The guy, Jimothy, had looked so freaked. No, wounded. He’d looked wounded. Because of me. I did that to a sweet, beautiful guy who only wanted to help me and—
Fuck it. He’ll get over it.
Rick cranked the ignition, squealed out of his parking space, and hit the street to home. What did I think, going to somebody’s “look”? Good God, Theodore could mind his own fucking business. I’ll find a barber shop and tell him to buzz the fucker.
Jimothy stared at the door.
Felicia walked out from the back room. “What just happened?”
“I-I think he hated me.” He wiped at his cheek.
Hands on her hips, she stepped in front of him so he had to stretch to look over her head. Felicia was tall. “He most emphatically didn’t hate you.”
“Yes, he did.” Jimothy sniffed. “Because I’m gay. He hated me for being a screaming queen.”
She clasped his shoulders. “If that happened to be true, then I’d say good riddance to the asshole, but I don’t think so.”
Jimothy blinked. “Then maybe he hated me p-personally?”
“That’s silly. You were nothing but nice. You didn’t even shrink away from his stupid mountain-man hair.”
Jimothy shrugged.
“Come on, why doesn’t it occur to you that he was so enamored with your charms that he had to run away to escape his overwhelming attraction.”
Jimothy stared at her—and burst out laughing. “As if.”
She shrugged. “Could happen.”
“Right. That hairy behemoth has spent his whole testosterone-ridden alpha-male life lusting after the likes of little old me.” Jimothy pranced in a circle, swinging his hips, and Felicia laughed—just as he’d planned.
“Fuck him. You’ve got your next customer in thirty minutes.” She grasped his shoulder. “You know, one of those many, many people who appreciate the hell out of your cute ass.”
“Right. I’ll go freshen up.” Smiling, he hurried to the bathroom, closed the door after him, and collapsed on the toilet seat, letting his head fall into his hand. It didn’t happen often. His success had allowed him to create a bubble full of people who liked and accepted him. Even his dad, Jim, had finally been proud of Jimothy even if he’d always wished he was more butch. But this guy. Why would Theodore send someone like that to Jimothy? Was it a joke? If so, it was damned cruel.
With a long inhale through his nose, he stood, sprinkled some water on a paper towel, and applied it to his hot cheeks, then washed his hands, and exited to his next customer. Like Felicia said, the people who liked him.
Rick’s the-client-can-mind-his-own-business attitude lasted all the way to the following morning when his head of hair felt pretty heavy. He’d even tried to cover it with a cap, but the mane was too much for anything except maybe a turban. Fuck. He marched down the wide stairs in the front garden to the door and let himself into Theodore and Snake’s house, then scooted into the office super-fast and started working on the shelves lining the whole inside of the walk-in closet where Snake could store his books and materials.
The front door opened and closed. Maybe Theodore left already? But no, Fred stuck his head in the closet. “Hey, man, I—what the fuck? I thought you were getting your hair cut.”
“Uh, I changed my mind.”
“Good man. Don’t let those females push you around.” Fred left the closet and hammering started in the office.
Sadly, Fred’s praise only pointed to the fact that the one who’d be most disappointed about the hair was Alice, the last person he wanted to let down. Rick pulled his phone from his pocket and searched, barber shops, Costa Mesa, CA. A couple names came up, and he called the first one.
A man answered, “Henry’s.”
“Uh yeah, is this the barber shop?”
“Yes. Henry’s.”
“Can I make an appointment?”
“No. We’re walk-in only.”
“Oh, good. Okay. I’ll be there after five today.”
“We close at five thirty.”
“Then I’ll get there earlier.” He hung up and picked up a nail. He’d tell them to—what? Shave his head and trim his beard? That was a look, right? He snorted at his choice of word. Or a crew cut? What the hell would that look like? Jesus, he might resemble some retired marine or something. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but—shit, he wanted to ask Jimothy.
“You didn’t like my suggestion, I hear.”
Rick looked up so fast at Theodore’s voice he almost fell off the ladder. Theodore stood inside the closet entrance with his arms crossed and a not-very-happy expression. It actually looked strange on his sweet face.
“Uh, no, I liked it fine.” Oh, Rick, you chicken shit. “I mean, I realized when I got in there that I wasn’t ready. I mean, I hadn’t thought about what I wanted to do with this.” He held out a strand of his hair. “And Jimothy was asking me questions, and I didn’t know how to answer and—” He ran out of excuses.
Theodore waved a hand. “It’s okay, Rick. You don’t owe me any explanations. I mean, Snake told me to butt out, and I should’ve listened. Jimothy’s a really nice man, and I certainly didn’t mean to offend him. I apologize for meddling.” With that, he turned and walked away.
Rick stared at the spot where Theodore had stood. What did he mean about offending Jimothy? Double fuck.
“Night, dear. You sure you want to lock up?” Jimothy peered at Felicia who waved a hand.
“No problem. I want to check a couple things on the computer before I go.”
“Shall I wait with you? Want to go to dinner? I only have to drop Princess Leia off at home.” He held out the carrier that housed the traveling salon cat.
Felicia walked to the front of the salon and stared Jimothy in the eye. “For once, tell me what you want to do.”
“I always enjoy going to dinner with you.” He smiled.
“But you’re tired and want to go home and put your feet up, right?”
He sighed. “Right.” Sadly, it was true. The last two days had taken it out of him way more than usual.
She patted his cheek. “Go home and find my happy Jimothy, okay? Dwell on how delighted Mrs. Herrera was with her new haircut. She looked fantastic, sweetie. No one would ever dream she’d lost all her hair. And all your clients today were delighted. You make people happy. Remember that.”
He nodded and grinned. Nothing could take the glow off her smile. “I will. I do.” He kissed Felicia’s cheek, hefted the carrier, and left the salon. The click signaled that Felicia had locked the door behind him.
Exhaling long and slow, he carried Leia around the corner toward the small private lot where his staff parked their cars in the midst of crowded Laguna Beach.
“Excuse me, Jimothy?”
Jimothy startled. “What?”
Rick stepped away from the wall and held his hands out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I just didn’t want to come to the, uh …”
If Jimothy had been a cat, all his fur would have been standing on end. “Salon? The word’s salon. And I don’t scare easily.” Frowning, Jimothy stared at his sparkly sneakers and gritted his teeth. “What can I do for you, Mr. Ronconi?”