wanted a change, I had to prioritize my options. Right now, drugstore hair dye was cheap, and I was willing to do it myself to save money.
“Hey, girl, haven’t seen you in a while.”
Surprised by the familiar voice, I looked sideways to see Cherise leaning on a shopping cart, smirking over at me. Hastily, I put the box of hair dye back on the shelf and heard her chuckle.
I’d only ever seen the bartender in the bar, and under those dim lights I had mistakenly assumed from her self-assurance that she was older. In the light of day, however, she didn’t look much older than me. Like a true Southern girl, she rocked the cutoff shorts and halter top, with the cowboy boots being a nice added touch. She seemed far more comfortable in her body than I was with mine. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail beneath an Ole’ Miss red cap.
Right now she was waiting for my response, one eyebrow quirked. “Yeah, I’m sorry,” I started, and then trailed off as she waved her hand.
“Don’t be. From the look of things, it seemed you needed to take a break anyway.” She tilted her head sideways. “Looking to do a makeover?”
“Um …”
A knowing smile crossed her lips. “Change can be fun.” She studied me for a moment, tilting her head to the side, and then plucked a box of color from the aisle and tossed it to me. “Here, bet you’ll like this one.”
I turned it over to see a cover model with flowing chestnut hair staring at me. “Thanks,” I said tentatively, fidgeting with the box in my hands.
“If it’s any consolation,” Cherise continued as if we were having a conversation, “I quit that place, too. Got a bit rowdier than I prefer. Looks like I’m taking over at the Calamity Jane here in town.”
“You’re bartending there?”
“Nope, own the joint. Well, technically the
bank
owns it, but it’s mine to run. You should come by some night. I promise to keep better tabs on who’s allowed inside.”
The bar Calamity Jane had been an Oyster Cove tradition far longer than I’d been around. The club was less than a block from the ocean and had lain barren due to hurricane damage until a couple years ago. I hadn’t yet been there but always meant to go.
“I’ll see,” I said cautiously. “I’m trying to get away from that life; it’s … not me.”
“Good girl.” At my bemused stare, she grinned. “Never be ashamed to go your own path. Sure as hell ain’t easy, I’ll tell you that, but it makes life worth living.”
A slow smile crept over my lips, and Cherise winked at me. “See you around, girl,” she said, slipping past me and around the corner. I stared after her for a second, then at the box of hair dye in my hands, before moving up to the counter.
While the cashier rung up my purchase, I pulled out my phone to text Everett.
< Where are y’all working today? >
< Down off 90, by the water. Why? >
My smile grew into a grin as an idea formed in my head.
< No reason. >
Half an hour later, I was cruising down the coastal highway looking for construction. In the seat beside me was a large cooler full of flavored snowballs. I was glad I’d brought the cooler because it took me longer to find the site than I’d hoped. Eventually I saw men at work on the frontage road and pulled off.
I recognized Trent first. He wore a black tank that was already dusty from the day’s work. He noticed me and called to somebody behind a wall as I pulled the cooler from the passenger seat. Indecision hit me suddenly.
This is such a stupid idea
. What was I trying to do anyway?
Then another figure appeared beside Trent, and I swallowed. The shaggy dark hair and broad shoulders identified Everett, but it wasn’t his hair I was looking at. Unlike Trent, Everett had opted to shed his shirt entirely; even from a distance, I could see the outline of muscles on his torso. His hands were in large work gloves, which he pulled off and tucked under one arm, staring at me from across the
“Hey, girl, haven’t seen you in a while.”
Surprised by the familiar voice, I looked sideways to see Cherise leaning on a shopping cart, smirking over at me. Hastily, I put the box of hair dye back on the shelf and heard her chuckle.
I’d only ever seen the bartender in the bar, and under those dim lights I had mistakenly assumed from her self-assurance that she was older. In the light of day, however, she didn’t look much older than me. Like a true Southern girl, she rocked the cutoff shorts and halter top, with the cowboy boots being a nice added touch. She seemed far more comfortable in her body than I was with mine. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail beneath an Ole’ Miss red cap.
Right now she was waiting for my response, one eyebrow quirked. “Yeah, I’m sorry,” I started, and then trailed off as she waved her hand.
“Don’t be. From the look of things, it seemed you needed to take a break anyway.” She tilted her head sideways. “Looking to do a makeover?”
“Um …”
A knowing smile crossed her lips. “Change can be fun.” She studied me for a moment, tilting her head to the side, and then plucked a box of color from the aisle and tossed it to me. “Here, bet you’ll like this one.”
I turned it over to see a cover model with flowing chestnut hair staring at me. “Thanks,” I said tentatively, fidgeting with the box in my hands.
“If it’s any consolation,” Cherise continued as if we were having a conversation, “I quit that place, too. Got a bit rowdier than I prefer. Looks like I’m taking over at the Calamity Jane here in town.”
“You’re bartending there?”
“Nope, own the joint. Well, technically the
bank
owns it, but it’s mine to run. You should come by some night. I promise to keep better tabs on who’s allowed inside.”
The bar Calamity Jane had been an Oyster Cove tradition far longer than I’d been around. The club was less than a block from the ocean and had lain barren due to hurricane damage until a couple years ago. I hadn’t yet been there but always meant to go.
“I’ll see,” I said cautiously. “I’m trying to get away from that life; it’s … not me.”
“Good girl.” At my bemused stare, she grinned. “Never be ashamed to go your own path. Sure as hell ain’t easy, I’ll tell you that, but it makes life worth living.”
A slow smile crept over my lips, and Cherise winked at me. “See you around, girl,” she said, slipping past me and around the corner. I stared after her for a second, then at the box of hair dye in my hands, before moving up to the counter.
While the cashier rung up my purchase, I pulled out my phone to text Everett.
< Where are y’all working today? >
< Down off 90, by the water. Why? >
My smile grew into a grin as an idea formed in my head.
< No reason. >
Half an hour later, I was cruising down the coastal highway looking for construction. In the seat beside me was a large cooler full of flavored snowballs. I was glad I’d brought the cooler because it took me longer to find the site than I’d hoped. Eventually I saw men at work on the frontage road and pulled off.
I recognized Trent first. He wore a black tank that was already dusty from the day’s work. He noticed me and called to somebody behind a wall as I pulled the cooler from the passenger seat. Indecision hit me suddenly.
This is such a stupid idea
. What was I trying to do anyway?
Then another figure appeared beside Trent, and I swallowed. The shaggy dark hair and broad shoulders identified Everett, but it wasn’t his hair I was looking at. Unlike Trent, Everett had opted to shed his shirt entirely; even from a distance, I could see the outline of muscles on his torso. His hands were in large work gloves, which he pulled off and tucked under one arm, staring at me from across the
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