The Look of Love (11 page)

“I know what it isn’t. It isn’t you planning on making a life here.” She powered the window back up and drove home, leaving Gunnar by himself.

He put the phone back to his ear. “Look, I’m not leaving here until my mom has the surgery and she’s one-hundred percent.”

“Guns, you can’t do that. You have a contract.”

Gunnar could hear the tightness in his manager’s voice as though he talked to him through gritted teeth.

“I also have a family. When my career is over, my family will still be here.” Gunnar disconnected the call. He walked to the edge of the property and watched Eboni’s car lights disappear into the night.

Maybe he deserved the cold shoulder from her. He wouldn’t stop trying to regain her trust again.

Eboni stormed into the apartment she shared with her cousin and aunt and slammed the door behind her.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Craig shuffled out of the kitchen wearing his standard uniform of long denim shorts, a throwback basketball jersey, dingy sport socks, and sandals.

Her lazy cousin carried a large bowl filled with multicolored cereal and milk.

“Don’t start with me, Craig.” Eboni slammed her purse on the couch and ripped off her coat. “I had a rough day.”

“Who’s making all that noise out here?” A young woman padded out from one of the bedrooms. The dark-skinned woman wore one of Craig’s T-shirts and nothing else.

Eboni hoped she came from Craig’s room. Eboni hadn’t met this new woman Craig had in his life. She wondered how a man with no job could manage to meet and attract anyone.

“Cuz had a bad day.” Craig pushed his way past Eboni and plopped down on the couch. “Eb, this is Tryna. She’s going to be staying here for a little bit.”

Eboni glared at the woman with the micro braids slung over her shoulder. Before Tryna sat down next to Craig, Eboni snatched her purse and coat from the couch.

“What’s a little bit?” Eboni split her glare between the duo.

“Why?” Tryna screwed up her face.

“I need to know if I should be getting money from you and splitting the rent.” She turned her attention to Craig. “Or you can just pay her share.”

Craig paid no attention to Eboni. His stare remained on the TV behind her. “I think my mom’s social security check covers enough.” He smirked and nodded.

Eboni stayed with her long-suffering aunt and her cousin to make sure Craig didn’t rob the woman blind. Her Aunt Bettie had raised her after her mother passed away. She felt obligated to care for her. Too bad none of her other children felt the same way.

“Word on the streets is that your dumb-ass ex is back in town.” Craig glared at Eboni. “True?”

Eboni crossed her arms over her chest. “Gunnar is not dumb.”

She never thought she would be defending Gunnar.

“If he tries to jump me again like he did at the community center, I’ll straighten his ass out.” Craig scooped more cereal from the bowl and shoved it into his mouth.

Seeing Gunnar fighting her cousin had hurt Eboni to her core. Her love and her family had gone after each other with such hatred. For years, Craig had said that Gunnar jumped him for no reason. When she’d heard Gunnar say that he’d beat up someone who’d talked about his family, she’d started to rethink part of her resentment toward Gunnar.

“That was years ago, and the two of you were teenagers.” Eboni took off her shoes as she spoke to her cousin. “You can’t get over that after all this time?”

Craig didn’t wait until he’d swallowed his food. He said, “No. He used to walk around the neighborhood and stuff like he was hot shit because Queen adopted him. I wanted to knock him down a peg or two.”

Eboni shook her head. “God, Craig, grow up. He’s moved on. So should you.”

Even though she didn’t like Gunnar’s decision to leave, one thing she knew for sure. He’d never lied to her. Good or bad, he’d always told her the truth.

“Get a job and get a life.” Eboni stomped back to her bedroom.

“Mind your business!” Craig screamed after her.

Eboni stewed in her anger throughout the night and into the next morning. Going home to Craig and his new houseguest hadn’t helped her headache either.

She got dressed and headed out to the salon. When she pulled into the parking lot, she spotted Gunnar’s vehicle as she’d suspected she would. She got out and marched to the back door. If he wanted a second or third round with her, she would be ready.

As soon as she stepped into the salon, an unusual aroma hit her. She took in a deep breath and thought it smelled like roses. Until she saw the two huge bouquets sitting on the front desk, she wondered where the scent emanated.

Gunnar walked out of his mother’s office. As usual, he had his hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a plain blue T-shirt this time along with his jeans and black boots.

