the only person I know with no schadenfreude.”
He shrugged. “Who’s number three?”
“Your friend Mary called and said her pal Theodore knew someone who desperately needs your touch. I figured since she was a friend, I should work this guy in, so I did. I hope that’s okay. It crowds your day.”
“No, no, that was the right thing to do. I wouldn’t want to disappoint, uh, Mary.” Jimothy sighed softly. Theodore. What a charmer.
“Ooooh, I don’t think that smile’s for Mary, so I’m going to assume there’s something about this Theodore I should know.”
“Not really.” He lifted his shoulders and dropped them. “It was a blind date, and he was already in love with someone else, although Mary didn’t know that when she fixed us up. Remember when that big story appeared about the famous romance writer who’s really a tattooed biker?”