The Willowdale Short Story Collection Page 2

  She curled into a ball. What was she doing here all alone pretending to be confident and independent? This had been her dumbest idea yet, even worse than lending Inez a thousand bucks to start a cupcake-making business. Inez couldn’t even make ramen noodles right. But Tonya hated being a dream squasher. However, this dream of moving and starting over might be even stupider than the cupcakes.

  Then she pictured Marcus’s sneer when she told him she was leaving. She couldn’t call it quits an hour after she’d gotten into town. A tear trickled down her cheek. She was just scared, that was it, and it was bound to get better. Certainly the oil rig workers probably would’ve been even less welcoming. She looked at the clock—2:30 pm. No wonder she was cranky. She hadn’t had lunch. Tonya wasn’t the skip a meal type girl, as if the entire free world couldn’t deduce that from looking at her hips.

  After a yawn and a good stretch, she scurried to the bathroom, touched up her hair and makeup, and grabbed her purse. She’d passed the Jelly Jar Diner on the way to the motel and figured she could find some food and conversation there, and maybe a kind soul or two to explain what this town had against beauty salons, anyway.

  ***

  Even though it was well past the lunch hour, the diner was still buzzing with activity. Two college-aged girls smiled at her when she entered and then resumed arguing over the lettering they were painting on the window.

  “Marisa, it has to be backwards, or people outside can’t read it.”

  “But then people inside can’t read it, and they’re the ones doing the ordering. You tell me which is more important, Lori.” She flipped her long red hair over her shoulder.

  Their bantering reminded her of how she and Inez got along. If they weren’t arguing, that probably meant they weren’t talking. Sliding onto a stool at the counter, she wondered how Inez would do without her. There was a good chance she was redecorating Nonna’s place already, turning Tonya’s bedroom into a glorified closet. The girl had a huge wardrobe of itty-bitty clothes that covered next to nothing. Somehow, they took up a lot of space in the apartment, though.

  “Hi, doll. What can I get for you today?” A cheery woman in her early fifties slid a laminated menu in front of Tonya. The three men lined up along the counter leaned forward to gawk at her.

  If she were back in New York, she might have flipped them the bird, but she was trying to cultivate some nice, southern manners so she just smiled and asked in her sweetest voice, “What’s good here?”

  “They’ve got chicken fried steak to beat the band,” offered a gent in a cowboy hat.

  The guy next to him frowned. “Burt, you know all of Willowdale and half of Carsonville comes here for the catfish. Why you talking on about the chicken fried steak?”

  Tonya opened and closed her mouth.

  The third man took the toothpick out of his mouth and pointed it at her. “Trust me on this, darlin’, you want the sweet potato pie.”

  The three men grinned at her, waiting to see whose suggestion she’d pick.

  The woman patted Tonya’s hand. “How ‘bout I just bring you a sweet tea and chicken and biscuits?”

  Tonya’s eyes widened and she nodded. “Sounds good.”

  Deflated, the men turned back to their sections of the newspaper, rattling the pages more than necessary. An older woman, small and dainty as a bird, ambled up to the counter with her coffee cup. “Refill when you get a chance, Rita.”

  “Sure, Pansy.”

  Pansy tugged up her drooping pink polyester pants and turned to Tonya. “Now how is it we haven’t seen you in here before?”

  “I just moved to town.”

  Conversation in the diner stopped.

  Pansy’s pants sagged back down. She yanked them back up. “What’d you do that for? Got kin here? I think we’d know if you did.”

  Tonya shook her head. “Long story, but I’m starting fresh. Seemed like a good, friendly place.”

  Pansy nodded encouragingly. “It can be. Now, what do you do, dear?”

  Tonya swallowed hard and willed her smile to stay in place. “I’m a hair stylist. I’m opening a salon.”

  Pansy’s smile fell faster than her pants, and Tonya heard a fork clatter onto a plate. “Bless your heart,” she said. “You best find another town for that. No need or want for a hair salon in Willowdale.”

  “But there isn’t a salon in Willowdale. You do need one.”

