I was feeling kind of roasted under the dryer when the timer binged. Jarvis got me out from under it and set me back in his chair. After consulting with Janice, he whipped his preheated curling iron from a sort of holster mounted on the wall, and painstakingly arranged my hair in loose curls trailing down my back. I looked spectacular. Looking spectacular makes you happy. This was the best I’d felt since Bill had left.
Janice came over to talk every moment she was able. I caught myself forgetting that I wasn’t Alcide’s real girlfriend, with a real chance of becoming Janice’s sister-in-law. This kind of acceptance didn’t come my way too often.
I was wishing I could repay her kindness in some way, when a chance presented itself. Jarvis’s station mirrored Janice’s, so my back was to Janice’s customer’s back. Left on my own while Jarvis went to get a bottle of the conditioner he thought I should try, I watched (in the mirror) Janice take off her earrings and put them in a little china dish. I might never have observed what happened next if I hadn’t picked up a clear covetous thought from the rich lady’s head, which was, simply, “Aha!” Janice walked away to get another towel, and in the clear reflection, I watched the silver-haired customer deftly sweep up the earrings and stuff them into her jacket pocket, while Janice’s back was turned.
By the time I was finished, I’d figured out what to do. I was just waiting to say good-bye to Jarvis, who’d had to go to the telephone; I knew he was talking to his mother, from the pictures I got from his head. So I slid out of my vinyl chair and walked over to the rich woman, who was writing a check for Janice.
“ ’Scuse me,” I said, smiling brilliantly. Janice looked a little startled, and the elegant woman looked snooty. This was a client who spent a lot of money here, and Janice wouldn’t want to lose her. “You got a smear of hair gel on your jacket. If you’ll please just slide out of it for a second, I’ll get it right off.”
She could hardly refuse. I grasped the jacket shoulders and gently tugged, and she automatically helped me slide the green-and-red plaid jacket down her arms. I carried it behind the screen that concealed the hair-washing area, and wiped at a perfectly clean area just for verisimilitude (a great word from my Word of the Day calendar). Of course, I also extracted the earrings and put them in my own pocket.
“There you are, good as new!” I beamed at her and helped her into the jacket.
“Thanks, Sookie,” Janice said, too brightly. She suspected something was amiss.
“You’re welcome!” I smiled steadily.
“Yes, of course,” said the elegant woman, somewhat confusedly. “Well, I’ll see you next week, Janice.”
She clicked on her high heels all the way out the door, not looking back. When she was out of sight, I reached in my pocket and held out my hand to Janice. She opened her hand under mine, and I dropped the earrings into her palm.
“Good God almighty,” Janice said, suddenly looking about five years older. “I forgot and left something where she could reach it.”
“She does this all the time?”
“Yeah. That’s why we’re about the fifth beauty salon she’s patronized in the past ten years. The others put up with it for a while, but eventually she did that one thing too many. She’s so rich, and so educated, and she was brought up right. I don’t know why she does stuff like this.”
We shrugged at each other, the vagaries of the white-collar well-to-do beyond our comprehension. It was a moment of perfect understanding. “I hope you don’t lose her as a customer. I tried to be tactful,” I said.
“And I really appreciate that. But I would have hated losing those earrings more than losing her as a client. My husband gave them to me. They tend to pinch after a while, and I didn’t even think when I pulled them off.”
I’d been thanked more than enough. I pulled on my own coat. “I better be off,” I said. “I’ve really enjoyed the wonderful treat.”
“Thank my brother,” Janice said, her broad smile restored. “And, after all, you just paid for it.” She held up the earrings.
I was smiling, too, as I left the warmth and camaraderie of the salon, but that didn’t last too long. The thermometer had dropped and the sky was getting darker by the minute. I walked the distance back to the apartment building very briskly. After a chilly ride on a creaky elevator, I was glad to use the key Alcide had given me and step into the warmth. I switched on a lamp and turned on the television for a little company, and I huddled on the couch and thought about the pleasures of the afternoon. Once I’d thawed out, I realized Alcide must have turned down the thermostat. Though pleasant compared to the out-of-doors, the apartment was definitely on the cool side.
