Sending Mrs. Harrisburg out the door after her weekly blowout, Jessie couldn’t help but laugh at how much had changed in the last seven days. From the outside, everything looked basically the same. Delilah’s Do was doing a brisk business, and Delilah herself had taken off early on a weeknight, leaving Jessie there to mind the shop and close up the place at the end of the night. Nothing too fancy.
But down the hall, where previously there had been an awkward out-of-towner giving not very helpful massages, there was Jessie’s…well. Calling Tex her boyfriend didn’t entirely feel right. Sure, they were spending most nights together, sure, he gave her some of the most mind-blowing orgasms she’d had in her life, but boyfriend felt more like “going out together on dates and meeting each other’s parents” not “plotting to avenge a murder, with a side of sex.”
Well, whatever he was to her, he was also gorgeous. Tall and lean, with corded muscles on his biceps and shoulders. Jessie had been more than a little concerned that Tex wasn’t going to take the whole thing seriously, but after she’d told Delilah that she might have found them a massage therapist, Tex had shown up with accreditations and certificates and licenses. Delilah had paid him for an hour’s massage, to test out his skills, and come out of the massage room absolutely glowing. “Hits all the right spots without even hinting at impropriety,” Delilah said with a big smile. “He’s hired. You’re sleeping with him, right?”
Jessie had felt her cheeks light up. “I don’t know why you’re assuming-”
“Oh, please,” Delilah had said, her smile widening. The older woman had been running the salon since Jessie was just a little kid, and it was generally agreed that she knew anything worth knowing in Castello. “Your eyes follow him like you’re a puppy and he’s a slice of bacon. And I’m not saying I don’t understand why; I’m a lesbian, not blind.” She nodded after a moment. “It’ll be better this way, anyway. You’ll keep him in line, and he won’t mess around with the resort kids and annoy everyone. I like it.”
Jessie had stuttered something about how it wasn’t like that, and Tex would keep himself in line. Delilah raised one impeccably sculpted eyebrow, and then turned on her heel and walked away, ostensibly to file some paperwork. It was hard to be irritated with someone who was twenty years your senior, and right.
Janis, her mother, had been calling regularly, trying to convince Jessie and Tex to come over for dinner. Jessie hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it, not yet. It would put some kind of official stamp on their relationship that she just wasn’t sure she was ready for. Tex didn’t seem to mind. At least, Jessie hoped he didn’t mind. It was hard to tell, sometimes; he was a master of keeping himself to himself. And of sweeping in to nip at her earlobe when she was asking pesky questions. She couldn’t always bring herself to make him stop. After all, what was the point? They hadn’t talked at all about what was going to happen after they avenged Danny’s death. And if she were honest with herself, how many guys who spent their free time riding around on motorcycles as outlaws really wanted to settle down and start a family? And as amazing as it felt, clinging to him as they road the mountains and highways around Castello, was that the life she wanted forever?
It was simpler to keep things casual, which meant keeping him and her mother far apart. Which, of course, was harder to manage than it sounded. Janis had asked Jessie to bring Tex over as soon as Jessie had mentioned him. She’d been coming up with reasons to avoid that reunion for days now. Her mother wasn’t going to put up with it for much longer, but Jessie couldn’t bring herself to face the day her mother would eventually ask “What ever happened to your boyfriend?” One of these days, Tex was going to ride that sexy motorcycle off into the sunset and disappear. And when that happened, Jessie had every intention of pretending that he’d never even existed. He was a sexy fantasy. Because the idea of having him and then having him disappear all over again made her a little nauseated.
Once Mrs. Harrisburg was on her way, Jessie checked the clock. Ten more minutes before she could lock the door. She glanced back into the massage room, and saw Tex wiping down the massage chair. She stood in the doorway for a moment, enjoying the flex and play of his forearms under his substantial tattoos as he carefully cleaned the chair of dust and sweat from his last client. He didn’t glance up at her, but the way his motions slowed and became more deliberate made her think he’d noticed her presence.
“How was your first day?” she asked.
“Not bad,” he said, without looking up. “Only had to swat one person’s hands away from the goods, so that’s nice. Last job I had in this profession, the happy ending was all but assumed.” He looked up; his face was neutral, but his eyes were laughing. “Never thought it’d be easier to get taken seriously as a biker than as a massage therapist.”
“It’s an interesting fallback career choice.”
He shrugged. “Everywhere you go, people want to relax. You can get jobs in high-end parlors, little fly-by-night places in strip malls, and people don’t tend to flinch if you say you’d like to be paid in cash. Plus, I like to work with my hands.”
