Scaredy Cat (9 page)

“After watching that movie, I’m kind of skittish, too. Go write something else that will scare the shit out of me. I’m going to lay right here.”

“Make yourself at home then. If you get hungry, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Should you get cold, pull the blanket off the back of the couch. You can watch TV. It won’t bother me at all.”

Quinn gave Blake’s hand a squeeze before she released it. “Go, Blake. I’ll be fine.”

Blake’s response was childlike. “Okay,” she said with excitement and jumped up.

Quinn fluffed the pillows and burrowed into the couch. She watched as Blake pushed a button on her computer, then went into the kitchen. She returned seconds later with a can of Mountain Dew. She took a seat, and after a minute or two, Quinn listened to the rapid tap of keys being pressed.

“You type fast. I hunt and peck.”

“Yeah, I have to go back and fix a lot of mistakes. I do it so quickly that I misspell and use a lot of words in the wrong context. When it should be dear, it’s deer, even though I know the difference.”

“Thank God for editors, right?” Quinn said with a laugh.

“Absolutely. God bless them all.”

Blake fell silent, but her keyboard didn’t. From where Quinn lay, she could see words appearing on the screen but couldn’t read them.

“You should put what you just told me in a book. I bet that would be cathartic, or would it be too personal?”

Blake stopped typing and turned her head slightly. “I already have. The book was called
The Deepest Cut, Darkest Heart.
”

“I bet your sister hated that title. I’m still mad at her, by the way.”

“Uh…Quinn…the TV doesn’t bother me, but conversation that I have to be involved in breaks my concentration.”

“Shut up, Quinn Scott,” Quinn said as she put a pillow over her face. She knocked it away a while later when she felt her body relax and begin to give in to sleep.

Through heavily lidded eyes, she watched Blake work. Every now and then, she’d stop typing and take a sip of her soda, or she’d stare at the ceiling before she began again. Quinn smiled sleepily as Blake turned and looked at her for a moment. “Thanks,” Blake whispered before she resumed tapping away.

*******

For Blake, it seemed that only a few minutes had passed between one and three a.m. Quinn was sleeping soundly on the couch with one arm thrown over her forehead. The other one, the Quinn who lived in Blake’s mind, was chattering away, and Blake could barely keep up with all she had to tell. Blake’s bladder ached from being full, her shoulders and back felt stiff, and her butt was numb. Reluctantly, she put the mental Quinn on hold, hoping she’d still be willing to talk after a trip to the bathroom and a stretch.

When Blake returned, Quinn had rolled on her side and was hugging a pillow to her chest. You are very sweet, and someone is going to steal your heart again one day. I hope she’s worthy of you, Blake thought as she walked silently by, staring at Quinn’s face. Blake reclaimed her chair and closed her eyes, waiting for the Quinn in her head to break the silence.

When she first began to draft Quinn’s character, she made Quinn a straight woman, but when Blake had introduced the male love interest in the story, imaginary Quinn clammed up. The more Blake wrote, the more tension developed between her character and Quinn’s character, though Blake had not intended it that way. She’d never written lesbian characters into her books, even though she was one because Cassidy had unknowingly offended Blake when she suggested that she do it.

“Write in a lesbian couple, make them peripheral characters. Hot sex between women will have the tongues of your male fans wagging. Lesbians are the ‘in’ thing right now, you can get away with using them.”

Blake had bitten her tongue like she always had with Cassidy because most of the time her agent knew best. She didn’t care if it was the “in” thing. Something so intensely personal did not belong in a book that was written to make the reader shake in their shoes. But with every line she wrote, she could see that her Blake and her Quinn were gradually moving toward each other. It felt sweet and tempered the scariness of the story. Blake was content to see where it led.

She gazed over her shoulder at Quinn and wondered if she’d freak out as badly about this as she did being killed in the last story. The jury was still out on that. Blake made a mental note to shut down the program she was writing in whenever she was away from the computer.

Chapter 16

Trina the hairstylist booked Blake for Friday at noon. Quinn picked her up and dropped her off because work was busy that day. She was, however, kind enough to walk Blake inside without Blake having to ask because a pack of dogs sunned themselves in what Blake could only loosely describe as a front yard. The mobile home sat near the road, patches of high grass broke up rutted dirt that she assumed was to be considered the parking lot. Blake began to sweat a little as she pondered trusting her hair to the epitome of rednecks.

