Sex Piston ran a finger over one of her brows. “Remind me to touch them up before I go home.”
“We’re only going to your house.” The woman plucking her brows hurt like a bitch. “You can do it next Friday. Calder and I will be riding out of town.”
“You figured out what cowboy casserole meant?”
“There’s a rodeo going on next Friday in Corbin, at the fair.”
Sex Piston had the reaction she’d had. She was still wiping the tears away when her customer showed up in a wave of toxic fumes that had her nearly gagging.
“Mrs. Carpenter, you’re right on time. I have your favorite chair waiting.”
The tiny old woman was so small and frail Sex Piston had to raise the chair by small degrees.
“I see you drove yourself.”
“I may be ninety-two, but I can drive better than my son.”
“Devon just doesn’t want you to get anymore speeding tickets.”
The old woman waved her concerns away. “I bought myself a radar detector at the swap meet. None of those cops are going to be catching me again. Devon is just being an old worry wart. You’d think a seventy-year-old bachelor would have better things to worry about than his mother who’s in better health than he is.”
“He’s not blind in one eye like you are.”
“I can see better with one good eye than he can with two.”
“If you say so.”
Crazy Bitch hid her grin, starting to take the aluminum foil out of Gail’s hair. She was grateful when she was able to move her to the washing station to escape the overpowering perfume Mrs. Carpenter was wearing.
Washing and giving her a scalp massage as she conditioned, she was still angry at her. She was about to wash it out when her professionalism made her feel guilty, massaging for several more minutes.
Moving her back to her chair, she cut her hair and blow-dried it without making the effort to chat, letting Sex Piston and Mrs. Carpenter’s conservation fill the room.
As she styled Gail’s hair, Crazy Bitch wasn’t able to hold back her tongue any longer when she saw Gail condescendingly listening in as Sex Piston invited Mrs. Carpenter and her son over to dinner one night at her parents’ house.
“Skulls and Ma would love to see you. I’ll cook. We can even go by the club and get a beer afterward. Of course, I would drive you home if you did,” she hastened to add the last part.
“I’d love to. We’re not doing anything this Saturday.”
“I’ll call Ma after I’m done and let her know. It’ll make her day.”
Crazy Bitch wound a section of Gail’s hair around the curling iron then moved to another.
“You want me to order the brownies when I pick up the pizzas for dinner tonight?” Prodding the curl the way she wanted it, she started curling another.
“Yes. If the pizza doesn’t add five pounds to my ass, the brownies will.”
“Star finish that book she was reading?” Crazy Bitch turned the chair to start another section.
Sex Piston turned her attention away from Mrs. Carpenter, gaping at the question.
“What b—”
“I told Star that, when she finished reading The Grapes of Wrath, we would watch the movie together and see which was better: the movie or the book.”
“Huh…? Are you…?”
Before Sex Piston could say anything, Crazy Bitch started talking to Gail.
“Sex Piston is just being modest. Her daughter is so smart she should be tested for accelerated classes. Have you met Star’s father, Stud?”
“No, I haven’t had the pleasure yet.”
“Of course, he doesn’t use his real name. His fans are always asking for his autograph. He races motorcycles, and he’s made a name for himself building them. His daughters, Meri and Keri, are going to be seniors this year. They’re really smart, too.” Crazy Bitch finished curling Gail’s hair, brushing it down gently so she wouldn’t lose the curl. “Yep, they’re smart as tacks. They take after their father. He’s the president of the Destructors. Stud and Sex Piston are taking the whole family to France when the girls graduate. They have a personal friend who’s invited them to stay. She’s a contessa.” She took off the cape, handing Gail the mirror for her to see the job she had done. “You been to France?”
“No, I haven’t. I love the color, thank you.” Gail reached for her purse, taking out a wallet to hand over her credit card. “Schedule me for another appointment six weeks from now.”
“Right now, I’m booked up for the next six months. But if I get any openings, I’ll phone you.”
Gail’s hand went to her hair protectively. “But you always do my hair every six weeks.”
“I’m so sorry.” She pretended a sorrow she didn’t feel. “I must have forgotten when I set my appointments.”
Gail turned helplessly toward Sex Piston. “Do you have any openings?”
“She’s full, too.” Crazy Bitch gave her the ticket to sign, knowing she wouldn’t be getting a tip.