Page 18 of Jake's Angel

“No. The owner did.” He pinches the skin above my belly button with a clamp, then tells me to breathe in, then out. On the exhale, the needle pierces through my skin with a sharp sting. He watches me closely as he places the little diamond jewel on the curved barbell.

As he cleans up and I lay waiting for a minute, he rattles on about the shop. “Jake hasn’t decided on all the rooms yet, but this one he wanted to keep colorful andpretty.I guess he thinks it helps relax people while they’re getting stabbed with a needle.” He shrugs his shoulder.“Chicks dig it. So, I guess maybe he’s right.”

“Jake? Tall guy. Dark hair. Wears a leather vest with the same symbol as your shop sign. That Jake? He owns this place?” Curiosity has gotten the better of me and apparently taken over my mouth.

“Yep. You know him?” He looks up at my face, smiling. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. Most of the women coming through Oak Ridge know Jake. Or they know of him at least. Dude’s a legend of sorts. All the men wearing that cut areknown in this town.”

Ew. Did he just suggest every woman in this town has slept with Jake?My stomach rolls at the thought.

“Uh, not exactly. My friend knows him.”

“Yeah, like I said, not surprised,” he says, smiling, nodding like he knows something or thinks he does.

“Listen, um …”

“Jesper.” He tosses the needle into a red sharps container and begins rolling up the paper towels and plastic on the tray.

“Jesper. Thanks for this. Uh, how much do I owe you?” I stand, pausing a moment while my head spins a little.

“Whoa. Hey, easy,” Jesper coaxes, grabbing my arm to steady me. I wince at his touch, and he immediately drops his hand. “Sorry,” he says, his brow pinched. “Look, uh, it’s sixty, even. You sure you don’t want to sit for a minute? You look a little pale.”

I’m sure I do.But not for the reasons he’s thinking. I need to get out of here before Jake comes strolling in and sees me. I’m sure he’s going to want answers after the way I ditched him.

If he’s as popular as Jesper says, Jake won’t care. Why should you?

“Um, no. I’m fine. I think I just stood up too fast.” I hand him a one-hundred-dollar bill from my backpack and throw my hoodie back over my head. “Keep the change,” I offer, not caring I gave him a forty-dollar tip. I just want to get out of here. Once I’m out the front door, I breathe in the fresh air and start speed walking as fast as I can away from the shop. After nearly three blocks, I stop at the corner and lean against a building to catch my bearings.

Way to go, dummy. No one is chasing you.

When I’ve finally got myself under control, I take a look around and realize I’ve stopped next to a bookstore. Bells ring above the door as I open it, alerting the old man behind the counter of my presence.

“Come on in. Can I help you find anything in particular?” He hollers, his voice kind of raspy, like he’s smoked for years.

I glance around the place. There are rows upon rows of books and knick-knacks. Along the far wall is a long stretch of magazines. A woman on one cover with caramel colored hair and blonde highlights catches my eye.

“I think I’ll just have a look at your magazines.” I tell the older gentleman. He points his finger to the rack I’ve already spotted, then sits back down in his chair, opening the newspaper.

I thumb through the pages of various types of hairstyles, cuts, and colors. While flipping through, a memory flitters through my thoughts.

“I love it when you wear your hair down. How long and silky it is between my fingers.” He wraps the strands around his hand and gives a sharp tug, pulling my head back as he licks my cheek. “It’s also a great way to maintain control. Keeping you right where I want you, as I do all the things I’ve dreamed about to this disrespectful mouth of yours.”

“Hey, honey!” The old man’s voice calls out, bringing me out of my internal moment of hell. “If you’re not going to buy it, how about you don’t crumple it up, huh?”

Letting loose of the magazine, I start smoothing the edges. “Sorry. I got lost in thought.” His only response is to grunt and grumble to himself.

Continuing to thumb through the pages, I find the woman on the cover’s transformation photos of her before and after thecut and color. I hear my grandmother’s voice in my head stating,“You will cut your hair over my dead body.”

Well, if that’s not an incentive, I don’t know what is.

“I’ll take the magazine and directions to the nearest hair salon, please.” Laying the magazine on the counter along with the cash to pay for it, I feel a little rush of adrenaline.

The man’s instructions were easy to follow and place me in a quaint little salon one block over. When the young girl behind the desk calls my name, I follow her into the back to the hair washing station, filled with excitement and anticipation. I point to the woman on the cover of the magazine and tell the stylist, “I want my hair to look like hers.”

Me: I’ve made a few decisions today. I’ll be at Just Off the Top when you or Skyler are ready to get me

Badass Bestie: HELL YES!! Be there shortly

CHAPTER SIX

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