“Like I told you, I was put off by the sight, too,” Quinn said as though she were reading Blake’s mind. “I promise, though, Trina is a magician. You okay?”

Blake blew out a breath as they stood on the deck outside. “Yes.”

Quinn smiled and pushed open the door. Trina was a plump middle-aged woman with a head of pink and orange stripes in her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She rushed to greet them. “Well, hi, sugar,” she said with a huge smile, which sounded more like suga since she dropped the R like everyone else did in town. “Your name sounds so familiar. Have we met?”

“I’m from New York, I don’t think so,” Blake said a tad timidly as Trina crowded her personal space.

“Well, it’s a fine pleasure to meet you.”

Blake’s head look like a bobble doll as Trina shook her hand furiously.

“How long do you think it’ll take? I’m her ride,” Quinn said, hoping Trina wouldn’t rattle Blake to pieces literally and figuratively.

“Give me about an hour and a half, Quinn.” Trina gave Blake a little push toward the coffeepot. “Suga, you get yourself a cuppa joe, and we’ll get started.” She stuck her finger in Quinn’s face. “Tell yo sista that she still owes me twenty bucks. She was short the last time she came in, ya hear?”

Quinn pulled a twenty from her pocket and handed it to Trina. “I’ll be back in an hour and a half. She better still have hair on her head. Got me?”

“Git out,” Trina said with a laugh and shoved Quinn out the door. Trina rubbed her hands together as she regarded Blake. “Sit down here, girl, and let me see what you’re workin’ with.”

Blake wanted to chase Quinn but followed the order. Trina ran her hands and a comb through her hair. Every so often, she would say “hmm” or “uh-huh.” Blake wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

“Now if I recall, you want to strip this old black out and go back to your natural cullah.”

Blake took cullah to mean color. “Yes, if possible.”

“All things are possible in the house of Trina. Now look here, you got some split ends, and the stripping chemical is harsh. So this is what I say we do. I’m gonna strip yo hair first, then I’m gonna deep condition it, then I’m gonna trim off those ol’ dead pieces so yo beautiful hair can grow.”

There was not one R in anything Trina said, but Blake got the point. “Okay, that sounds like a plan.”

“Good, now drink that coffee down, suga, ’cause ol’ Trina is about to dance.”

Trina skipped the prewash since Blake had already washed her hair that morning and put in a pre-conditioner, then something foul-smelling to strip away the “cullah.” All the while, Trina spewed an endless stream of chatter that Blake listened to in pure amazement because Trina didn’t seem to take a breath. She switched subjects so fast that Blake really had to concentrate on everything she said because she occasionally asked a question.

“…and then there was the time I got stupid and went out with Bruce Gable. He was no Clark, let me tell you. You know Bruce?”

“No, I don’t know many peop—”

“You ain’t missin’ nothin’ in him. Anyway, he took me out to a club to dance. I do love to dance. I shook my big ol’ rump until I thought it would fall off. We closed that bar down. Bruce didn’t drink nothin’ but a beer, so I knew he was in his right mind when he drove me home. We were on an old dark road, and he stopped and went to pawin’ at me like a bear after a Honeybun. I told him no, but he just kept right on. I started whoopin’ on his ass somethin’ fierce. When Quinn drove up, I had his ass on the ground in the middle of the road justa stomping the shit out of him.”

Trina released a loud laugh that felt like it vibrated the walls. “You know what she said to me?”

It was obviously a rhetorical question because she didn’t wait for an answer.

“Quinn rolled down her window and said, ‘Trina, when you get finished killin’ that snake, climb in, I’ll take you home.’ I’d never been so happy to see anyone in all my life because it was a long walk back to town, and I had no clue how to drive Bruce’s old truck. It was three on the tree, ya know. Most everyone that comes in here talks bad about Quinn, and up until then, I hadn’t had much contact with her. I’d seen her around town, but we ain’t never spoke. She was just as sweet as she could be that night, and ever since, I’ve liked her despite what people have to say. You ever been through a winter here? It might not compare to New York, but after you’ve been in the heat of our summers, you gonna lose that winter skin and freeze like the rest of us when it—”

“Wait.” Blake held up a hand. “Why do people talk bad about Quinn?”

Trina kicked something under the chair and spun it around so that she was face-to-face with Blake. “How long you known her?”

Blake shrugged. “Not long, three or four weeks.”

Trina narrowed her eyes. “I used to be a judging woman, but I’m not no more, not after gettin’ to know Quinn. So don’t be afraid to answer my question. Are you a homosexual, too?”

