Page 53 of Devil's Marker

Win looked at Catcher calmly. “You’re challenging a full patch member, Prospect?”

Catcher looked uncertain. “Uh. No. Of course not. I just…. Ah. Was kidding?”

“That’s what I thought. So was I. Kidding, I mean.”

“Oh.” Catcher faced forward and pulled back onto 17th.

Win had put three hundred dollar bills on the counter downstairs before the receptionist managed to find somebody who could take a ‘walk in’.

“You are not makin’ me look like fuck all Justin Bieber!”

“No, no, darlin’. This is not a Bieb-do. Swear to God!” Stylists rarely have to defend their occupation. They usually just schedule hair services and get paid to do it.

“I know this is really unusual,” Win said. “But could you give us sixty seconds to talk. There’ll be a nice big tip in it for you havin’ to put up with…” He gave Catcher the kind of glare that said he’d lost patience. “This.”

“Sure,” she said, looking anything but sure.

She stepped out of the small room that was her business within a community of individual style businesses. Win leaned over Catcher. “You wanna be a full patch member. Then stop actin’ like a whiny little bitch. Grow up. Take one for the team. And there might be rewards in it for you that you haven’t even imagined.”

“Rewards?” That word seemed to get his attention.

“That you haven’t imagined.”

“You’re not talkin’ lollipops. Right?”

“Christ. You are unbelievable.” Win counted to five. “Now the nice woman is gonna come back in here and make you look like a heartthrob.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a guy that every woman wants.”

“There’s no such thing.” He got a funny look on his face. “Is there?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why don’t we ask her what she thinks about your hair?”

“If that’s what it’ll take to get you to act your age.”

“Fine.”

Catcher grinned at the mirror like a fool. He’d been given what the stylist called an undercut with long texture, meaning the sides were almost shaved but the top of his dark blonde hair fell over his ears in a dangerous and rebellious way. The cool thing about it, Catcher thought, was that it would look equally good in a cut with his tats showing or in the custom faggot suit Garrett picked out. It also made him look older somehow.

He turned from side to side, used the hand mirror to check out the rearview action, then jumped up and gave the surprised stylist a hug and big kiss on the cheek. “You’re gonna get me laid Friday, scissors girl.”

Win turned to the stylist. “Yeah. You did good.”

Catcher spun around and flopped into the observation chair. “Now what about him?”

Win thought the gleam in the prospect’s eye looked a little mean. He turned to the stylist. “I’m too old for that.” He pointed to Catcher. “But I guess I could use a trim.”

If Win had been wearing a button down, his hair would have reached the bottom of the collar.

“Sit yourself down,” she said.

---