Keep Coming Back To Love. Christa Maurice
he was going to front the hottest band in the area, he needed to have the confidence to charm Satan into doing good deeds.
He had the clothes back out in a few minutes, paid, and headed for the salon. After he left, Candy leaned against the desk. Lots of guys hit on her here. Some of them she’d even dated. She’d never let one kiss her though. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to have let him use his mother’s credit card, but if he was going to steal a credit card, he’d have gone for Master Card, Mr. Visa or Ms. Discover, not a department store card that confined him to a place mainly catering to up and coming professionals, soccer moms, and blue-haired old ladies.
Candy shook herself. She had a little more than an hour between now and the end of her break to take in the seams on this shirt and deliver it. With more time and a sewing machine, she’d have deconstructed the whole thing, but she’d never figured out how to fit her sewing machine into her purse. If she had, she could have made a lot more money and a lot more sales for the store, tailoring between customers.
The phone rang. “Who do you think I am, Doug Henning?”
“Jody, if anybody can make him look good, it’s you.” Candy picked the first side seam out and smoothed the fabric out on the desk. If she could take it in enough at the waist, the stripes would make it look like he had shoulders. A gym. The boy needed a gym desperately.
“Then nobody can make this dork look good.”
“Trust me. All he needs is the visual and that dork will be a swan.”
“To get a swan you have to start with some kind of bird. You sent me a daddy longleg spider.”
Daddy longleg spider? He didn’t look like a spider. Tyler was adorable and sweet and pretty damn charming already. With a little work, well, Jon Bon Jovi had better start thinking about his pension. “Ask him to sing for you.”
“I’m going to have to take two inches off to get rid of the split ends. I think he’s been washing his hair with bar soap.”
“Ask him to sing.” Candy searched the desk. Somebody must have thrown out the pins she was hoarding. Paper clips would have to do.
“Fine. I’ll see what I can do, but Gina’s freaking out. His skin looks like he’s been beaten with a bag of nickels. A dirty bag.”
Ouch. No fair. They better not be saying this stuff in front of him. It wouldn’t do anything for his confidence. “So you can start by washing his face. I’ll be up there in a little while with his clothes. I have to do a little alteration for him.”
“Fine. He’s out of wash anyway. See ya.”
Candy hung up the phone and went to work on the shirt.
“Hi there. I didn’t know you did alterations here.”
Candy glanced up. Middle aged Romeo starting to gray. He’d be good for at least a hundred bucks. “Well, only for very special customers. Can I help you find something?” She arched a little to show off the assets without pausing in her tailoring.
“Maybe you can. Unless you’re busy.”
“I can multitask.”
“Okay. I need a couple of new shirts for work. My wardrobe is looking stagnant and the clients are starting to drift.”
“Really? What do you do?” Candy tucked her needle away. She had time. Even if she had to skip dinner, she could have one shirt done by the time Jody was finished.
“Advertising and public relations.”
“So you need something fresh.” She walked around the desk editing her original assessment of his potential. If he needed a new look for work, she might get him for a couple hundred, which would secure her lead over that bitch in juniors. “Let’s see what we can do.”
Forty-three minutes later, Candy skidded through the doors of the salon. Tyler sat in a chair with highlight foils on his hair, green goo on his face, and a copy of People magazine in his hands, chatting with the little old lady next to him.
Jody shuffled over, slouching as though she’d been breaking rocks all day. “I am a miracle worker. Next time you want me to rescue somebody, give me six months’ lead time so I can trim and style over time instead of doing damage control.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“He’s got an amazing voice though. He had the old cow in the chair next to him about in tears because he sang ‘Moon River.’”
“Good, good.” Candy headed for the chair. “How’s it going, Tyler?”
“Great. This is fantastic. I thought I’d be buying a shirt or something today.”
“You need to look good for your big audition.” The lady next to him patted his hand. “He’s going to be famous. I know it. You better hang onto him, young lady.”
Candy glanced at Tyler to see how he was taking the optimism, but the facial covered most of his reaction. He rolled his eyes, but that could be anything. “I’m sure he will be. Hey, I got this shirt done for you. Can you try it on under the smock to make sure it fits?”
“I’ve got a T-shirt on. Is that okay?”
Jody was right, next time they really needed a head start on these emergencies. “Okay, never mind. We’ll have to cross our fingers. I was kinda talking while I was finishing it up.”
“Who were you talking to?”
“A customer. He’s got me tailoring five shirts for him to pick up next week.”
“Do you do this for everybody?” Tyler’s eyes narrowed under the mask. Already possessive. Good.
“No, but he saw me working on yours and asked if I could do his. Decent money, too.” Really decent. The college fund was looking more hopeful all the time.
A timer dinged and Jody pushed her out of the way to poke at Tyler’s hair. “Time to rinse. Cross everything that this works.”
Gina edged in and touched the facial mask with her fingertips. “Try not to get this wet. It needs to dry completely before we take it off.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Candy checked her watch. Who needed food? “I better get back. Try the shirt on before you go so I can fix it if I have to.”
As she hurried out, she took one last look back. Tyler was in the rinse chair with Jody washing the dye out of his hair while trying not to get the facial wet. Hopefully he’d look decent once he got all that stuff off. Jody was good. Still in beauty school at the county Vo Tech, but she had good instincts. Hopefully.
* * * *
Tyler slithered through the kitchen door as quietly as possible. He wished he could burst through the front crowing about how he’d met this great girl and got in the band all in the same day, but Dad was home. Probably should have climbed up the garage drainpipe and in through his bedroom window, but that would have meant not eating again tonight.
His mother walked in while he was rummaging through the fridge.
“How did it go?” she whispered. He stood up and her mouth fell open. “What happened to your hair this time?”
“I got in the band.”
“What happened to your hair?”
Tyler touched his hair. It felt less like wire than usual. The girl at the salon had tortured him about using the right stuff when he washed it and conditioning regularly. Have to start using his sister’s shampoo. “I met this girl and she thought it would help and it did. I got in the band.”
“That’s great, honey.” Anxiety bracketed her eyes. “Your father isn’t going to like it.”
“He doesn’t like anything I do.”
His mother made