Page 48 of Fighting a Riot

Yak tipped his head marginally since Fred had pulled his hair into a smoother ponytail. “She is, but it isn’t like that between us.”

Fred laughed. “Not sure who hears those words more often, barbers, bartenders, or psychiatrists.”

Yak grinned. “Starting to remember why I don’t come here that often.”

Fred held the scissors at the top of the ponytail. “After today, you’ll be back more often. At least until your hair grows back out.”

He watched as Fred took the banded lock of hair and put it into a plastic bag. “So, that hair can only make one wig?”

Fred nodded. “That’s what they tell us. Couple of your brothers have hair long enough, they could donate too. Especially that really angry one. Sydney’s just itching to get her fingers in his hair.”

Yak chuckled. “I’ll let Rage know. Though, I’m gonna catch a lot of shit for this.”

Fred stilled with his fingers in Yak’s hair. “Doubt that, but if you do, I’ll come kick their asses. I don’t care how many of them there are.”

Yak smiled. “Keep that in mind, man.”

Fred gave a single nod. “Women would kill for hair like yours. Doesn’t seem curly when you let it grow, but what do you want me to do with this? Shave it all, or you want a scissor cut to manage it for now? I leave it as it is you’re gonna look like a broccoli kid.”

Yak snorted out a laugh. “A what?”

“It’s a thing these days. Kids come in wanting a one-blade on the sides and little to nothing taken off the top. That kid has curls like yours, they look like they got a stalk of broccoli on their head.”

“That’s tempting, but I’ll let you trim me up, Fred.”

Fred focused on Yak’s hair, but did it nodding for a while. “Mm-hmm. Because it isn’t like that with you and… what’s her name?”

“Nora, and it isn’t like that.”

“Okay, boss.”

Nora

The knock at my door baffled me because my mom and Gary had left yesterday morning. My twin brother Evan had left yesterday evening to visit friends in Orlando. He’d intended to cancel those plans, but I insisted he make the most of his military leave. Whoever was behind the door wasn’t likely to be Yak since he’d made himself so scarce after our ride to the zoo and the biker bar. Though, in some ways that was a good thing because I wasn’t looking that great after my surgery. Each day was an improvement, but I still looked like I’d been through a physical and emotional wringer.

The lumpectomy had been successful –the tumor had been removed and we were awaiting the test of my lymph node sample. That would determine how much chemo I would need.

I peeked through the peephole and grinned. Trixie stood on the doorstep with another woman who had chocolate-brown hair and brown eyes.

I opened the door. “Hey, this is a surprise!”

Trixie held a brown paper bag from Trader Joe’s in one hand and she waved me out of the doorway with her other. “I’ll just bet it is. If your neighbor didn’t have his head up his—”

“Trixie,” the brunette said in a warning tone.

She glared at her. “It’s not my fault when the truth hurts.” She looked at me. “Nora, this is Mallory. Mallory, meet Nora.”

Mallory held a Trader Joe bag in each of her hands. “I’d shake your hand right now, but I’d rather know where you want us to put these.”

From my small kitchen Trixie called out, “Don’t worry. Mallory has a thing for red wine, but I made sure we stuck to the healthy shit for you.”

“A glass of red each day is supposed to be healthy,” Mallory said, moving into the kitchen.

I grinned and followed Mallory to the tiny kitchen. “I’ve heard that… though I think it requires genuine French baguettes or copious amounts of Italian pasta to be effective.”

Mallory set the bag down and smiled at me. “I like you already.”

Trixie kicked the fridge door shut. It hit me that I didn’t even see what she put in it.

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