“Uh…yes.”

Trina pointed her comb in Blake’s face. “That’s why.” She spun the chair around again. “Oh, suga, they gonna talk that way about you, too, as soon as they find out you’re Quinn’s lady.”

“I’m not.” Blake tried to turn and look over her shoulder, but the fumes coming from her head nearly blinded her. “We’re friends. I’m not her…lady.”

“Don’t make no difference. People gonna see you two hanging around together, and even if you wasn’t a homo, they’d call you one ’cause you friends with her. Like I told you, I ain’t a judging woman no more, so if anyone comes in here and speaks ill of you like they do Quinn, I’m gonna shut ’em down with a quickness just like I do when they get after her.”

“What do they say when ‘they get after her’?”

“They say not to call her if they having plumbing problems because Quinn will put something in the water to make them a queer. She fixed my sink in the kitchen once, and I still want me a man, so I know that’s a lie. They try to say she’s too ugly to get a man, but that’s a lie, too, because Quinn is a pretty woman, don’t you think so?” This time, Trina actually waited for a response.

“Yes, I do,” Blake said after a moment of hesitation.

“Uh-huh,” Trina said, and Blake caught her smile in the mirror. “They say that if she spends any time around the kids, they’ll turn out homo, too, so they try to run her off if she goes to the football or baseball games at the high school.”

“That’s so unfair,” Blake exploded.

For the first time since Blake walked in, Trina fell silent for a moment.

“Yes, it is,” she said somberly. Glenda Percy is the ringleader of all the talk in this town, and she hates Quinn. I don’t know why. Quinn is a likable woman, but when ol’ Glenda sees folks startin’ to relax and be nice to Quinn, she riles them up by sayin’ all sorts of nasty things. I think it’s because she likes all the attention on her, and if she’s a-bashin’ on someone, everybody is a-listenin’. She works at the grocery store. You met her?”

“Yes, and I didn’t like her,” Blake said quickly.

“No one does, but they all afraid of gettin’ on her bad side because she has a way of knowin’ everyone’s secrets, and she’ll tell them if you piss her off. You watch her, ya hear?”

“I will, thank you.”

“Now let’s wash this shit out.”

*******

Trina was blow-drying Blake’s hair when Quinn walked in. It covered most of Blake’s face and eyes, so she didn’t notice Quinn’s arrival. She didn’t hear the door close, either, because above the hairdryer, Trina was telling a story that Blake couldn’t make a word out of. When Trina switched off the dryer and brushed Blake’s hair from her face, she spotted Quinn in the mirror. Her green eyes were huge.

Trina spun Blake around to face Quinn and with a flourish said, “ta da!”

“What do you think?” Blake asked a bit worried because Quinn was still staring at her, mouth partially opened. “Quinn?”

“You’re pretty,” Quinn blurted out as her eyelids fluttered.

“Yeah, she is, pretty as freckles on an orange cat’s lips.” Trina slapped the back of the chair, jarring Blake. “And that’s just her, no makeup, all natural. If I wasn’t gorgeous myself, I’d be a little jealous.”

Quinn was still slack-jawed and staring as Blake got up and walked over to the counter to pay Trina. Her tip was as much as the fee and earned her a hug from Trina that realigned every single joint in her body. Blake made a mental note to come back, even if she didn’t need her hair done, for the chiropractic services alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m being rude, but I can’t stop staring at you,” Quinn said as she walked Blake to the truck and opened her door. “I mean, you were attractive before, but now…you look so different. Wait…I mean…”

“I know what you mean, and thanks,” Blake said with a smile. “You were right. The black did make me look harsh.”

Quinn looked pained as she said, “Harsh was so wrong. I shouldn’t have used that word. Did you look at yourself in the mirror?”

Blake laughed. “Yeah.”

Quinn smiled goofily and closed the door. Blake watched her walk around the front of the truck. She was so flattered by Quinn’s reaction that she’d not noticed that she had strolled right past the pack of dogs. Blake had not looked into the trees for birds, either. She was high in the clouds above them.

“I’ll bet you’re gonna take pictures of yourself and send them to everyone you know,” Quinn said teasingly when she got back into the truck.

“I’m feeling really cocky. I might send one to Beth.”

“Who is that?” Quinn asked as she turned the truck around.

“My ex.”

“Oh…well, you should. If she doesn’t beg to visit you, there’s something wrong with her.”