Page 75 of His Favorite Color is Blood
Misha heaved but finally left the knife in Tomas’s heart. “I’m saying he’s a fucking-cunt-son-of-a-bitch-shit-eating goat fucker!”
“That doesn’t even begin to cover what he is,” said Grim quietly.
“I’ll meet him. I’ll show him I’m not afraid of him.” Misha took a shaky breath and looked away, his arms sagging.
Grim touched Misha’s shoulder, prepared to step back if Misha chose to strike him with the knife. “You sure?”
Misha nodded. “Yes. I’m sick of him being my Boogeyman.”
Grim swallowed hard and crouched down to look Misha directly in the eyes. His heart thudded. “So be it. It’s your choice.”
Misha grabbed Grim’s wrist. “If we meet him, we can try to think of a way to get him.”
“I will kill him,” said Grim with a small nod. There was no doubt about it in him whatsoever.
Misha looked into his eyes with determination. “He’s only human.”
Grim smiled. “Precisely.”
Chapter 24
Misha
Misha was sat ina chair at the barber shop belonging to Tooth’s boyfriend, feeling nervous without the wheelchair, but Grim insisted it needed a technical checkup at his friend’s workshop and took it away. Grim assured Misha that Lucky could be trusted and that he wouldn’t be gone long, but it didn’t make Misha feel much safer. If anything happened, he wouldn’t be able to run, and crawling wasn’t nearly as effective as a method of losing a tail.
He was, however, relieved to realize that he wasn’t afraid of the scissors in Lucky’s hand. He’d wielded a knife without fear just yesterday, and it didn’t matter that Tomas had been dead already. What mattered was that Misha wasn’t afraid of the blade anymore. Maybe he was getting more confident, or maybe it was the way Grim had with knives that made Misha believe the blades were on his side. Either way, it made him feel good about himself, and now he would get his hair in order as well. Even staying among strangers without Grim was becoming easier as long as Grim vouched for them.
Lucky was a handsome guy around Misha’s age. His extremely long blond hair contrasted with an all-black outfit, but despite his big combat boots and a skull-shaped belt buckle, he smiled a lot and seemed friendly. A bittoofriendly toward Grim as far as Misha was concerned. When Lucky turned around to pick up a comb, Misha noticed white patches on the back of his denim vest. They stated: “Property of Tooth” and were accompanied by the Coffin Nails logo.
“Did someone cut your hair out of spite? Jesus.” Lucky frowned and ran his fingers through Misha’s locks. “I’d cut a fucker who tried to mess with mine like this.”
It felt strange to be touched by someone other than Grim, but Misha needed to get over himself, so he didn’t flinch. “No, Grim did it. It was getting too long,” he mumbled, annoyed by how shit his social skills were after spending years talking only to Gary or a webcam.
Lucky pulled on a few strands, watching the hair as if it were out to murder him. “I guess he tried.”
“I’m here for a reason. No need to rub it in.” Misha pouted and sank in the chair.
“Wow, I didn’t see that one coming,” said Lucky and put his hands on the backrest of the chair, glancing at Misha in the mirror. “What kind of hair do you want to leave with?”
Misha didn’t exactly spend his time looking through fashion magazines. “I want it to be … you know, attractive?” This couldn’t get any more embarrassing. Killing people was easier than this.
Lucky closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay. How does Grim like it?”
Misha frowned, watching his own reflection go red. “I think he likes to have something to hold on to.”
“Youthink?” asked Lucky, lowering himself over Misha. His nimble fingers slid between the strands, massaging Misha’s scalp. It had been so long since Misha visited a hairdresser that he wasn’t exactly sure if this amount of touching was something American barbers did or if he was getting some kind ofspecialtreatment.
“Sorry, that was a bit too much information.”
“No, no. That’s viable information. A man’s barber is like a doctor. You can be absolutely sincere with me,” said Lucky, and he picked up a trimmer.
“Grim likes to be all slick and clean-shaven, but I’m pretty certain he wouldn’t like me bald.” Misha stared at his reflection. It’d been a while since he was prompted to assess himself so intensely. Gary had been insistent about Misha’s grooming routine, but he didn’t leave Misha any choice in the matter. Without the Rapunzel hair, with his arms exposed by a tank top, and fair hair dusting his forearms, Misha finally felt more grown up. As if his skin was his own again.
“Oh, I’m not gonna get rid of your nice, healthy hair. You’ve been taking care of it,” said Lucky, and he started easing the strandswith a simple black comb.
The silence that settled between them made Misha choke up, and he was desperately trying to come up with something to talk about. “Soo … Your boyfriend’s Tooth, right? The VP here in Detroit?”
“Yep. And it’s thanks to me that all the members have fabulous hair,” said Lucky with pride as he switched on the trimmer and used it to cut some of Misha’s hair by pulling the buzzing device along the comb. “Tooth’s really amazing. We even have our own house now.”