  “We all go to Bill the Barber and he does a fine job.”

  One look at the woman’s uneven bob told Tonya he did anything but a fine job, but the way everyone else in the diner was mumbling and nodding in agreement told Tonya she’d better zip her lip.

  The bells on the door jangled and everyone turned to see the new arrival.

  “Perfect,” Tonya said under her breath, ignoring her pounding heart.

  “Chief Larsen, one coffee coming right up,” said Rita.

  The chief removed his hat and took his time walking up to the counter. He turned to Tonya. “Hello there, Miss Garcia.” His jaw was chiseled, his neck was thick, and his gaze was traveling south.

  Tonya tipped up her chin and crossed her arms over her chest. No more free peeks at the girls for him. “Hello, Chief. Perhaps I can pay that ticket while I’m here?”

  Rita looked up from behind the counter, horrified. “Tell me you did not give this lovely girl a ticket, Tommy.”

  The chief stared at his feet, the small scar next to his eye suddenly not looking as tough. “Somebody’s got to pay for those new benches ya’ll want installed on Main Street. Even though everyone knows people are still gonna be sittin’ here in the Jelly Jar. Don’t know what difference benches are going to make to the economy.” He turned and pointed at Tonya. “And I figured you were just passing through, trying to worm your way out of a ticket by telling me you were moving here. We haven’t had anyone move to town since Roy here showed up in ’97.” Tommy pointed at the redheaded guy with a beard sitting along the counter. “And that’s only ‘cause his truck broke down and he didn’t have the money to fix it.”

  “I’m going to be moving on any day now, you just wait and see,” Roy answered.

  Tommy waved him off and continued. “So excuse me for being suspicious. It’s just, nothing upsets me more than people concocting lame excuses to get out of a ticket. It’s a little problem I have,” he said, shuffling his feet, hat in hand.

  He looked sorry enough that Tonya felt some of her sass drain away. “Well, here I am, moving to town. Better update the sign: Willowdale, population 1201.”

  He sat next to her, those big thighs of his brushing against hers. Goose bumps tingled along her arms, as welcome right then as an army of ants marching on her skin. Who knew hot and remorseful could be such a powerful turn on in a man?

  He cocked his head. “So, Miss Garcia, why were you tearing through town?”

  She fiddled with the straw in the drink Rita had dropped off. “Just anxious to get here, I guess.” She pulled the ticket out of her purse and held it up. “Shall we rip this up and call it a misunderstanding?” She gave him her most fabulous grin; the one that usually moved her to the front of the line at clubs across the Big Apple. “And call me Tonya. Please. This miss business is driving me nuts.”

  The chief shook his head. “Sorry, Tonya. Just trying to be polite. And I can’t rip up the ticket. Dolly down at the station would have a fit, messing up her paperwork like that.”

  Frowning, Tonya shoved it back in her purse. Guess he wasn’t that remorseful.

  “Chief, she’s talking about opening a beauty parlor,” the guy in the cowboy hat said, as if he were talking about a crack house instead of a hair salon.

  Chief Larsen clucked his tongue. “I hear Scalia’s is looking for a waitress. Might want to look into that instead.”

  Tonya’s throat felt swollen, but she finally managed to say, “I’m a good hairdresser. I’m sure there’s room for me here in a friendly town like Willowdale.”

  Silence followed that.

  “A pretty girl like you would do real well at Scalia’s. You could bring in some nice tips. Real nice.” He looked her up and down and she was dismayed by the pleasant feeling pulsing through her.

  Tonya took a deep breath. “I bring in very nice tips when I’m cutting hair.” She jerked her chin in his direction. “You could use a cut, chief. Looks a little uneven.” She resisted the urge to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear.

  He grumbled and coughed. “I’ve got an appointment with Bill the Barber soon.”

  She looked around the diner and noticed quite a few choppy cuts: women with asymmetrical cuts that didn’t look intentional, men with more hair buzzed off one side than the other, and one woman with zig-zagged bangs. Was some crazy stylist holding the whole town hostage?

