The Curl Up and Dye (21 page)

Ruby was reaching for Patty’s arm, but it was all too late.

The clippers were buzzing on high when Patty made the first swipe through Bobbette’s long red hair, cutting a neat swath from the hairline all the way to the crown. Then she shoved Bobbette’s head forward, smashing her nose against the manicure table, and finished the cut all the way to the nape of her neck, leaving a gap in her hair a good three inches wide.

Ruby moaned. There was no way that was ever going to pass for a part.

Bobbette’s top lip was busted; her nose was leaning sideways on her face and bleeding profusely. She was screeching bloody murder when she flew out of the chair to face her attacker. Then she saw who it was and choked down the next screech as Mabel Jean shoved a towel under her nose to catch the blood. Bobbette’s mind was racing, but her speech was seriously impaired by a swollen mouth and broken nose.

“Uh… well, by lord, Batty Jude, hab you lost your bind?” Bobbette cried.

“No. Just my husband, and for what it’s worth, you can have the little bastard. He’s not worth beans when it comes to sex, but I suspect you already know that by now. What you don’t know is that the money in our family is mine, not his. So once the Baptist ministry has their weekly meeting and fires his ass for fornicating with a harlot, he’s not only going to be out of a job, he’s going to be broke and homeless… bless his heart.”

Bobbette was blinking back tears of pain, but her mind was racing. This was definitely not good news.

“Do you have anything you want to say to me before you call the police?” Patty asked.

Bobbette tilted her head back and shoved the towel tighter against her nose to stanch the flow. The last thing she wanted was to get the police involved.

“I’b not calling the bolice,” she mumbled.

“Really? I’ve just assaulted you and started a fight in The Curl Up and Dye. I’m sure there’s damage to the property and—”

“No, no damage here,” Ruby said quickly.

Bobbette groaned as she traced the path of stubble that began at her widow’s peak and went all the way down to the back of her neck.

“Lord hab mercy,” she mumbled, then rolled her eyes. “I’m sure this was an accident and—”

“No, it wasn’t an accident. However, it wasn’t premeditated. That I can swear to, because I did not know you would be here.” Patty handed the clippers to Ruby. “When you talk to the police, tell them I did not run from the scene of the crime and that I will be at home when they come to arrest me.”

Bobbette rolled her eyes, then winced because even that hurt.

“I’b not pressing charges.”

Patty frowned. “A harlot and a coward! You must be such a disappointment to your mama.” Then she smiled at Ruby. “So, I guess you can put me down at my regular time next week after all. Y’all have a nice day.”

The door jingled when she opened it, and then she was gone, leaving the women to stare at each other in disbelief.

Vesta handed Vera her bowl and fork and went to clean up her station. She had an appointment due in about fifteen minutes and needed to sweep up the red hair before she arrived.

Mabel Jean grabbed some rags and began sopping up the acrylic, then went to the back room to get some more cleaning supplies, leaving Ruby with the task of dealing with Bobbette.

“Uh, do you want me to call an ambulance?” Ruby asked.

Bobbette thought about the future and the fate of her hot date, and frowned.

“Dough, but I deed a ride to the Hoddywood botel to pick up by car.”

There were several reasons Vesta and Vera Conklin had reached the age of forty-two without getting married, and they were looking at one of the reasons why. Men could not be trusted around easy women.

“Why don’t you call your hot date?” Vesta asked.

Bobbette glared, pulled out her cell phone, and punched in the number to her mother’s house.

Vera snickered and then ducked back into the break room.

“Baba, it’s be, Bobbette. I’b at duh booty shob here in town. Cub get be. Hurry.”

She dropped the cell phone in her purse, then yanked the cape off the back of Vesta’s chair, threw it around her shoulders, and proceeded to shave herself bald.

“What in the world?” Vesta cried.

“I’b baking lembunade out of lembuns. Had accident. See… bwoken dose. Busted lib. I’ll work dis look till by hair grows out.”

Then she pulled a scarf out of her purse, tied it turban-style around her head, and handed Ruby two twenty-dollar bills.

“For duh mess and duh towel,” she said, and sailed out the door with her head up, the bloody towel pressed against her nose and her backside swaying.

Moments later, her ride pulled up in front of the shop. They saw her mother scream, although the car windows were up so they didn’t actually hear it, and then watched as they drove away.

“Well, that just about takes the cake,” Vera said, as she came out of the break room.

They were still giggling as they began putting the shop back together. A couple of minutes later, the bell jingled over the door yet again. They looked up.

Conrad Clymer was standing in the doorway with an uneasy look on his face.

“By any chance would… I mean, is—”

“Who are you looking for? Your wife or your whore?” Vera asked.

He gasped, as all the color faded from his face.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re gonna be begging for more than a pardon before this day is over,” Vesta said, as she continued to sweep up the red hair at her station.

He looked down. He’d had some damn good blow jobs with his fists wrapped in hair that color.

“Sweet Jesus,” he muttered. “Is that… uh, what…”

“Bobbette Paulson’s hair? Why yes, it is. Patty June shaved part of it off. Never would of guessed it, but she’s got a real mean streak. And, you can tell Bobbette is a stickler for style. She shaved the rest off herself so it would match. Nothing worse than a messy hairstyle,” Vesta added.

“I, uh…”

He pivoted on one heel and flew out the door.

The four women looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

Their day was about to level off, but Patty June’s day had just shifted gears.

Sharon Sala, who has also written under the name Dinah McCall, has more than eighty-five books in print, published in five different genres—romance, fiction, young adult, Western, and women’s fiction—and her young adult books have been optioned for film. She has been named a RITA finalist eight times by Romance Writers of America, and in 2011, they named her the recipient of the Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award. Her books are
New
York
Times
and
USA
Today
bestsellers and published in many different languages. She lives in Oklahoma, the state where she was born.