Color Me Bad: A Novella (7 page)

CHAPTER 4

Howard Franklin typed in the bit of info into his computer and hit Send, then leaned back in his chair and rubbed his belly. He was hungry and there wasn’t a leftover in the house. It was almost time for Willa Dean to come home from her luncheon. Maybe she would bring leftovers, which she sometimes did.

He didn’t know what was going on with her, but he guessed it had something to do with Patty June Clymer. Every man in town knew the women were up in arms on behalf of the preacher’s wife, and the men were all treading easy, hoping the mass indignation soon passed.

He liked his life. He liked selling insurance, and he liked being married to Willa Dean. He had a few fantasies on the side that he indulged in now and then, but they were harmless. Certainly nothing like what Conrad Clymer had done. Still, he lived with a measure of both fear and guilt that Willa Dean might find out.

He got up to get himself a snack and, as he did, heard the front door slam. Willa Dean must be home. He walked out into the hall to meet her, but she sailed right past him, carrying her things into the kitchen. He followed, talking as he went.

“So how did the luncheon go? Did everyone make up and play nice?”

Willa Dean set her dirty dishes in the sink and then turned on him like a scalded cat.

“You’re a fine one to talk about makeup and play acting.”

The moment she said it, she wished she could take it back, but it was too late. She saw the shock on his face, and then fear.

“What do you mean?”

She sighed. His voice was shaking. Poor Harold. But then her instinct for survival kicked in. Poor Willa Dean, too.

“Do you really want to have this conversation?” she asked.

Harold felt sick. She knew! He didn’t know how it had happened, but she knew, which suddenly explained the move into the spare bedroom.

“Are you going to divorce me, too?” he whispered.

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have moved my things. You can rest assured your secret is safe. I don’t want anyone knowing this any more than you do.”

“I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just something I like to do now and then.”

“Yes, well, I bought a vibrator. If you hear it buzzing in my bedroom, you will know I, too, am enjoying a thing I like to do now and then. You will also leave my makeup and underwear the hell alone. It costs a fortune. If you want to play dress up, buy your own. Do you hear me, Harold Wayne?”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry, Willa Dean. It’s nothing against you. I love you.”

She sighed. “I suppose that you do. Unfortunately, I may never get over the sight of your fat butt in my panties.”

“Oh lord,” he muttered, and sat down with a thump. “I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

She wanted to stay angry, but she was beginning to feel sorry for him.

“Not everything,” she said. “I’m still here. We’ll just have to see how it goes. Oddly enough, there is a bit of good that has come out of all this.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“I don’t have to pretend I’m done having sex when you are anymore. That vibrator lasts as long as I do, which is a hell of a lot longer than your pitiful forty-five seconds.”

He glared. “You never complained before.”

“That’s because you weigh two hundred and forty-five pounds and I couldn’t breathe.”

“Well seriously, Willa Dean. This is a hell of a time to be complaining. We’ve been married for twenty-three years and you never said a word.”

“Look at it this way, Harold. You had twenty-three years of wedded bliss before I blew your cover, so the next twenty-three are mine. We’re married. I’ll keep your secret and you can keep mine.”

His thoughts were racing. She hadn’t blown her top and she was still here. It was way better than he would have imagined.

“I guess I can live with that,” he mumbled.

“Good. I’m going to change clothes and then get back to the agency.”

“Did you bring any leftovers?”

“No.”

“I guess I could heat up a can of soup.”

“Look at it this way, Harold. You can do anything you want to now, so knock yourself out. I’m going back to work.”

He watched her stride out of the kitchen with her chin up and her shoulders back. He’d escaped public shame by less than a pubic hair and he knew it. The next time he went into Savannah he’d do a little shopping, something more in his size and style. In the meantime, he could certainly refrain from indulging himself in his little fantasies until the waters had calmed, so to speak.

•••

The following Tuesday, Ruby came in extra early to open The Curl Up and Dye. The beginning of her workweek wasn’t usually all that busy, but she had four haircuts this morning and a root touch-up and a permanent this afternoon. It made her back ache just thinking about how long she would be on her feet.

She was taking a load of towels out of the dryer when she caught movement out on the street. Alma Button was driving a new car. She knew the story behind the requests for new hairdos and new jewelry showing up on her customers’ hands and wondered what Alma’s husband had done that warranted buying Alma a new car. Whatever it was, Ruby just hoped none of the ramifications of their problems leaked into The Curl Up and Dye. She had enough on her hands without turning her shop into a version of
The
Jerry
Springer
Show
.

THE END

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LilyAnn Bronte never has recaptured the glory of high school, when she was Peachy Keen Queen and sought after by the coolest guy in Blessings, Georgia. Those days are long past, and when a new guy arrives in town, LilyAnn embarks on a quest to remake herself from start to finish, with a little help from The Curl Up and Dye.

Ruby eyed the young woman, watching the way Lily looked everywhere but in the mirror at herself. If only there was a way to get her out of the rut she was in.

Ruby’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she combed some styling gel into Lily’s wet hair and then reached for the blow dryer.

“I don’t suppose you’re interested in a new hairstyle?” Ruby asked.

Lily frowned. “I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

“No matter. One of these days we’ll figure something out,” Ruby said.

