Rustic Hearts

Sophie

 

“I want a change. I was thinking maybe an ombre from dark to medium to platinum. What do you think?” I look up to see Janelle staring at me in the mirror with her fingers in my long blonde hair.

“An ombre, you say?”

“Yes. Why? You do know how to do an ombre, right?”

I should have asked before I came in. My hair is in desperate need of a trim, and Dallas brought me here with the promise that Janelle was a master of all things hair.

“Sure. I’ve seen it done before at a hair show one year. I’ve never had a client ask for it before though.” She shrugs.

“Do you think you could pull it off?”

“Honey, I can pull off anything, but, um … are you sure you want to do that craziness to this beautiful mane you have?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I think it’s a little silly to tri-color your hair. Plus, you’d be stripping all the color out, and that is just damaging it for no good reason. Your natural hair color is gorgeous. Do you know how many women come in here, asking for this exact shade of blonde? If you want my opinion, I would just add a few highlights around your face to accent that. But, hey, it’s your head, and you’ll be the one who has to live with it. There are always hats.”

I frown at her in the mirror. I’m not entirely sure if she’s trying to talk me out of it because she has no confidence in her ability to pull it off or because she honestly thinks I’ll look ridiculous.

I turn to Dallas, who is flipping through a magazine. “What do you think, Dal? Should I do the ombre or highlights?”

“Do the ombre if you want to look like a freaking unicorn walking down Main Street,” she says without looking up from her page.

Great. The last thing I need is to stick out any more around here. I’ll just have to shelve that idea until I return home to New York.

“Fine, Janelle. Please give me highlights and a trim.”

“You got it, darlin’.” She gets the color mixed and the foil ready, and then she begins the interrogation. “So, I hear you’re helping your daddy get everything up-to-date out at the ranch.”

Word sure travels fast in this town.

“Yes, trying to anyway.”

“I’m sure his stubborn ass is having to be pulled, kicking and screaming, into the twentieth century.”

“Twenty-first.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s the twenty-first century.”

“Already?”

“Yes, Janelle, for about nineteen years now,” Dallas chimes in.

“Wow, time flies,” she muses.

Dallas rolls her eyes at me in the mirror, and I giggle.

“Honey, I’m real sorry about your grandma. She’s sure going to be missed around here.” She shakes out a cape that has seen better days and ties it around my neck.

“Thank you,” I reply.

“I bet it’s surreal, being back at the ranch. Everyone treating you nice?”

“Sure thing.”

“How’s that Braxton Young doing?”

“Still young enough to be your son,” Dallas answers for me.

“But he’s not,” she whispers in my right ear.

“He’s fine, I guess. Not much of a talker. Kind of ornery. I swear, he’s a bigger pain in the ass when it comes to change than Daddy is.”

“He might be an ass, but what a fine ass it is. Too fine to be out there on that ranch, all alone. People are starting to talk, if you know what I mean,” she says as she starts dividing my hair into sections, adding color and wrapping it in foil.

“No, we don’t know what you mean. Do tell.” That finally gets Dallas’s attention enough to put the magazine down and join the conversation for real.

“Oh, you know, every girl in this county has been trying to catch his eye for years, and he blows everyone off. Folks are starting to wonder if he bats for the other team.”

“Are you implying you think Braxton is gay?” I ask.

“Well, the possibility has been considered,” she admits.

“That’s insane. He is not gay,” I state matter-of-factly.

“And how do you know that for sure?” Janelle asks without looking up.

I can tell there is more to her question than the one she asked.

I shrug. “I just do. I mean, there is nothing wrong with being gay. I went out on a great date with a gay man before I left New York.”

“Wait. What?” Dallas interrupts.

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.” I look back up at Janelle. “Braxton is not gay though.”

“You said that. Now, how do you know that he’s not?”

Because of the way he looks at me and the way he’s touched me. Because a woman knows when a man is attracted to her; that’s how, I think but do not say.

“Just call it intuition.”

“Uh-huh. You heard her, Janelle. Intuition,” Dallas repeats as she digs her elbow into Janelle’s side, making her drop the color brush.

I give her a shut the fuck up look in the mirror, and she sticks her tongue out at me.

She and Janelle give each other a wicked smile that I do not miss.

Great, just what I need. Janelle’s Big Hair Beauty Salon is the town gossip center. It’s practically TMZ for Poplar Falls. The last thing I want is to be the topic of any conversations that take place within these walls.

We arrive back at the ranch to find Madeline in the porch swing, reading.

“Hi, girls. Don’t you both look lovely?”

“Janelle gave us both a tune-up this morning,” Dallas tells her as I take a seat on the steps.

“What are the two of you getting into this afternoon?”

“I have to pick Beau up from school in an hour, but we’re going out to blow off some steam later,” Dallas answers then turns to me, “by the way, you’re driving tonight, Soph. I call dibs on drinking too much and showing your ass.”

I laugh. “I can’t be your DD, Dallas. I don’t have a driver’s license.”

Her mouth drops open, and her eyes go wide. “What do you mean, you don’t have a driver’s license?”

I shrug. “I’ve never needed one.”

“You’re joking. How do you get around?”

“In the city, you take the subway or a taxi. Most apartments don’t come with anywhere to park a car, and nobody wants to drive in Manhattan traffic anyway. We leave it to the insane cab drivers.”

“You mean, you pay someone to take you everywhere? Work? The grocery store? Everywhere?”

“Sure. Or we walk. Depends on the distance and the weather.”

“That’s the craziest shit I’ve ever heard. Don’t you think, Mrs. L.?”

“It’s different that’s for sure. Braxton and Elle couldn’t wait to get their license. They were at the DMV the second the doors opened the day they turned sixteen,” Madeline agrees.

“Really? I guess we don’t pay it any attention. It’s just the way it is.”

“It’s like you come from Mars or something.”

“I’ve felt that way a time or two myself the last couple of weeks.”