  Rita came out with her meal and Tonya was grateful for the change in subject. Unfortunately, the six-foot tall distraction with sky-blue eyes was still sitting next to her, watching her. Tonya wasn’t one to let herself be intimidated by a man, hot or not. Even better, her tendency to eat with gusto could be quite a turn off. Which was probably a good plan with this man—do whatever she could to deter him, since she seemed turned on with no hope of relief.

  She dug into the chicken and biscuits, swallowed, and sighed. It was heaven on a plate. It didn’t take long before the meal disappeared, and Tonya swiped her finger across the dish to get the last scrape of gravy. Always a classy move.

  “Now some men might be put off by a woman with that kind of appetite. Not me.” He grinned at her, showing off two dimples that looked quite at home under his high cheekbones.

  Damn. “I was hungrier than I thought.”

  “Hungry is good—even when it’s just food we’re talking about.”

  Now this is the kin
d of flirting she’d been aiming for back when he pulled her over. This kind of talk would’ve gotten her out of a ticket for sure. She hopped off her stool. But not now. Too little, too late, Chief. “I’m ready for the check,” she said to Rita, before grabbing her purse and excusing herself to use the restroom.

  Tonya locked herself in the stall and willed herself not to cry—or scream. What a bad start to her new life. Except for the food. That had been great. While pressing her eyes closed to keep a tear from slipping out, her phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Are you ready to come back home and stop this bullshit?”

  Her throat tightened. Where was that damn list of hers? “Marcus, I meant it. We’re done. I’ve moved on. I am hundreds of zip codes away. It’s over.”

  He laughed. “You’ll be back. You need me, baby. You can’t handle things on your own. Never could.”

  She swallowed back a sob. “Of course I can. Everything’s great. Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

  He laughed. “I give it a month and you’ll be crawling back. But don’t worry, I won’t hold a grudge—not for long, anyway.” He hung up.

  Maybe North Carolina wasn’t far enough away, she thought. Maybe she should have picked a different country.

  When she came out of the stall, one of the old biddies who’d been sitting at a booth wagged a finger at Tonya. “Leave well enough alone. We don’t need a beauty parlor!” With that, she stormed back into the restaurant.

  Tonya leaned against the cool, tiled wall and sighed. Was Marcus right? If no one was willing to take a chance on her here, what would she do? Should she move on to another town? Or maybe she should just go back home. Inez couldn’t have taken over the entire apartment yet.

  As she washed her hands, a pretty, young blonde slipped in the room, her eyes darting toward the door. She put her finger to her lips in a “shh” gesture.

  Tonya blinked at her, and the woman handed her a slip of paper with a phone number. “I’d love for you to cut my hair, but you can’t tell anyone,” she whispered. “Call me and we’ll set it up.”

  Tonya studied the piece of paper then looked at the woman to see if this was a joke. Nope. The woman looked truly terrified that she’d be caught. “What is going on in this town?” This must be what it’s like when a drug deal goes down.

  Biting her lip, the woman looked over her shoulder. “Just call me.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Kate. Kate Riley. Pleased to meet you. I mean, I’m really pleased to meet you.”

  One look at her hair and Tonya was sure she meant it. “Okay, I’ll call you later, Kate. I’m Tonya Garcia.” The women shook hands, and then Kate scuttled out of the bathroom before Tonya could get any information about this lunacy.

  Shaking her head, Tonya went back to the counter to pay her bill, but the check was gone. The police chief tipped his hat at her. “I figure we got off on the wrong foot. Lunch is on me.”

  Tonya crossed her arms and tapped her toe. What was this guy playing at? The bells on the door jingled and Kate looked back at them, then hurried out.

  The chief stood up. “Come on. Let me show you around town.”

  Her instincts told her this was a bad idea; her hormones said bring it on. And things never went well when her hormones were in charge. But she did need to learn more about her new town. What could a quick tour hurt? Just as long as they stayed in the front seat. “Okay. But you drive.” She raised an eyebrow and he laughed.

  The two college girls gave each other a knowing look when Tonya followed the police chief outside.

