“Nice,” said Paul.
“You can say that again. And I’m an independent contractor for the station, so I can keep pulling in an income while we focus on the site. I don’t have to work full time for them if I don’t want to,” said Stephen as he walked to the living room. “Come on in, sit down.” He waved them over to join him.
“Should I take off my shoes?” asked Paul. He looked hilariously out of place amid the designer decorations that surrounded them.
“No,” said Stephen as he waved off Paul’s concern. “Don’t be silly. Come on in, have a seat.”
“I feel bad that you’re going to have to rent a van to haul us,” said Alma as she walked to the loveseat and sat down.
“I can ride my motorcycle if you want,” said Paul as he sat beside Alma.
“It’s no big deal,” said Stephen. “I went out and bought a ton of equipment to take with us, so it’s my fault.”
“Camera stuff?” asked Paul.
Stephen leaned forward and had a glint of excitement in his eyes. He was a handsome guy, and when he was happy his smile was endearing. “Even better. Rachel would kill me if she knew how much I spent on it, so don’t say anything.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the bedroom door was still closed. “I found a Paranormal Investigation company in Kentucky that was closing up shop, and I bought all of their old equipment.”
“What sort of stuff?” asked Paul.
“All sorts of cool things,” said Stephen. Alma was reminded of two men at Christmas comparing gadgets they’d been given. “An EMF meter, a thermometer, motion sensors, stationary cameras, night vision goggles…”
“Awesome,” said Paul.
Stephen smiled wide and nodded, encouraged by Paul’s appreciation. “They’re bad ass. I’ll let you check them out when we get to…”
The door to the bedroom opened and Stephen sat back in his seat, abruptly ending his excited recounting of his list of new toys.
“Hi,” said Rachel as she came out of the room. “Sorry I’m running late.”
“No problem,” said Alma.
Rachel looked exquisite, even in a simple pair of jeans and a sweater. Alma was suddenly ashamed of herself and looked down at her drab outfit. Rachel and Stephen were a different class of people from herself and Paul, and she felt incredibly out of place when with them.
“You must be Paul,” said Rachel as she came around the love seat to shake Paul’s hand.
“Hi.” Paul looked uncertain if he should stand up to greet her. He shook her hand and smiled, clearly as uncomfortable as Alma.
Rachel turned her attention to Alma and looked like she was greeting an old friend as she reached out to take her hands. “Alma! I can’t tell you how excited I am that you decided to come.” She took Alma’s hands and pulled her off the seat. “I am going to get you whatever you want today. Okay? We’re going to go bananas. Shoes, skirts, jewelry, mannies, peddies, anything you want.”
“You don’t need to do that, honestly,” said Alma.
“Yeah, babe,” said Stephen. “Let’s not spend everything we made the day after we made it.”
Rachel gave her husband a wry, knowing smirk. “This coming from the guy trying to hide four crates of stuff he bought off eBay in our storage locker.”
Stephen blushed and chuckled uncomfortably.
“Yeah,” said Rachel. “I know all about it, bucko. So zip it.” She turned back to Alma. “You and I are going to make a day of it. I’ll take you to my hair place, and they’ll set you up. By the end of the day you’ll feel like a new person.”
“When are we going to leave for Missouri?” asked Alma.
“We can leave tomorrow,” said Rachel. “He’s still got to get the van and I’m sure he’s going to want to play around with all of his new gadgets. We’ve got plenty of time. Right, babe?”
Stephen shrugged, aware that he wasn’t being given much of a choice in the matter. “Whatever you say, beautiful.”
“Paul, do you want to come with us?” asked Rachel, although her tone implied that she assumed he would hate to go along for the girly extravaganza.
“Shopping, hair styling, manicures,” said Paul. “That sounds absolutely,” he paused, “like the worst day ever.”
Rachel and Alma laughed.
“You’re welcome to chill here with me,” said Stephen. “We can test out all the new toys. We’ll fire up the grill and get some beer.”
Paul pointed at Stephen with a gracious grin. “Sounds like a plan.”
Stephen got off the couch and slapped Paul’s knee as he walked past. “Come on, I’ll show you the gear I got.”
Paul got up and Alma looked at him as Rachel was whisking her out the door. They smiled at each other and Paul blew her a kiss. Rachel had already pulled her out the door before Alma could reciprocate.
CHAPTER NINE
New Friends
March 10th, 2012
“I don’t know,” said Alma.
The stylist was a tall, thin gay man that Alma was fairly certain was wearing more foundation than she was. He had impossibly blue eyes, surely the result of designer contacts, and surgically plumped lips. His stereotypical lisp seemed exaggerated, but he knew how to make a girl feel good about herself, and he used his talents expertly.
“Listen, Miss Harper,” he said her name as if he adored the way it sounded coming off his tongue, “I’m here to make you happy. I’ll snip and clip whatever you want me too, but I promise that I know what I’m doing.” He held her long hair in one hand behind her as if putting it into a ponytail and leaned forward so that their cheeks were nearly touching. He looked at her in the mirror of his station. “I don’t charge two hundred a pop for a Super Cuts.”
Alma’s eyes widened. “Two hundred? Are you serious? Rachel,” she turned to look back at the reporter who was sitting across the room from the stylist’s station.
“Don’t say it,” said Rachel with her arms out to her side, fingers splayed as the polish dried. “This is my treat. Too late to back out now.”
“Oh my God,” said Alma. “I’ve never spent more than fifty dollars on a hair cut in my whole life. This is crazy.” She was more amused than exasperated and settled back in her chair, content to let Rachel pamper her if she wanted.
“No, darling,” said the stylist. “This is Laurelies,” he said the studio’s name with flourish. “And you know what they say about Laurelies, don’t you?”
“What’s that?” Alma was starting to appreciate the peek into a lifestyle she’d never enjoyed before.
“Laurelies gets the men between your thighs.”
“Julian.” Rachel chastised the stylist with her tone.
He pointed his silver comb at her. “You know it’s true, you slut.”
“I honestly don’t know why I continue to put up with you,” said Rachel.
Julian snickered and turned Alma’s chair so that she was facing Rachel. “Please, honey, you know you’ve always wanted to be my fag hag. Here, look at your friend and help me convince her that I’m right.” He held Alma’s hair to display the short look that he was hoping to achieve. “Wouldn’t she look amazing with short hair?”
Rachel nodded and said, somewhat unenthusiastically, “Sure, I guess so.”
“You guess so?” asked Julian, frustrated by Rachel’s passionless response. He spun Alma back around and looked at her through the mirror. “Trust me, honey. You’ve got sharp features and a long face. We want to puff you up a little, you skinny thing. We’ll cut the hair here,” he acted as if his fingers were scissors as he demonstrated, “just below the chin line. Then taper it up in back a little, to give you a sort of pixie, badass thing. The front will be longer, and I’ll show you how to thicken it up to give your face a little more oomph.” He thrust his hips along with the onomatopoeia.