His voice dropped a few notes lower and went straight to her cunt. She shivered a little, and his mouth bent up in a grin. “I’ve definitely noticed that you have a deft touch.”
He stood slowly, crossing the floor until he was invading her personal space. Not pushing, just present. “I’m glad you’ve noticed.” His breath ghosted over her neck as he leaned down to press a light kiss just below her earlobe, in a place that made her knees weaken every time. “But are you sure your sample size is big enough to really make that statement?”
“I mean.” Her voice cracked, and it took a second for her to clear her throat enough to speak. She would not grab him and ride him like a pony. She would not. “Having a big enough, uh, data set is important. Right? That’s what they call it?”
His throaty laugh vibrated over her flesh. “Yes, that is what they call it.”
She was just about to give up on being a good girl, and push him back onto that massage chair to find out what fun they could have on it, when she heard the front door bell jingle. She let her forehead drop onto his shoulder for just one moment before finding her professional charm. “Hi! I’ll be right there!”
“Aren’t we closed?” he asked.
“Delilah would fire me twice if I ever closed the front door before six. Cross your fingers and hope it’s something quick.” As she stepped away from him, she let her thigh brush against his cock, semi-rigid in the scrub pants he’d chosen for work. “And feel free to keep that ready for me.”
He let out a little growl as she stepped away from him, heading back into the main salon area.
A woman was standing over by the counter, rummaging through the sale products Delilah kept in the front desk. They were samples, products they’d used partway through and then decided to discontinue, and makeup that was left over from big events. She was model-thin, with bright blonde hair that was pulled up into an tight, high ponytail at the crown of her head. Artful curls dripped down from the tight tail in a way that looked completely accidental, and so had definitely taken forever to arrange. “Hi,” Jessie said again. “What can I do for you today?”
The woman turned, and Jessie was seriously impressed. The woman was masterful with makeup; everything looked completely natural, enhancing rather than covering, and giving her a dewy, fresh look that she probably hadn’t had on her own for a few years. Her eyes looked big, wide, and shockingly white, and her cheekbones were strong and elegant. Her skin was incredibly pale and totally unfreckled, something that was just unheard of in the California sun. Jessie loved SPF products, and still had a light, year-round tan on top of her naturally darker skin.
“Hi,” the woman said back. There was something about her voice that instantly grated; it took Jessie a minute to peg it. “I’m so sorry to come by so late, but I’m about to head out to dinner, and I just can’t get my hair styled the way I want. Do you have time to put it up in a formal twist for me?”
At least it wasn’t a color and cut, or something dramatic. The woman had a lot of hair, from what Jessie could see, but twists were only really hard when you were doing them on yourself. On someone else’s head, where you had the right leverage, it was nothing fancy at all.
But a formal twist didn’t match anything about what the woman was wearing. Dark skinny jeans, worn lighter in the thighs, and an off-the-shoulder t-shirt, the strap and top of her lacy bra showing, did not look anything like a woman who was going out to a fancy dinner. Her make-up, too, was understated for a twenty-something going out somewhere a twist would be a sensible hair choice. And there was something about the woman’s tone that made her think she was being played.
Jessie mentally shook the thoughts loose. None of that was the point. As far as she knew, the woman was a paying customer, and Delilah had strict rules about paying customers. Basically, you took their money, and you gave them what they wanted. The lady wanted a super formal twist with an incredibly casual outfit, and that was what she would get.
“Of course,” Jessie said. “What’s your time frame? Are you looking to have it washed and dried as well?” Please say no. Please. I’m too horny for that.
“No, definitely not,” the woman said. “We’d be here all night. And we both have places to be, I’m sure.” She laughed, and the laugh was false and mocking. Her eyes were cold. It made Jessie’s stomach turn inside out. She wanted more than anything to toss this woman out the door. Whatever came next wasn’t going to be a good thing.
But that wasn’t how Delilah’s Do operated, and Jessie needed to get her shit together in short order. “Right over here in the first chair,” she said. The woman crossed the floor on black stiletto heels, and flopped into the chair in a calculated way. It only took Jessie a moment to follow her.
Most clients, especially ones Jessie hadn’t met before, sat down in the chair and then fidgeted. They would set their purse on the nearby hook, or pull out their phone and adjust the volume of the ringtone, or reach for a picture that would show off what they wanted.