  He opened the passenger door of his car.

  “Am I allowed to ride in your cruiser?” she asked. “I know you’re a stickler for rules.”

  “Don’t forget, I am the chief. Comes with a few perks.”

  The car was stuffy as she climbed in, so she lifted her hair off the back of her neck. “You sure you have time to show me around, Chief Larsen?” She probably looked a lot sexier than she intended. It was another bad habit of hers.

  He stared at her with half a sleepy smile that made her squirm. That’s the kind of smile you get after a night of hot, wild, you-know-what. She clenched her teeth. She could not, should not even be thinking these thoughts. Not now. Not so soon. She let her hair fall back to her shoulders.

  “Call me Tommy. And a tour of Willowdale won’t take all of fifteen minutes. Besides, I’m curious to find out why a girl like you moved to a town like this.”

  “No big secret. My Nonna passed away, my ex had plans for my inheritance, and here I am, looking for a new start.” Do not mention the darts. She held up a hand. “And don’t tell me again that it’s a bad idea to open a hair salon.”

  “It is.”

  Groaning, she shook her head. “Why don’t you just show me Main Street?”

  “At your service, ma’am.” He pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the town’s main strip. “We’ve got just about everything you could need here. Bowling alley over to the left, Daisy’s Florist next door, and of course Scalia’s up ahead is the place when you’re looking for a fancy night out.”

  “Right. The place where I won’t be applying for a waitressing job. Good food?”

  “Fair enough. But it’s the only place in town with linen napkins.”

  “I see.” Tonya loved eating out, but it appeared she’d be saving money with the limited selections in town. She didn’t bother asking about a decent Thai restaurant.

  “And here’s Bill the Barber’s place. As you can see, we’ve already got a place here for hair cuttin’. I could show you the nursing home just out of town. Might be looking for some aides there.”

  Tonya rolled her eyes and noticed a vacant storefront just up the street. Faded curtains hung in the dirty front window and the place was dark. A big sign above the door read, ‘The Curl E.Q. Salon’ and the words, ‘For Rent’ with a phone number below were scrawled on a sign on the front door. She jabbed her finger against her window. “See! You had a beauty salon here before. You do need another one.” She’d have to make a trip downtown to jot down the number.

  “It’s closed for a reason.” Tommy pointed to another building up ahead. “That there is the Weekly Saver, you’ll find your classifieds and police blotter delivered to your doorstep every Friday morning.” He slammed on the brakes and flung his arm in front of her when a dog zipped across the street. His forearm was pressed against her breasts; he did not immediately remove it.

  “Sorry, natural reflex,” he said.

  What? Reaching for a woman’s rack or trying to protect her? Tonya wondered. She was used to the former, the latter not so much. Either way, it made her uncomfortable. She forced a smile for him. “Thank you.”

  “I aim to serve and protect.” His voice was rich and husky like whiskey; whiskey always burned Tonya’s throat and left her with a hell of a hangover. She had to be sure to remember that.

  He grinned at her. “Would you like to see the local hotspot?”

  “The hotspot? There’s only one?”

  “Unless you want to make the forty-minute trip to Whitesville.”

  She gulped and nodded, and the chief pulled off Main Street and headed out of the tiny downtown area, past the town hall and the medical clinic. “Up here’s The Hideaway. My brother, Brad, manages bar there. Works out well. He gives me a ring when anyone’s had a few too many and is fool enough to think they’re driving home. We do our best to keep the roads safe. Usually a good time, though.”

  “I’ll have to check it out this Friday. Any other brothers or sisters?”

  “Got a younger brother, Mitch, he’s sixteen. Brad’s twenty-four. Then there’s me and can’t forget our older brother, Jake.” He frowned. “He moved a while back. How about you?”

  “Just me and my cousin Inez. Our grandma raised us, and now that she’s gone, I needed a change, you know?”

  He nodded. “No boyfriend to hang around for?”

  “Not anymore. What about you? You single?” He better be, the way he’d been eyeing her assets.

  “I am. Was married for a few years, have a kid.”

  “Do they live here?”