hell need a haircut. What’s your name?” Smitty said.
“Alan,” Zane said. He thought it safer to use his middle name. “So what do you say?” Zane urged. Smitty only paused for a moment before responding.
“I’ll give you a haircut first. I don’t want the customers to see you looking like that. You can put your things in the back room.”
“Thanks a lot,” Zane said with a smile.
“How do you want it?” Smitty asked when Zane was in the barber chair.
“Short,” Zane replied. Smitty cut Zane’s hair to a near crew cut length and shaved his face with a straight razor. “You do good work,” Zane said, admiring himself in the mirror when Smitty had finished.
“You l ook like a new man,” Smitty said.
“T hat’s what I was hoping for,” Zane grinned.
Zane swept the floor, cleaned instruments, served customers refreshments, worked the register, and did whatever else Smitty told him to do. He indeed looked different now. He just hoped it would be enough to fool the police and that every officer in Helena was too busy looking for him tonight to get their hair cut. It was an excellent hiding place, really. Who would think to look for him there?
As Zane was serving refreshments, a news bulletin came across the TV in the waiting area. Every customer sitting in the waiting area turned their heads to watch. “In local news tonight, Helena police are searching for this man, Zane Marsh,” a female reporter said. Zane’s picture flashed across the screen. “He is wanted for a series of terrorist crimes, and he is believed to be within the Helena area. If you’ve seen Zane Marsh, please contact the Helena Police Department immediately,” the reported stated.
“Contact the Helena Police Department immediately if you’ve seen Zane Marsh,” the customers said in perfect unison as they turned their heads away from the TV. Zane jumped back with a start, almost spilling the cups of Kool-Aid in his hands. A chill shot down his spine as he hoped they wouldn’t recognize the picture of the long haired, bearded man on TV as him.
“Uh, yeah…..contact the Helena police if yo u’ve seen Zane Marsh,” Zane blurted, in a feeble attempt to fit in. The customers blinked as if awakening from a trance, and stared at him blankly. They did not appear to recognize him. Good God, these people are brainwashed! This is terrifying, Zane thought.
The last customers of the evening made their way out. Smitty locked the door, and shut the blinds. “You can go now,” Smitty told Zane, who was busying himself by cleaning a stack of combs, “You’ve more than earned your haircut, kid.”
“I’m in no hurry,” Zane said.
“Well, it’s closing time, and you should get some rest for your job interview tomorrow,” Smitty replied.
“I guess you’re right,” Zane said shaking off the combs in the sink. He stopped cleaning and reluctantly gathered his belongings. He shook hands with Smitty at the door, and said goodbye.
Zane left the barbershop and walked down the street nervously. He took off his glasses and put them in his shirt pocket. Night had fallen. His hiding place was gone. He was back out onto the streets, back to having nowhere to go, back to thinking about Trent, Brooklyn, Caleb, Ben, and Brian and how everyone’s lives would be ruined if he was arrested now. NO! He must not think that way.
If Brooklyn were with him right now, she’d tell him to stop wasting time with “what-if” and not to screw things up now. She had always been his voice of reason, one of the few people in life he would actually ever listen to. He loved her, but not as much as Trent loved her. He knew that. That’s why he had never tried to come between them, even if Trent was too chicken to tell her how he felt. Trent was still his friend.
Zane rounded the corner, and was surprised to see a group of
“Alan,” Zane said. He thought it safer to use his middle name. “So what do you say?” Zane urged. Smitty only paused for a moment before responding.
“I’ll give you a haircut first. I don’t want the customers to see you looking like that. You can put your things in the back room.”
“Thanks a lot,” Zane said with a smile.
“How do you want it?” Smitty asked when Zane was in the barber chair.
“Short,” Zane replied. Smitty cut Zane’s hair to a near crew cut length and shaved his face with a straight razor. “You do good work,” Zane said, admiring himself in the mirror when Smitty had finished.
“You l ook like a new man,” Smitty said.
“T hat’s what I was hoping for,” Zane grinned.
Zane swept the floor, cleaned instruments, served customers refreshments, worked the register, and did whatever else Smitty told him to do. He indeed looked different now. He just hoped it would be enough to fool the police and that every officer in Helena was too busy looking for him tonight to get their hair cut. It was an excellent hiding place, really. Who would think to look for him there?
As Zane was serving refreshments, a news bulletin came across the TV in the waiting area. Every customer sitting in the waiting area turned their heads to watch. “In local news tonight, Helena police are searching for this man, Zane Marsh,” a female reporter said. Zane’s picture flashed across the screen. “He is wanted for a series of terrorist crimes, and he is believed to be within the Helena area. If you’ve seen Zane Marsh, please contact the Helena Police Department immediately,” the reported stated.
“Contact the Helena Police Department immediately if you’ve seen Zane Marsh,” the customers said in perfect unison as they turned their heads away from the TV. Zane jumped back with a start, almost spilling the cups of Kool-Aid in his hands. A chill shot down his spine as he hoped they wouldn’t recognize the picture of the long haired, bearded man on TV as him.
“Uh, yeah…..contact the Helena police if yo u’ve seen Zane Marsh,” Zane blurted, in a feeble attempt to fit in. The customers blinked as if awakening from a trance, and stared at him blankly. They did not appear to recognize him. Good God, these people are brainwashed! This is terrifying, Zane thought.
The last customers of the evening made their way out. Smitty locked the door, and shut the blinds. “You can go now,” Smitty told Zane, who was busying himself by cleaning a stack of combs, “You’ve more than earned your haircut, kid.”
“I’m in no hurry,” Zane said.
“Well, it’s closing time, and you should get some rest for your job interview tomorrow,” Smitty replied.
“I guess you’re right,” Zane said shaking off the combs in the sink. He stopped cleaning and reluctantly gathered his belongings. He shook hands with Smitty at the door, and said goodbye.
Zane left the barbershop and walked down the street nervously. He took off his glasses and put them in his shirt pocket. Night had fallen. His hiding place was gone. He was back out onto the streets, back to having nowhere to go, back to thinking about Trent, Brooklyn, Caleb, Ben, and Brian and how everyone’s lives would be ruined if he was arrested now. NO! He must not think that way.
If Brooklyn were with him right now, she’d tell him to stop wasting time with “what-if” and not to screw things up now. She had always been his voice of reason, one of the few people in life he would actually ever listen to. He loved her, but not as much as Trent loved her. He knew that. That’s why he had never tried to come between them, even if Trent was too chicken to tell her how he felt. Trent was still his friend.
Zane rounded the corner, and was surprised to see a group of
Similar Books
