Page 52 of Devil's Marker

“You sure?” Catcher said, looking at himself with extreme reservation in the three-way mirror. “I think I look like a douche.”

The saleswoman giggled.

“What do you think?” Win asked her.

She looked at Catcher like she was in love. “Gorgeous.” Something about her tone of voice told both men that she wasn’t just acting for the sake of a sale.

“See?” Win said to Catcher. To the saleswoman he said, “Can you get the alterations done by Friday morning? Scratch that. We have to have it then and won’t buy this stuff otherwise.”

“We can do a rush with an extra fee for the service.”

“Done. Now where can I take him to get a hair makeover?”

Catcher immediately began shaking his head vigorously. “No. No. No. No. No.”

Win looked at the sales clerk. “Ignore that.”

“Don’t take him to a barber shop unless you want him to end up looking like a Mormon.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, God. Please tell me you’re not Mormon. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Win and Catcher both gave her amused looks. “Seriously? You think there’s a chance we’re Mormon?”

She took a deep breath. “You should go to a unisex salon where people actually know something about hair.” Win nodded. “Give us a name.”

“Now.”

“Well, yes. If you don’t mind,” said Win.

She laughed. “No. That’s the name of the salon. Now. Over on Washington.”

Win smiled. “You have been a very big help.”

She grinned. “Thank you. Kind of wish I could see the heads turn when he shows up Friday.” She looked at Catcher, who was holding a box of shoes and two shirts, one white, one pearl gray, on hangers in a plastic bag slung over his shoulder. “Got a feeling you’re going to be a regular.”

He shook his head and looked away. “Not in this lifetime.”

When they got in the car, Win pulled up directions to Now. “Head down to 17thand go west.”

“You know, for the first time, I’m wonderin’ how bad I want to be a biker. There was one time I had to go for two days without sleep. I’ve cleaned up puke. I’ve earned no money. I’ve cleaned bikes by hand. I’ve had no time to, um, date. And I’ve been everybody’s gofer. But nothin’ compares to this.”

“Takin’ one for the team.”

“Worst part is, say it works out like that lady said and I actually end up with nice clean healthy girls interested in a ride. I’m leavin’ alone ‘cause I’m workin’ for the club.” When Win didn’t answer, Catcher said, “Right?”

“I’m thinkin’ it depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“If we take two cars, have a nice quiet uneventful evenin’ and there’s nothin’ to report at closin’ time, I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t use your new look to give the little ladies a thrill.”

Catcher glanced over to see if Win was serious. “You know I’m prospectin’. Right? I don’t have the luxury of decidin’ what to do with my time.”

“Let’s go to the beauty parlor and then we’ll talk to Boss.”

“Beauty parlor! I ain’t goin’ to no beauty parlor!”

Win laughed. “Settle down. I just said that to get a rise out of you. Jesus. Are you feelin’ conflicted about your masculinity?”

Catcher gaped before slamming on the brakes and pulling off the road. “I’ll take you right here, right now, fucker. Get out of the car.”

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