New World Order (War of the Fae: Book 4) (20 page)

Tim started reading my message out loud, helping me edit,
“Dear Mom.
 
What’s wrong?
 
Are you sick?
 
Do you meed me?
 
You have to change that to an ‘n’, Jayne.
 
Need, not meed.”

I clicked over and fixed it while he continued.

“
I hope you’re not sick.
 
Can’t Rick the total dick help you?”

“Jayne, I don’t think you should put that in there.”

“I know.
 
A girl can dream though.”
 
I went back and deleted the part of the message I really wanted to have in there.

“Can’t Rick help you?”

“Sign it: Love, Jayne,” urged Tim.

“Why?”
 
I was grumpy.
 
I did love her, but she didn’t make it easy.
 
I almost wanted to punish her and not say it.
 
Maybe use ‘sincerely’ instead.
 
Seeing Rick’s name in print had brought back many of the unhappy feelings that tended to crop up between my mom and me.

“Because.
 
If it’s really her, and she really needs you, you’ll feel bad if you’re mean.”

“No I won’t.”

Tim flew up into my face.
 
“Jayne, mommas are sacred.
 
Even when they screw everything up, they still deserve your love.
 
Without her, you wouldn’t be you.”

“Pfft.
 
Right.”

“Or look at it this way.
 
Without her being who she is, you wouldn’t be here with me today.
 
And we’ve both already agreed about how lucky you are to be my roommate.
 
So, hey.
 
What about that?”

I smiled at him, holding out my hand so he could settle himself in my palm in front of my face.
 
“You’re right.
 
I’m glad she’s an asshole.”

“That’s the spirit!” yelled Tim, smiling like a loon.
 
“Now put it in the email.
 
Love, Jayne.
 
Do it.”

I went ahead and followed Tim’s orders, realizing as I typed that I was doing a lot of that lately – letting this little squirt of a man boss me around.
 
I guess it wasn’t all bad.
 
He might be vain, goofy, and gassy – but he was pretty perceptive.
 
Pixies were good with more than electronics.

“Okay, all set,” said Tony, clicking three more times to shut his account off.
 
“Ready to go cut some hair?
 
I could use a trim too.”

“Are you serious?
 
Do you not remember the humiliation last time?
 
My skills got worse, not better, with practice.”

“It’s okay.
 
We have witches with brews and charms here.”
 
He smiled big at me.
 

I smiled back, shaking my head.
 
“Okay then.
 
Haircuts it is.”

“Um, Jayne?” asked Scrum, shyly.
 
“Would you mind doing mine too?”

I looked at him warily.
 
“Uh.
 
Yeah.
 
But you have to wash it first.
 
With shampoo.
 
Lots of it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.
 
Seriously.”

“Shampoo’s not good for your hair, you know.”

“Yeah, well, neither are lice or other creepy crawly things that avoid clean heads.
 
So that’s the price.
 
Shampooed hair or no haircut.
 
You choose.”

Scrum thought about it for a second and then said, “Fine.
 
I’ll go wash it while you do Spike’s and Tony’s hair.”

“Nicely done, Jayne Sparks, nicely done,” said Tim.
 
“I just might put an application into the pixie hall of fame with your name on it for that smooth move.”

“Is there such a place?”

“No.”

I laughed.
 
“Come on, spaz.
 
Let’s go.
 
Jayne’s House of Hair is now open for business.”

We all headed back to my room to start the makeovers, Spike already there and waiting with not only scissors and a comb, but also a cape and spritzer bottle filled with water.

I pulled Blackie and its strap and holster off my leg and threw it all on the bed, kicking my shoes off into a corner of the room.

“Okaaaay, batter up.
 
Who wants to be the first one to be Jaynified?”

Spike was my first victim.
 
And when I say victim, I mean
victim
.
 
He walked out of there looking like he had gotten into a fight with a chainsaw ... and lost.
 
Not only was his hair a mass of uneven chunks, way too short in some places and way too long in others, but I’d also nicked his ears not once, not twice, but three separate times.
 

He left the room wishing the next person in my chair good luck, as he headed off to find the nearest witch with some healing brews and hairdo spells.

Tony sat down in the chair next.

“Tony.
 
You can’t be serious.
 
You saw what I just did to Spike.”

“Never let it be said that wrathes aren’t bad mofos,” said Tim.
 
“You wouldn’t catch me in that chair after that chop job she just did on Spike.”

“Shush, Tim.
 
Go to bed.”

“What?
 
And miss all this entertainment?
 
Not on your life.”
 
He sat cross-legged on his bed, a front row seat from which to view my shame.

“Yeah, I know you’re worried you won’t do a good job,” said Tony, “but you’ve done mine before.
 
You know my head.”

I laughed.
 
“As if that’s going to make a single bit of difference.
 
Come on.
 
Get up.
 
I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.
 
I believe in you.”

“Tony, this is not an after school special.
 
Sucking at coiffing will not damage my self-esteem.
 
I promise, I don’t need to be good at cutting hair.
 
There are professionals out there for that.”