Her thumb was on the Power button when they all heard the sound of a hot rod passing by. Whatever the driver had done to that engine, it rumbled like a stereo with the bass set on high.

Lily’s eyes widened. It had to be the driver with the truck like Randy Joe’s. She swiveled her chair around so fast to get a look that Ruby got the round brush tangled up in her hair.

“I’m sorry. Did that pull?” Ruby asked, as she began trying to unwind it.

Lily was oblivious. “No, no, it didn’t hurt,” she muttered, still craning her neck to see the driver.

And then to everyone’s surprise, the truck pulled up to the curb in front of the salon and parked, the driver racking the pipes one last time before killing the engine.

Vesta and Vera Conklin, the twin fortysomething hairstylists, had been eating their lunch in the break room and came out to see what the noise was all about.

Mabel Jean Doolittle was the manicurist, a little blond with a scar on her forehead from having gone through the windshield of her boyfriend’s car. She called it her reminder to never date anyone that stupid again.

She was finishing off a polish for Willa Dean Miller, who ran the local travel agency, and all the women in the shop turned to look as the driver walked in.

He was a thirtysomething hunk in a tight, long-sleeved T-shirt tucked into a pair of fitted Wrangler jeans. He had wide shoulders, long legs, slim hips, and a face bordering on cute rather than handsome, but he was working with what he had just fine.

He immediately swept the dove-gray Stetson from his head, revealing dark wavy hair, and smiled at the room like a star granting an audience to his fans.

Even though Vesta had yet to meet a man worth her time, she wasn’t yet dead and buried. She handed Vera her bowl of salad and scooted toward the counter.

“Welcome to The Curl Up and Dye. Can I help you?” she asked.

“I sure hope so, darlin’. My name is T. J. Lachlan and I’m new in town. I inherited the old Bissler house from my great-uncle Gene and am staying there while I’m fixing it up to sell. I came in to get a haircut and learned the local barber is in the hospital. When I saw your Walk-Ins Welcome sign, I wondered if I might trouble one of you fine ladies for a trim.”

“Sure, I have time,” Vesta said.

Vera glared at her sister, then smirked. “No you don’t, Vesta. Sue Beamon is due any minute.” She set the bowls with their food back in the break room and sauntered to the front of the store and introduced herself.

“Welcome to Blessings, Mr. Lachlan. My name is Vera, and I’d be happy to cut your hair.”

“Y’all can call me T. J., and isn’t this something. Excuse me for saying this, but twins are truly a man’s finest fancy,” he said, and then flashed them both a wide grin.

They didn’t know whether to be insulted or impressed by the sexual inference, and Ruby could see it was about to get out of hand.

“Vesta, there comes Sue, so Vera can pick up the walk-in. Welcome to Blessings, T. J. Take a seat and we’ll get you fixed right up.”

She arched an eyebrow at the twins as a reminder that this was a place of business, then turned Lily’s chair around and the blow-dryer back on. Because LilyAnn’s hair was so long, it always took a while to dry. She began working the round vent brush through the lengths while keeping an eye on the clock. Lily only had a limited amount of time, and Ruby didn’t want to make her late.

It wasn’t until she was about through that she realized Lily was staring at the stranger as if she’d seen a ghost.

Ruby paused. “Hey. Are you okay?” she whispered.

Lily blinked, and when she met Ruby’s gaze in the mirror, her eyes were filled with tears.

“I’m fine, Sister. He just reminded me of someone.” Then she shook her head and looked away.

Ruby’s eyes narrowed. This was the first time she could remember the woman even showing an interest in another man. Even if it was a negative interest, it was better than nothing.

“How about we do something a little different with your hair? Maybe pull the sides away from your face and fasten them up here at the crown… or maybe at the nape of your neck? Hmm? What do you think?”

She pulled the sides back and held them up at the crown to show Lily what she was talking about.

Lily frowned. Pulling her hair away from her face like that only emphasized her double chin.

“I don’t know. I guess,” she muttered.

“Good,” Ruby said. “A little change never hurt anyone.”

With an eye still on the clock, she quickly finished Lily’s new look.

“There you go. Look how pretty you look like this, and just in time to get back to work before Mr. Phillips can complain.”

Lily frowned again. She felt naked—like she’d revealed too much of herself. She didn’t much like it, but it was too late to change it. She slipped into her jacket and grabbed her purse before scuttling toward the front like a crab going sideways across a beach. Her head was down and her shoulders slumped, operating on the theory that if she couldn’t see the hunk, then he couldn’t see her.

“Same time next week,” she said, as she handed Ruby her money and bolted out the door like the place had just caught on fire.

But what had caught fire was LilyAnn’s lust. She hadn’t felt stirrings in her belly like that since the last time she saw Randy Joe naked. Only then she’d been just as naked and proud of her body, not like now.

Not once in the last eleven years had she given her changing shape much thought. It had never been an issue to her existence until today. The stranger was hot like Randy Joe and drove a fine fancy truck, just like Randy Joe. And once upon a time he would have looked at LilyAnn and wanted her… just like Randy Joe. But that man sitting in Vera’s styling chair would never give her a second look.

So the question was… what, if anything, was she going to do about this?