Very Twisted Things
“This place comes highly recommended by Mila.” I nodded my head at one of the clients getting her hair cut. “Cyndi Lauper. See, classy.”
He arched a brow. “About as much class as a box of pink Zinfandel.” He teased, but I sensed the underlying tension. Things were strained between us, which wasn’t surprising considering he’d shown up at my door last night in a taxi and asked to stay the night. Part of me had been glad to see him—surprisingly thrilled—but another side of me wondered why he was here.
Then Sebastian had knocked on my door. He’d acted as if me lying about Geoff had hurt him somehow, yet this morning on my run I’d seen Blair leaving his house. I flinched, remembering how she’d strolled out of his house in what must have been Sebastian’s clothes. I’d darted behind a bush and hunkered down, watching as he opened her Porsche’s car door for her and then stood there as she drove away. He was the liar.
“You okay?” Geoff asked, looking at me as we walked to the sign-in desk. “Your face is green.”
“I’m fine,” I said. But I wasn’t. Part of me was nursing a broken heart, and I didn’t even understand it. “Anyway, Mila says this is the place to go when you want something unique.”
He grunted. “A venereal disease?”
“Be nice. Sebastian and Spider get their hair done here, too.”
He gaped at me. “Are you kidding me? I’ve read up on these guys. They’re your typical bad boy rockers, especially Spider.”
I groaned. “Don’t believe everything you read, Geoff. I’ve met them both, and while Spider does have some rough edges, I sense a good guy. Sebastian is incredibly talented. He’s made a living out of his music—all without a record label. You have to respect that.”
His smile slipped and his eyes narrowed. “You sound like his cheerleader. It’s annoying.”
“Stop being a jealous jerk. It doesn’t suit you.” I nodded my head at a Hispanic guy with a Mohawk. “That’s Steve, the guy Mila got me an emergency appointment with.”
He brushed imaginary lint from his shirt and sent Steve a lofty look. “I’d much rather see you at a luxury spa, preferably in Manhattan.” He took my hand. “Come on, there’s still time to get out of here. We can get on a plane and be in New York by dinner. I’ll even take you to Vesper’s—that Thai place you loved? It’s still there, just waiting.”
A block from my parents’ Upper East Side apartment, Vesper’s had been my favorite place. We’d met Geoff and his parents there several times over the years.
“First off, I don’t fly, and secondly, I have a hair appointment, so shut your fancy face and come with me.”
He laughed. “Okay.”
The receptionist led me over to Steve, who looked ominous with his six-inch Mohawk and ear gauges. Tattoos of skulls were splattered up his muscled arms.
I sat down in the chair, met Steve, and we talked about my hair. He snapped his fingers and two young girls scurried to stand on either side of him. “Ladies, this is V, a friend of the Vital Rejects. She wants a complete reboot. What do you think?”
Their eyes brightened.
“Ah, sexy Spiderman with the blue hair …”
“… black widow, come bite me …”
“… pierced his nipple once …”
I cocked an eyebrow at their excitement. “I take it they’re good customers?”
They’d continued.
“And Sebastian … dirty talking boy …”
“… god of thunder … be my hammer …”
“… best hair in town …”
I laughed as Steve hushed the girls, who erupted into giggles and left—something about getting foils and color.
“They’re a bunch of sluts.” He grinned good-naturedly. “You with either of those dudes? I promise it’s all in good fun.”
Geoff had stiffened at his question as he flipped through a magazine in a seat a few feet away. It was obvious from how territorial he’d acted last night and from the flowers he’d sent me—he wanted another try with me.
The receptionist came back and poured us two glasses of champagne and set them on a small table next to my chair.
“Let’s make a toast,” I said to Geoff as Steve went to the back to check on the color girls.
He set down his magazine and strolled over. I took him in, my eyes lingering on his designer jeans and golf shirt. He’d bulked up in the past two years, and it didn’t go unnoticed. His brown eyes glittered at my attention. I blushed. Caught.
“What are we toasting to?” he asked as he handed me a glass. I inhaled his aftershave, a spicy blend I’d bought for him on special occasions. I felt flattered he still wore it.
I nibbled on my lip. “I don’t know. Hope? Love? A good haircut?”
He took my glass from me and set it down. “Forget the toast. Let’s talk.”
I nodded. Steve was still in the back.
He sighed. “First off, I would have come out here sooner, but you weren’t ready. I gave you time, and as soon as I finished undergrad this past semester, the only thing I could think of was seeing you.”
I recalled the socialites. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been lonely.”
He shrugged. “I’m no monk. And judging by the sexual tension between you and rocker boy, you’re no nun.”