“I’m not leaving until you cut my hair.
 
So hurry up.
 
I’m tired.”

“Fine,” I said grouchily.
 
I knew that when Tony put his foot down, which he rarely did, he meant it.
 
The butthead was going to sit in that chair all night until I capitulated.
 
I started spritzing his hair to get it wet.
 
“But don’t blame me when it looks like a drunk, blind person did it.
 
I will not go down with this ship.”

Tony steadfastly refused to comment anymore, so I got down to business.

I started cutting and eventually got into a rhythm.
 
Tony was right about one thing – I did feel more comfortable with his head under my clumsy fingers.
 
There was a familiarity to it.
 
When I was done about fifteen minutes later, I viewed him from all angles.
 
“Hmmm.
 
Not bad, actually.”
 
I smiled.
 
“Take a look.”
 
I pointed to the mirror.

He looked at one side and then the next, turning as far as he could to see the back.
 
He smiled hugely at me, saying, “See!
 
I told you, you could do it!”

“Believe it or not, I agree,” said Tim, suitably impressed.

I rolled my eyes at both of them.
 
“Thanks, Tones and Tims.
 
Now move out of the way so I can do something about all this hair.”
 
Tony got up and stood off to the side, taking the chair with him, while I took a used towel, damp from my shower earlier in the day, and used it to gather the hair into a pile in the corner of the room.
 
I didn’t have access to a broom or dustpan, so it was going to have to stay there until Netter came in the morning to clean up.
 
I was probably going to have to give him double chocolate tokens to stay on his good side after this.

My door opened and in walked a very soggy-looking Scrum.
 
Gorm followed him in, moving past us to pick a spot on my floor to lie down.
 
Within minutes, his snores filled the room.

Tony put the chair back.
 
“Have a seat.”

Scrum sat down.
 
“I put myself in your hands.
 
Do whatever you want.
 
Something the girls will like.”

Tim started laughing, but I ignored him.

“I have to warn you – Spike left here in need of medical attention.
 
These scissors are pretty sharp.”

“I can take it.
 
Just don’t take my ears completely off.
 
I don’t think that will be good for finding a girlfriend.”

I laughed a little.
 
“Leave ears on head.
 
Noted.”

I looked at his hair, now drenched and hanging down from its normal puffy state.
 
It was actually pretty long this way.
 
I decided that he’d look good with short hair so I started chopping the hell out of it.
 
I used my fingers as a guide for length and left him about an inch of hair all over.
 
I used the tiny tips of the scissors to try and trim a close, straight line around the edges.
 
I wished I had my dad’s old mustache shaver for that part, but I did the best I could with what I had.

When I was finished cutting I dug around in my dresser for the hair gel I had in there for Tim.
 
He used the tiniest speck of it every day, which meant I had enough in there for about eight generations of pixies over several hundred years.
 
I knew he wouldn’t mind if I used it on Scrum, especially now that Scrum no longer had a gnome-head.

I ran my gelled fingers through his hair, pulling the pieces on top into spikes as best I could.
 
They laid themselves back down into gentle waves, but when I came around to the front, I could see that they suited him just fine.
 
I was a little surprised actually.
 
Scrum had gone from gnome-head to pretty darn-good-looking-head.
 
The shock must have shown on my face, because Scrum got a little worried look on his.

“What?
 
Is it bad?
 
Don’t worry, Jayne.
 
I won’t be mad.
 
I take all the blame.
 
Don’t be upset with yourself.”

“Pfft.
 
I’m not upset with myself.
 
I’m
proud
of myself.
 
Talk about a makeover.
 
Stand up and look at your bad self, Scrum.
 
Those she-fae better watch out.
 
We’ve got a lean, mean daemon machine on our hands.”
 
I was playing it up a bit, but it was fun – and not in a mean way, which I’m ashamed to say was sometimes too much fun for me.
 

Scrum stood up, brushing the hair from his lap into a pile as best he could.
 
I pulled the cape off him, as his eyes went to the mirror.
 
His hand reached up slowly and touched the side and then top, bouncing off the gelled shell that had started to set.

“Wow.
 
I ... like it.
 
I actually like it a lot.”
 
He turned his smiling face to me.
 
“Jayne, thanks so much.
 
It looks good!”

“Don’t act so surprised,” I said, flicking him with the comb.

“Well ... I have to admit ... I did see Spike out in the hallway after you were done with him.
 
So I was a little ... uh ... apprehensive.”

I stood there with my hands on my hips.
 
“So what’d you come in here for then, stupid?
 
You saw what I’m capable of!”

“Yeah, but ... I’d asked you to do it, so it wouldn’t have been very nice of me to back out.”

I shook my head at him.
 
“Tony.
 
What are we going to do with this child?”

Tony smiled, bending down to shake Gorm awake and get him standing.
 
They both began walking towards the door, Tony taking Scrum’s arm as he went by.
 
“I don’t know.
 
I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

I yelled at their backs as they went out into the hallway.
 
“Stop being so damn nice all the time, Scrum!
 
You’re going to get hurt!”