The sound of the key in the door roused me out of my reverie, and Alcide came in with a clipboard full of paperwork. He looked tired and preoccupied, but his face relaxed when he saw me waiting.
“Janice called me to tell me you’d come by,” he said. His voice warmed up as he spoke. “She wanted me to say thank you again.”
I shrugged. “I appreciate my hair and my new nails,” I said. “I’ve never done that before.”
“You’ve never been to a beauty shop before?”
“My grandmother went every now and then. I had my ends trimmed, once.”
He looked as stunned as if I’d confessed I’d never seen a flush toilet.
To cover my embarrassment, I fanned my nails out for his admiration. I hadn’t wanted very long ones, and these were the shortest ones Corinne could in all conscience manage, she had told me. “My toenails match,” I told my host.
“Let’s see,” he said.
I untied my sneakers and pulled off my socks. I held out my feet. “Aren’t they pretty?” I asked.
He was looking at me kind of funny. “They look great,” he said quietly.
I glanced at the clock on top of the television. “I guess I better go get ready,” I said, trying to figure out how to take a bath without affecting my hair and nails. I thought of Janice’s news about Debbie. “You’re really ready to dress up tonight, right?”
“Sure,” he said gamely.
“ ’Cause I’m going all out.”
That interested him. “That would mean . . . ?”
“Wait and see.” This was a nice guy, with a nice family, doing me a heavy-duty favor. Okay, he’d been coerced into it. But he was being extremely gracious to me, under any circumstances.
I ROLLED OUT of my room an hour later. Alcide was standing in the kitchen, pouring himself a Coke. It ran over the edge of the glass while he took me in.
That was a real compliment.
While Alcide mopped up the counter with a paper towel, he kept darting glances at me. I turned around slowly.
I was wearing red—screaming red, fire engine red. I was going to freeze most of the evening, because my dress didn’t have any shoulders, though it did have long sleeves that you slid on separately. It zipped up the back. It flared below the hips, what there
was
below the hips. My grandmother would have flung herself across the doorsill to keep me from going out the door in this dress. I loved it. I had got it on extreme sale at Tara’s Togs; I suspected Tara had kind of put it aside for me. Acting on a huge and unwise impulse, I’d bought the shoes and lipstick to go with it. And now the nails, thanks to Janice! I had a gray-and-black fringed silk shawl to wrap around myself, and a little bitty bag that matched my shoes. The bag was beaded.
“Turn around again,” Alcide suggested a little hoarsely. He himself was wearing a conventional black suit with a white shirt and a green patterned tie that matched his eyes. Nothing, apparently, could tame his hair. Maybe he should have gone to Janice’s beauty shop instead of me. He looked handsome and rough, though “attractive” might be a more accurate word than “handsome.”
I rotated slowly. I wasn’t confident enough to keep my eyebrows from arching in a silent question as I completed my turn.
“You look
mouthwatering
,” he said sincerely. I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“Thanks,” I said, trying not to beam like an idiot.
I had a trying time getting into Alcide’s truck, what with the shortness of the dress and the highness of the heels, but with Alcide giving me a tactical boost, I managed.
Our destination was a small place on the corner of Capitol and Roach. It wasn’t impressive from the outside, but the Mayflower Cafe was as interesting as Alcide had predicted. Some of the people at the tables scattered on the black-and-white tile floor were dressed to the nines, like Alcide and me. Some of them were wearing flannel and denim. Some had brought their own wine or liquor. I was glad we weren’t drinking; Alcide had one beer, and that was it. I had iced tea. The food was really good, but not fancy. Dinner was long, drawn-out, and interesting. Lots of people knew Alcide, and they came by the table to say hello to him and to find out who I was. Some of these visitors were involved in the state government, some were in the building trade like Alcide, and some appeared to be friends of Alcide’s dad’s.
A few of them were not law-abiding men at all; even though I’ve always lived in Bon Temps, I know hoods when I see the product of their brains. I’m not saying they were thinking about bumping off anyone, or bribing senators, or anything specific like that. Their thoughts were greedy—greedy of money, greedy of me, and in one case, greedy of Alcide (to which he was completely oblivious, I could tell).