“Good morning.” His low voice rumbled over her.

“It’s morning.” She pointed to the flowers. “Who are they for?”

“One is for the group.”

Eboni poured herself some coffee. “Tillman will like that.” She laughed.

That brought a smile to Gunnar’s face. “The other is for you.”

She wanted to be impressed. She should have been impressed. She shook her head. “So you went to your mother’s flower shop and got a couple of vases of roses for free and think that that’s going to impress me.” She shrugged.

“Would it help to tell you I arranged them myself?”

As Eboni got closer to the arrangements, she saw signs of his handiwork. Broken stems left some rose buds drooping to the side. The baby’s breath all looked bunched to one side instead of spread out throughout the plants. The ribbon wrapped around the vase looked like her three-year-old cousin had tied it.

Eboni turned back to Gunnar.

He shrugged. “Gideon has a knack for those things. I wanted to show you and everyone else that I’m here to help. Although I can’t commit to the future, I’ll do whatever I can while I’m here.”

She bit her lip to keep from falling for his charms. “Thank you.”

“Wow.” Gunnar framed his face with his hands and dropped his bottom lip. “That must have hurt to say that.”

“Yes, it did. Don’t expect to hear that from me again to you.” She gave him a jab in his side as she headed to the front desk.

“I know I screwed up in the past. I’d like an opportunity to explain my actions. Will you please go out to dinner with me so that I can tell you what I was thinking?”

Eboni stared at him, trying to see if she could figure out his motive. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea. We work together and I’m cool with that. But we can’t do dinners or lunches.”

“What about breakfast?” His voice dropped to a dangerously low octave.

Eboni swallowed. “Let’s just concentrate on work.”

One by one, each employee showed up for work except for Shay. The closer it got to opening time, the more Eboni realized the flighty woman might be a no-show.

As of late, Shay had gotten better with getting to work on time. Looked like she’d started to slip back into her old habits.

“Where’s Shay?” Gunnar stood by Shay’s station.

Tisha shrugged and turned her back on him. Tillman and Monica exchanged glances.

“What’s that? You two know something?” Gunnar approached the duo.

“Shay does what Shay wants.” Monica left her glasses resting at the end of her bulbous nose. “We were lucky these past few months that she showed up to work at all, let alone on time.”

“I don’t know why Queen keeps her.” Eboni shook her head. “Yes, she does great work, but she has to be reliable.”

“She has a lot on her plate. Don’t judge her until you walk a mile in her shoes.” Tillman pointed to Monica with his curling iron.

“Oh, no.” Tisha covered her mouth with her small hand as she looked out the front of the building.

“What’s wrong?” Eboni asked. Then she turned to the front door. “Damn.”

Gunnar stared outside. “What’s up? Are you all talking about that woman?”

“That woman is the devil’s little sister. Shay is the only one who has managed to make her happy besides your mother. Neither one of them are here. Mrs. Pratt is going to raise holy hell up in here.” Monica rubbed her temple.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She can’t be that bad.” Gunnar went to the door and unlocked it. “Good morning.”

The short woman, who looked like she wore a gray wig under her large church hat, barreled into the salon. Tillman and Tisha turned their backs to her, pretending to busy themselves at their stations.

Eboni watched the ball of fire in her green velvet tracksuit march toward Shay’s station. When she got there and discovered Shay missing, she turned to the group.

“Where is she? Where’s my girl?” Mrs. Pratt stomped around the salon.

“Monica is trying to call her now.” Eboni peered down at Monica who only stared at Mrs. Pratt like an oddity. Eboni had to kick Monica’s chair to get the woman to move to action.

“Calling her right now.” Monica started dialing numbers.

“With the weather and road conditions, she may have had some car trouble or have been in an accident.” Eboni kept the smile on her face to keep the woman on her side.

No such luck.

“I have an appointment. I demand to get my hair done today.” The customer pulled off her hat, which removed her gray wig as well. She uncovered a wig cap that hid her real hair. “Where’s Queen Elizabeth?”

“In the hospital still.” Eboni spoke slowly and in a low tone.

In that moment, two other customers came in for Tillman and Tisha. Relief covered both of the stylists’ faces as they got their clients into their chairs.

After taking a deep breath, Eboni said, “I’d be more than happy to do your hair, Mrs. Pratt.”

