Page 3 of Waiting for a Prince
Way to go, Mark. Could you haveseemedany more gay? He gave himself a mental kick up the backside, his cheeks finally cooling.
“Why are you hiding in here?”
Mark almost hit the ceiling. “Fuck, Sonia, don’tdothat. I’ve warned you about sneaking up on me like that.” He clutched his chest.
Sonia rolled her eyes, grinning. “Get over it, stop being a drama queen,” she snickered. She poked a slim finger at his chest. “You hiding from Marie or what?” That grin was pure evil.
“Not exactly.” He peered around her to see if Sam was looking his way. OMG, he was staring toward the kitchen. Mark ducked his head back in. Sonia’s eyes danced with amusement, and she peered into the salon. “Sonia! Don’t look,” he implored her.
Sonia’s face lit up. “Ah, it’s likethat, is it?” There was that evil grin again. “Does he push your buttons, sweetie?”
Mark groaned. “Every single fucking one of them. What could only make him more perfect would be if he happened to be gay.”
Thank God he had Sonia to talk to at work. The fact that Mark was gay was no big deal to her and he always felt totally at ease when he was with her. The rest of the girls made all the right noises, but Mark could tell when someone was genuinely comfortable being around him. And as for Marie… The fewer dealings Mark had with her, the better.
Too bad she was his boss.
“You can’t hide out in here all the while she’s having her hair done,” Sonia reasoned. “If Marie catches on…”
She didn’t have to say another word.
“Okay, okay, I’m going,” he grumbled. He had his hairpieces to finish, after all. He trudged out of the kitchen and back to the centre unit, keeping his eyes away from the fantasy husband who sat drinking tea. Mark caught Sonia’s sympathetic expression as she returned to her client, and he shrugged.
Mark struggled for the forty minutes to keep his mind on the job. It was as though invisible strings kept tugging his head, forcing it to turn toward the window, no matter how hard he fought to concentrate on his mundane task. Each time Marie passed by, however, Mark kept his head down, fervently hoping she saw how caught up he was in his work. But once she’d gone, there was that urge to look at the perfect straight guy just one more time.
“He your type then?”
Mark looked up to find April standing next to him, her arms loaded down with clean towels, her jaws moving ceaselessly as she worked on yet another stick of chewing gum. Mark feigned puzzlement. April flicked her head toward Sam. “The hunk on the couch.” It was evident she was asking merely to be sociable. April rarely bothered to speak to him. She was usually moreinterested in what color she could dye her hair next. Today’s choice was purple, and together with the purple sparkly eye shadow and lips the color and size of ripe, swollen grapes, she was getting a few glances. And not for the right reasons. Mark was amazed Marie hadn’t said anything yet.
He glanced at his watch. The day was still young, though.
Mark gave a non-committal shrug. “Not really,” he said indifferently, lying through his teeth. “I’m not sure I have a type, in any case.” Like he’d discuss it withher. April gave a bored nod and went on her way, taking with her the odour of spearmint which seemed to surround her perpetually. Mark glanced wearily at his watch yet again and gave a sigh. Only six more hours to go. And fortunately, it was time for his break.
Yes!
He nipped into the kitchen and put the kettle on, before dropping a teabag into his mug. He couldn’t resist one more glance. He peered out and then froze.
Sam was stony-faced, his gaze fixed on the woman who was glaring at him.
“What do you mean, you didn’t book the restaurant?”
“Becky, you?—”
She cut him off. “Itoldyou not to call me that,” she said through gritted teeth. “My name isRebecca.”
Sam got to his feet and reached for his black leather jacket which was draped over the back of the couch. “Well,Rebecca, about two hours ago, you said you’d changed your mind, and you didn’t want to go tonight. And I haven’t suddenly developed amnesia.” He slung the jacket over his shoulder. “So I’ll talk to you when you’ve finished here. Buzz me when you’re ready.” He squared his shoulders. Mark noted the quick swallow as Sam’s Adam’s apple bobbed, the slight tremor that rippled through his lean body.
His words might have been bold, but to Mark’s way of thinking, they seemed more like a smokescreen. The guy was nervous.
“Where are you going?” Rebecca called out as Sam turned and walked out of the salon onto the bright sunlit street.
He kept right on going toward Union Street, his head down.
Mark glanced furtively to see how Rebecca was faring. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. Sonia was making soothing noises, but Mark could’ve told her the attempts to placate Rebecca didn’t even register on the woman’s spectrum. Sonia didn’t exist, as far as she was concerned. The shocked stares of the three clients in the salon served only to infuriate her further. She pressed her red lips together and swivelled in her seat to stare at her reflection. Mark wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam coming out of her ears.
Wow… the lady has a temper.
And that was all it took to have Mark get out of there as fast as he could.
