Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men) (11 page)

Running her fingers through her shorn locks, Amy marveled at the way Eric’s former girlfriend had turned her cowlick into an asset. The cut seemed to spiral around her head, in the direction dictated by the hated whorl.

“I don’t own a hairdryer,” was all she could think to say. The difference in her appearance was too enormous to absorb all at once. She kept staring, feeling light-headed, in every sense of the word.

“You can just wash it and let it air dry, if you like.” The beautician tugged the abbreviated bangs on Amy's forehead. “I wish I could see Eric’s face when he sees you.” Amy glanced at Dee.
What a nice thing to say.
Dee whisked the cape from around her shoulders. “She’s all yours, Dani.”

Amy exchanged her seat at Dee’s station for a stool in front of the makeup girl’s counter. She tried to memorize the way Dani made her eyes seem all smoky and her lips look like glazed berries, but she soon lost track of all the pots, potions, and pencils. Through the onrushing flurry of brushes and sponges, the only thing keeping her in the chair was the idea of not walking across the stage with her graduating class in May.

Right. This has nothing to do with the Eric experiment.

“Voila!” Dani finally cried, stepping back. Amy heaved a sigh of relief at having her personal space vacated.

“Eric’s flat-out gonna love the way you look,” Dee stated. “Amy’s seeing Eric De Marco,” she explained.

“Oh, I saw them together last night.” Dani nodded, cutting a glance at Amy. “You might as well know right now, the words ‘love’ and ‘Eric De Marco’ do not belong in the same sentence.”

Amy took a deep breath. She was no good at catty conversation. “He and I watched the snow fall from his hot tub last night.”

Dani rolled her eyes. “Hot tub, my ass. His idea of a hot tub is probably burning wood in a wheelbarrow parked in the middle of a blow-up kiddie pool.”

What a stuck-up bitch.

The redhead arched her brows. “Unless he’s spending that insurance money? My, what good timing you have, Amanda.”

Amy turned her attention back to the mirror so she didn’t poke Dani in the eye. With her foot.

To her amazement, her face appeared thinner.
Who knew cheekbones could be painted on?
They had to be, she decided, angling her head. She didn’t have cheekbones. She had detestable, apple-shaped appendages on her face, but there they were. Cheekbones. With hollows.

Running her tongue around inside her mouth, Amy checked to be sure this pair hadn’t drugged her somehow and pulled her back teeth. Stranger things had happened at the mall in the last twenty-four hours. She reached to touch those elegant bones, but Dani slapped her hand.

Her nose itched from the unaccustomed layer of goo, but a woman stared back at her from the glass, not a little girl.

Dani dismissed the subject of Eric with a wave of her fingers. “We do good work, Dee.”

“Thanks, Dani. I’ll think about which items I’d like to buy, but I have an appointment in just a few minutes.” Amy only felt a tiny bit bad about using the girl’s talent and supplies. Besides, it’d been Dani’s sarcastic offer of a free makeover that gave her the idea. Well, that and the fact she didn’t own any makeup.

Dee moved behind her. “I always regretted Eric and I broke up. We dated toward the end of our senior year—ancient history,” the beautician confided with a laugh. She folded her arms, but not before Amy spied her wedding band.

“What happened?”

Deanne shrugged, unfolding her arms and plucking a few of the small bottles off the shelves around her station and slipping them into the pocket of her smock. “He got a job building engines for a NASCAR team when he was only seventeen, and he wasn’t the gopher, either. He’s too damn good to work in that garage, tuning up mini-vans. He worked his ass off to get accepted at Georgia Tech. When he decided not to go, we had a huge fight. I didn’t want him to quit dreaming. Never could figure out why he didn’t go to California with his sister.”

“Not everyone likes California. I love living right here. He probably does, too.” Amy felt the need to defend him while she trailed the other woman to the register. Dee rang up a ghastly amount. Her mouth fell open again.

“Wait, I haven't applied the Eric De Marco discount.” Dee chuckled and punched a few more keys. A much smaller amount appeared, to Amy’s relief. “I want him to be happy. I’m not sure he’s ever been happy.” The hairdresser accepted Amy’s money and gave her hand a squeeze. To her shock, Dee shoved some of the bottles into a bag, and pressed the samples into her hand. “He deserves that.”