The elderly woman assessed her from top to bottom. Then she shook her head. “Too much weave in your hair. You won’t know what to do with me.”

Eboni blinked at her blunt assessment. She didn’t think she had so much weaved-in hair that it would turn off customers. She felt the sting of embarrassment fill her cheeks.

“We can call you when Shay shows up if you don’t want to wait.” Eboni tried not to let this woman see how her words had bothered her.

“I am not leaving.” To prove her point, Mrs. Pratt occupied Shay’s chair. “Y’all had better figure something out.”

Gunnar stepped forward. “I’ll do your hair.”

Silence filled the salon. Even the other customers looked over at Gunnar as though he’d grown a second head.

He approached the woman. “But I’ll only do it if you apologize to this young woman here. You insulted her when she only tried to help you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So what’s it going to be?”

Mrs. Pratt’s mouth hung open until she gathered her wits about her to speak. “Who the hell are you?”

Eboni stood next to Gunnar as a show of solidarity. “Ma’am, this is Queen’s son, Gunnar. He’s here to help around the salon while she’s recovering.”

The customer stared at him for a moment before she pulled off her taupe-colored wig cap. “Do my hair.”

Gunnar sank his crossed arms deeper. “Not moving until you apologize.”

Eboni touched Gunnar’s arm. His muscles felt like steel coiled under his flesh. “She doesn’t have to do that.”

He turned to her. “She absolutely does. We don’t insult our customers. She had no right to be insulting to you or anyone else here.” He returned his attention to the woman. “What’s it going to be?”

Mrs. Pratt mumbled something under her breath before she glanced at Eboni. “Sorry.” Then she huffed before she returned her gaze to Gunnar. “Now will you do my head?”

“That’s better. Let me get you a towel and drape. Meet me at the sink.” Gunnar went to the closet and pulled out a pink cover-up for his client and a couple of towels.

Eboni and the rest of the staff as well as the clients watched Gunnar work. Like he’d done it a million times, he wrapped a towel around the back of Mrs. Pratt’s neck before lowering her onto the edge of the sink. He soaked her short gray hair, pumped some shampoo into the palm of his large hand and worked the cleanser into her hair until it formed into a white, sudsy lather.

As much as she didn’t want to stare, Eboni couldn’t break her attention. Not only had he managed to keep Mrs. Pratt quiet, he handled her like a true stylist.

After rinsing her hair, he applied a deep conditioner.

As he covered her hair with a plastic cap, she fussed at him. “I didn’t ask you to do a deep conditioner.”

“You also didn’t tell me how damaged your hair is.” He brought the short towel she had around her neck up to her ears and signaled for her to hold it for him. Then he wrapped her hair with a mesh netting head wrap, capturing the towel in the netting. He tied it off so that it protected her neck and ears.

“I’m tender headed. Don’t put the heat on high.” She sat under a bonnet.

Gunnar lowered it and adjusted some settings before engaging it. “I’ve got it on a cooler setting. You let me know if it’s too hot for you.”

The elderly woman nearly let a smile peek through before he walked away. He went to an empty station and prepared it. Eboni took that opportunity to approach him.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a low tone so that Mrs. Pratt, nor any of the other customers in the salon, could hear her.

“Doing a customer’s hair.” Gunnar didn’t stop moving as he set out a comb, brush, a spray bottle of a leave-in conditioner, and a hair cream. “The cart with the hair curlers still in the same spot?” Before Eboni could answer, he peered over her and spotted it in the corner.

Gunnar went to it and pulled it over to his station. His station. Since when did this mixed martial artist have a hair-styling section in a salon? In what universe did this happen?

Gunnar rinsed out the conditioner from Mrs. Pratt’s hair. After a roller set, he left the mature woman with silvery, crisp, shiny small curls over her head. She looked polished. She looked good. The style looked like something Queen Elizabeth would have done. Eboni couldn’t hide her astonishment.

“Finished.” Gunnar twirled his client’s chair so that she could look at herself in the wall-length mirror.

Mrs. Pratt admired herself after a small gasp escaped her lips. She raised her hand to touch her hair but stopped. “Beautiful work.” She stood and faced Gunnar. “I would expect nothing less from Queen’s boy.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded bill. While pressing the tip into his hand, she said, “You haven’t lost your touch.”