This woman sat in the chair, lounging like a lingerie ad, and her gaze was fixed, through the mirror, on Jessie. It was incredibly uncomfortable. The stare was too direct, too intense. Too much, entirely.
Jessie moved behind her, used the foot pedal to lift the salon chair up to the right height, and eased the ponytail holder out of the woman’s blonde hair. It had left a clear line; she’d have to spray it, maybe flat iron it to ease that out before she went on. The woman was still staring. “Sorry,” Jessie said, after a moment. “Do I know you from somewhere?” It was as close as she could come to actually asking the woman why the hell she was staring. Maybe she was just soft on personal boundaries? God knew that Jessie had met all kinds of people in her job, over the years, and she’d gotten along with most of them, too. She couldn’t exactly decide what it was that was throwing her off right now, but she also couldn’t shake the sense that it was all way too much.
“Well,” the woman said, “I’m pretty sure you’re fucking my boyfriend. Does that count?”
Jessie’s hands froze an inch from the woman’s blonde hair. The words dropped like rocks onto the floor, but the woman’s too-fake smile never faded, not even a smidge. “Excuse me?” Jessie said. Her voice cracked, and she had to clear her throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her brain was spinning a mile a minute. If Tex was cuckolding her—no, they’d never had a conversation, they’d never said they were exclusive, but he’d told her he’d been in love with her since they were kids, and that had to count for something, right? He couldn’t have said that, and then just be screwing some random other woman, right?
The woman laughed, planted her stiletto heel on the floor and spun her chair so she was facing Jessie again. She stuck out a hand, and Jessie shook it on pure reflex. “My name’s Vanessa,” the woman said. “And I appreciate you acting all innocent. I wouldn’t want to get caught out, screwing the guy who belonged to another woman. That’s just trashy. And you know, maybe it’s not your fault. He’s a naughty boy, after all, and he loves it when I catch him being bad and, punish him.”
This was the set up to a porn. The really nasty kind, too, with bad mikes and no condoms and everyone being horrible to each other. The women making out while the dude jerked off, and no one into it at all. Clearly. That was the only explanation that Jessie could think up, in the moment.
So she said something that she’d never said, after all these years working for Delilah. “I’m sorry, but I think you need to leave.” She was pleased with the steel she managed to put in her voice. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
The woman raised an eyebrow, and slouched down a little bit more in the salon chair, letting her knees fall just a little bit farther apart. There was no actual reason for it to be a more threatening position than the one she’d held just a moment before, but then, there was clearly nothing normal about this evening or this woman. “I don’t think so,” the woman said. “I am pretty sure we’re just getting started.”
Jessie froze for a long moment, completely unsure of what she was going to do. She could grab the woman’s—Vanessa’s—arm and try to lift her bodily out of the chair and push her out the door. She could go to the front desk and call the police. Have the woman arrested for—what? Well, it was a private business, she had the right to tell her to go, and she had to go, right? But if she was one of the rich women from the resort, that would end badly for Jessie, and Delilah would have her head, and—shit. She had no idea what to do next.
Tex came to her rescue. He appeared from the massage room, his brow tight and his hands at his sides. Jessie had no idea how much he’d heard, but his expression made her think he’d come out, ready to fight whoever was giving her a hard time. Because that was Tex. That was who he’d been as a kid, and that was who he still was now.
His eyes landed on Vanessa after just a moment—but then he froze, too. He stared at the blonde woman for a beat too long, and then his gaze shifted up to Jessie, and what she read in his eyes was pure, total panic. Which made her want to shriek, more than anything. Because the only reason for him to panic was if he was worried that Vanessa had told her something, and what the hell else could this random bitch have had to say other than a confession about her fuck-bunny?
Jessie fell back a pace, and Vanessa clued in to the fact that something was happening behind her. She spun again, her stiletto pulling double time, and when her gaze landed on Tex, she let out a little squeal. She launched herself out of the salon chair and crossed the floor in a flurry of tiny, contracted steps that made her ass wiggle in a delicious way. Lifted up by the heels, it was easy for her to wrap her arms around Tex’s neck and slap a kiss on him.
Jessie’s stomach flip-flopped, and she stepped back again. She dug the keys out of her skirt pocket and dropped them on the floor. “You two can lock up,” she said, and retreated. The only place to go was Delilah’s office, but she found she didn’t much care. She pushed into the tiny room, locked the door behind her, and sank into the corner, trying to fight back the tears that were struggling to take her over.
She’d planned on giving Tex up eventually, but this was way too soon.