How the hell did the man go from Dee to Dani?
“Thank you so much. I appreciate you working me in.”

Tina towed Amy through a curtain the moment she returned to the department store, thrusting her into a dressing room. Her eyes narrowed again. “Your hair and makeup look good. Who cut your hair?”

“Deanne... um, Wilkerson?”

Tina’s lips twisted. “Another of Eric’s old girlfriends. Did he send you there, too?”

“Not exactly. I went with him last night to get his hair cut. She showed me a picture of this style.” Amy raked her fingers through her hair, taking another look in the full-length mirror.

“He’s all candy coating, of course. Yummy on the outside, nothing on the inside.” Before she could think of a response, Tina ordered, “Strip. When you’re curvy, foundation is essential.”

“Foundation?” To Amy, that was a construction term. Dani used the same word. Why would Tina talk about makeup? She blinked.

“Undergarments. And as of now, no more bikinis. Ever.” Tina wrinkled her nose and ticked off her words on her fingers. “Tap pants, boy shorts, waist-high panties, even briefs are allowed and are attractive,”—she shook her finger in Amy’s face—“but when you’re built like you, never, ever, wear bikinis. Draws the eye to the least flattering place possible. We’ll go from there, once you’ve been fitted.” Tina stabbed a manicured nail at a pile of lingerie hanging on a hook Amy hadn’t noticed. “Eric loves to buy lingerie for his women. Spend his money, since he’s parked on a big old pile of it at the moment. But you need one decent bra to try on these dresses.”

Her heart sank. She hadn’t expected to have to buy underwear. Her savings was going to be gone before she ever got her foot in the mall manager’s door. Life would be easier if she could just empty her money into Gene’s pocket.

She tried on three dresses. They all looked better than she’d expected. Tina decreed the second one made her skin look sallow. The garment was thrown into a buggy to be returned to the racks. Somehow, the seamstress used the pins plucked from the cushion strapped to her wrist to make her look less like she needed to shop in the kid’s department, while Tina made her feel like a child.

“It’s my mission to make sure your students know you’re the teacher and not just another student. If you’re just buying one outfit today, go with the teal dress. The color brings your eyes to life.”

Tina flipped through the buggies, but stared through the open curtain while Amy struggled to reach the zipper. “You know Eric has huge intimacy issues?” Her painted lips turned down at the corners.

What would Lila say to this bitch?

“He has huge... something, I’d agree.” Tina laughed, agreed with a loud sigh, and yanked the curtain closed. Fuming, Amy struggled with the zipper on the caramel tweed dress.

The seamstress entered the small cubicle moments later. Once the woman helped Amy remove the garment, she took the chosen dress. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

Amy sank gratefully onto the bench. If the woman kept her promise, Amy would get to her appointment with ten minutes to spare. She put the tweed dress back on the hangar, wondering if she should go ahead and buy it, since she liked it and the seamstress had marked the hem already. Maybe the bossy witch would hold the dress until Monday. She couldn’t resist looking through the piles of frothy lingerie again. A few sets had been seriously marked down.

Her cell vibrated. Digging the phone out of her pants, she read the long series of texts from Lila.
Oh, no.
Lila had to be upset—she thought texting was idiotic.

“Look what I found,” Tina crowed, jerking the curtain open and nearly scaring Amy off the bench. “Size five, and on sale. Once I ring in my discount, you can buy that bra and still come in under budget.”

Tina was giving her a discount? Amy felt so confused. She disliked Tina intensely, but had to admit, the discount was welcome. Still, she’d rather have been in a position to refuse the gesture.

If anyone had ever told her she’d own a pair of teal snakeskin heels, she’d have called them delusional. Tina might be a hard pill to swallow, but Amy had to admit, she was good at her job. “I need to pay for this stuff and wear it out of the store.”

“No problem. I’ll get a pair of scissors and start cutting off the tags.” Tina snapped her fingers, adding, “Stockings. I’ll bring back a pair.”

Now or never.
She took a deep breath. “Since I just moved in with Eric, I’d say he’s cured his intimacy issues. Do you mind holding the other dress for me until Monday?” Watching Tina’s eyes go wide gave Amy the same feeling she got from hitting a home run.

