Dirty Promise(7)

     



 

I have to get out of my head. All this guilt isn't doing anyone any good and it's just making me feel worse.

I close the book with a sigh and set it on my chest. Though Pride and  Prejudice was on Kia's bucket list, it's as though the book was tailor  made for my tastes. She was far less of a romantic. In fact, I'm pretty  sure she would roll her eyes at this point in the book. For me, Pride  and Prejudice is exactly what I need.

It's ten. Max's shop will have just closed for the night if I'm  remembering the sign of the store hours correctly. Setting aside the  guilt I've been feeling, I text him to tell him how much I love the book  and that it's unfortunate I won't be able to do much reading on account  of work.

We end up texting all night. We talk about our favorite movies and work  and our lives in general. I learn he always wanted to be an artist and  his childhood heroes were Da Vinci and Dali. He likes classical music  and death metal, and he learned sign language so he could communicate  with one of his regular customers who's deaf. He's nothing like I  expected. He's kind of wonderful, actually. There are no signs left of  the asshole who confronted me when I first walked into the shop. It's  like it was a totally different person.

I'm getting tired and my eyes are straining to read the blurry screen.  When I look at the time, it's after three in the morning, and I have to  be at work in four hours.

We say our goodbyes and I instantly fall asleep without even changing  out of my clothes. When my alarm goes off at 7am, I can barely open my  eyes. As miserable as I feel, getting to know more about Max was well  worth being a zombie the rest of the day. It's a good thing I'm a  cosmetologist and not a nurse or in some other vocation that involves  life or death situations-though I suppose some of the women whose hair  and makeup I do will disagree.

After I shower and dress, I go to work. I must look like hell without  makeup on. I decide to do it while I wait for my first client to come  in. It's kind of a requirement to wear it since that's literally my job.

I'm sitting at my station, priming my face when Melody, who is at the  station next to me, taps her long stiletto nails on her table to get my  attention. When I look at her, she has a smile stretched across her  face.

"What?" I ask.

We aren't great friends, but we've gotten closer since Kia passed. Everyone at work has been so supportive.

"You're glowing," she says.

Looking in the mirror, I don't see it. All I notice are the bags under  my eyes and my red and blotchy skin. "You're joking, right? I look like  shit," I say.

"Well, yeah, you do, but under all that shit you're glowing." I roll my  eyes and put on concealer to hide the bags. It looks much better. "Did  you get laid?" she asks.

I swear the girls in here have a sixth sense about these things.

My mind instantly goes to Max, his hard body, those smoldering eyes,  that panty-dropping smile of his. I force back the smile that's  threatening to mangle the dismissive expression I try to pull off.

"Oh my God, you totally did," she says. "You have to tell me everything."

While each of us works on our clients, I tell them the story about Kia  and the envelopes and about Max. How I didn't even like him at first  because he was a cocky jerk and how everything changed.

Our clients, who normally ignore our gossip and idle chatter, join in  the conversation, asking questions and giving their opinions. Everyone  is saying different versions of the same thing: he's a keeper.

Of course, I counter with, I don't even know him that well. Our  ‘relationship' could very well just be a booty call situation and I'm  reading far more into it than what's actually there. But the girls  aren't hearing it.

"Okay, that's enough," I say. "Time to talk about someone else."

I finish up on my client. It's a bride's maid look with red lips and a  halo eye. Despite the distractions, it turned out amazing.

"You look beautiful," I tell her and send her off to the next station so Tiana can do her hair.

As I'm putting my makeup back in my kit, I see movement in my mirror and  look up. Max is standing at the entrance of the store with Lydia, the  store manager. She stands behind him so he can't see her, and she is  jumping around, pointing at him to get the other girls' attention. It  works and they look kind of confused until he walks toward me.         

     



 

My heart is beating a mile a minute. I forget to breathe and my head  gets light and I start to sway, feeling like I will pass out. I don't  know why I'm so nervous to see him again. Maybe because he's on my turf  and I know everyone is going to have something to say about it. What is  he even doing here? I mentioned where I work in one of our texts, but I  didn't think he was really paying attention because he didn't say  anything about it after. Clearly, he was. He must have looked up the  address.

I can feel my co-workers' glittery eyes watching my every move-and his.  He can probably feel it too, which would explain the shy smile and the  flushed cheeks.

"Hi," he says when he's standing in front of me.

"Hi."

I want to give him a hug, but are we there yet? I'll wait for him to make the first move when it comes to PDA.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, making sure to lift my voice so he knows it's a happy surprise.

"I was hoping I could take you out to lunch."

The girls around me make swooning sounds. I try to ignore them.

My lunch break isn't for another hour and I have a client coming in any minute. "Oh, I-"

"Of course she can," Lydia says, interrupting me. "Jaimie can cover your next client, right Jaimie?"

All conspiratorial smiles, Jaimie says, "Of course I can."

I love these women.

I gather my purse. On our way out, I get enthusiastic thumbs up and  girls mouthing the words, "he's so hot". They don't even know the half  of it.

We ride in his jeep with the top down. It's a good thing I wore my hair  in a sloppy bun today or my hair would be all over the place. I like  riding beside him, his tattooed arms resting over the steering wheel,  people glancing at us each time we pull up to a stop light. He lifts his  other arm, draping it over the back of my seat, fingers caressing the  back of my neck, causing me to shiver despite the warm day.

We go to a brightly colored little Mexican restaurant. I've lived in  this town my whole life and never tried any restaurants that weren't  chains. Kia was always on me about being more adventurous, but I never  listened. I will now-even if that starts with eating at new places.

"I was surprised to see you today," I say.

"Really?"

"Well, yeah. I barely mentioned where I work."

"I'm an artist. I notice details."

The waiter comes and takes our orders. I try something completely random  on the menu that I can't even pronounce. Max gets the same thing. I  guess we're both feeling adventurous today.

"So," he says, sipping his beer. "I was thinking we should go out tomorrow."

I pause midway to my straw. Is he asking me on a date?

"Okay."

"Do you like art?"

"Doesn't everyone? I mean, I don't know much about it, but I like to look at it."

"One of my employees is having an art exhibition downtown. We should check it out."

My nerves rise up like a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. My mind is  spinning a mile a minute. I'm sure his friends will be there. Does he  plan on introducing me? How will he introduce me? Friend, acquaintance,  the chick he's sleeping with? It shouldn't be that big of a deal but for  some reason, it feels huge.

"What should I wear?" I ask.

"Something nice."

We eat our food and the conversation comes naturally. I manage to make  him laugh, which is the most wonderful sound. Again, it makes me wish I  were funnier just so I can hear it all the time. Next trip to the book  store, I'm getting a comedy how-to book.

As we're leaving, I grab my purse and my copy of Pride and Prejudice  falls out. He picks it up off the ground for me and looks at the spot  where my bookmark is placed.

"You've made some progress," he says, handing it back to me.

I put it in my purse. "Not as much as I'd like, but my work schedule  makes it difficult me for me to put a real dent in it during the week."

"You can always come over after work and I can read to you," he says with a sly grin.

I match his flirty tone. "Not a bad idea."         

     



 

If there were more time, I would've dragged him back to his apartment,  but since Jaimie was already covering me, I didn't want to push my luck  by being late. He takes me back to the salon. Before I can get out of  the jeep, he reaches for me and pulls me into a deep kiss in the parking  lot. The wall-to-wall windows of the salon give my co-workers the best  seats in the house and I feel their eyes all over us.

"I'll pick you up at seven," he says when we finally come apart.