But most of all, these men—all of them—were greedy for power. I guess in a state capital, that lust for power was inevitable, even in as poverty-plagued a state as Mississippi.
The women with the greediest men were almost all extremely well groomed and very expensively dressed. For this one evening, I could match them, and I held my head up. One of them thought I looked like a high-priced whore, but I decided that was a compliment, at least for tonight. At least she thought I was expensive. One woman, a banker, knew Debbie the-former-girlfriend, and she examined me from head to toe, thinking Debbie would want a detailed description.
None of these people, of course, knew one thing about me. It was wonderful to be among people who had no idea of my background and upbringing, my occupation or my abilities. Determined to enjoy the feeling, I concentrated on not speaking unless I was spoken to, not spilling any food on my beautiful dress, and minding my manners, both table and social. While I was enjoying myself, I figured it would be a pity if I caused Alcide any embarrassment, since I was entering his life so briefly.
Alcide snatched the bill before I could reach it, and scowled at me when I opened my mouth to protest. I finally gave a little bob of my head. After that silent struggle, I was glad to observe that Alcide was a generous tipper. That raised him in my estimation. To tell the truth, he was entirely too high in my estimation already. I was on the alert to pick out something negative about the man. When we got back in Alcide’s pickup—this time he gave me even more help when he boosted me up to the seat, and I was pretty confident he enjoyed the procedure—we were both quiet and thoughtful.
“You didn’t talk much at supper,” he said. “You didn’t have a good time?”
“Oh, sure, I did. I just didn’t think it was a real good time to start broadcasting any opinions.”
“What did you think of Jake O’Malley?” O’Malley, a man in his early sixties with thick steel-colored eyebrows, had stood talking to Alcide for at least five minutes, all the while stealing little sideways glances at my boobs.
“I think he’s planning on screwing you six ways from Sunday.”
It was lucky we hadn’t pulled away from the curb yet. Alcide switched on the overhead light and looked at me. His face was grim. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“He’s going to underbid you on the next job, because he’s bribed one of the women in your office—Thomasina something?—to let him know what you all’s bid is. And then—”
“What?”
I was glad the heater was running full blast. When werewolves got mad, you could feel it in the air around you. I had so hoped I wouldn’t have to explain myself to Alcide. It had been so neat, being unknown.
“You are . . . what?” he asked, to make sure I understood him.
“Telepath,” I said, kind of mumbling.
A long silence fell, while Alcide digested this.
“Did you hear
anything
good?” he asked, finally.
“Sure. Mrs. O’Malley wants to jump your bones,” I told him, smiling brightly. I had to remind myself not to pull at my hair.
“That’s good?”
“Comparatively,” I said. “Better to be screwed physically than financially.” Mrs. O’Malley was at least twenty years younger than Mr. O’Malley, and she was the most groomed person I’d ever seen. I was betting she brushed her eyebrows a hundred strokes a night.
He shook his head. I had no clear picture of what he was thinking. “What about me, you read me?”
Aha. “Shape-shifters are not so easy,” I said. “I can’t pick out a clear line of thought, more a general mood, intentions, sort of. I guess if you thought directly at me, I’d get it. You want to try? Think something at me.”
The dishes I use at the apartment have a border of yellow roses
.
“I wouldn’t call them roses,” I said doubtfully. “More like zinnias, if you ask me.”
I could feel his withdrawal, his wariness. I sighed. Same old, same old. It sort of hurt, since I liked him. “But just to pick your own thoughts out of your head, that’s a murky area,” I said. “I can’t consistently do that, with Weres and shifters.” (A few Supes were fairly easy to read, but I saw no need to bring that up at this point in time.)
“Thank God.”
“Oh?” I said archly, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “What are you afraid I’ll read?”
Alcide actually grinned at me before he turned off the dome light and we pulled out of our parking space. “Never mind,” he said, almost absently. “Never mind. So what you’re going to be doing tonight is reading minds, to try to pick up clues about your vampire’s whereabouts?”