She ripped open the packaging on the stockings, kicking off the shoe so hard, it bounced off the mirror. She managed to get the damn thigh-highs on, and swapped her panties for the sexy things Tina called tap pants that matched her bra. She didn’t need Eric to buy her damn underwear. To prove her independence, she added two of the on-sale sets to her purchases.

Tina applied her discount to everything except the alterations, even the sale items. Amy felt like a million bucks, for the low price of one-seventy-three and change, and a piece of her self-respect.

Even the blonde behind the mall office desk looked impressed. When the man she’d come to see stepped out of his office, Amy reminded herself the real point to all this bullshit was to graduate.

Philip Chapman bore a family resemblance to the De Marcos. His hair wasn’t as dark and his eyes were blue, but he looked like a nice guy. Taking a deep breath, Amy sank into the chair he offered and sent up a short prayer before launching into her proposal.

* * * *

T
he filter wrench slipped. The heavy cylinder fell to the concrete. Before he even picked the damn oil filter up, Eric knew he’d stripped the threads. “For the record, I hate these damn cheap filters.” He barked at Dan over the whine of the air compressor and hurled the wrench onto his workbench.

“Blame yourself. This isn’t the grade I told you to order.” Dan barely glanced up.

Eric stepped from under his fifth Ford Focus of the day.
Shitty beige car.
Grabbing a rag, he wiped his hands and strode toward the back door. Somewhere in his truck, he still had the scrap of paper Dan had used to scrawl the part number. Arguing was pointless. Dan believed being born first resolved any dispute in his favor. The only way to convince him he was wrong was to show proof. Eric gave the back door a vicious kick and strode outside.

Yanking open his truck door, he spied the scrap, tucked beneath the flip-down center console. Grabbing the note, he slammed the door so hard the big truck rocked. Rummaging in the closest trash can for a filter box, he squinted at Dan’s near-illegible scrawl, comparing the numbers. Colton had his head under the dash of a full-sized cargo van. Lost in his own world, as usual. Dan straightened, crossed his arms, and waited for the verdict, brows raised and wearing a smirk.

Goddammit.
Either Eric had read the numbers and letters off wrong—no one but family could read Dan’s writing—or the clerk had made the mistake.
But not Dan. Never Dan.

There was a clock mounted behind his big brother’s head. Dropping the box, he muttered, “My bad. I’m going to grab something to eat. Be back when you see me.”

After ripping off his coveralls and scrubbing his hands, he started through the back door a second time.

“Eric, don’t do anything stupid.” For one painful moment, Dan looked—and sounded—just like their father. He didn’t bother answering. Neither of his brothers had said another word about the courthouse meeting. In his heart, he knew they needed to wait until no one else was around, but fuck.
Just... fuck.

Traffic always seemed heavier on Fridays, and to his annoyance, today proved no exception. He gunned the Dodge past anything in his way, taking the exit for the interstate a good fifteen miles over the posted limit. Amy should be the last person he wanted to see, given his failure the night before, but if he could catch her when she came out of Phil’s office, maybe he could make her blush real cute, or she could make him laugh, and then his chest might not explode.

The corridor leading to the mall office was empty, except for one woman, just coming out of the office door. Eric moved aside, but she bumped into him anyway. “Dammit, I’m six feet tall,” he snapped. “How the hell did you not see me?” There had to be a bad tutorial floating around on how to talk to a guy, advocating physical contact over just saying “hello.” Before he could step around this woman, she grabbed his shirt, pretending to wobble on her heels.

Suppressing a groan, he grabbed her elbow to help steady her. She gained her balance and he took a half-step through the door, looking past the eager blonde at the desk and praying he hadn’t missed Amy. The hand gripping his sleeve didn’t let go.

“Eric?”

Hearing his name made him take a second look at the woman holding his arm. Anger ripped through him, because Dan was right again. He did have too many fucking ex-girlfriends. This one was sexy as hell, but he couldn’t even recall her name.

Wait a minute.
Those cheeks looked familiar. And he knew those lips. He blinked. “Amy? Goddamn, you look gorgeous, baby doll.” He traded his brief smile for another scowl. “Except, if those tears spill over, you’re gonna look like a raccoon.” He grabbed her hands. He had a hunch he knew why she was about to cry. “What did Phil say?” he demanded.

Amy stalked toward the main concourse. “He said my idea posed an ‘unacceptable liability’. Someone might get hurt if the ball got away.”