Page 110 of Never Forever

“Shit. Hold your horses, Jonah!” I shouted, heading down the stairs again. I could see his distorted figure on the other side of the glass and threw open the door only to find Matt. With a to go Pappas’ Diner bag.

“Who the hell is Jonah?” he asked.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked.

“Cheeseburger. Side of half fries, half Caesar salad.”

I could have wept. He handed it to me and I grabbed it in both hands and headed back toward the kitchen. Matt followed.

“Who is Jonah?”

“Hello, Jonah McNeil,” I said, pointing to the gear and supplies in the corner. Jonah was a few years older than us, but we went to school with his little sister.

“Oh,” Matt said. “You hired him to do the work.”

“Wanted to keep it local,” I said. In the kitchen, I tore open the bag and dragged a fry through some Caesar dressing and popped it in my mouth. Fucking delicious. I groaned at the deliciousness.

Matt came in, a knowing smile around his lips.

“It’s a cheeseburger and fries,” I said. “You didn’t crack the code on pregnancy cravings.”

He lifted his hands. “Just happy to provide.”

“Hey,” I said, eyeing him and that big bag over his shoulder. Outside of the situation with the condom that got us in this mess, Matt Sullivan had been a guy who always had tools, extra sweatshirts and spare tires in his truck. “You wouldn’t happen to have a pair of scissors on you, would you?”

“No,” he said. “No scissors, but a sharp Exacto knife.”

“That will do.”

“For what?”

“I need you to cut this off,” I said. I turned and gave him my back, lifting the long braid over my shoulder.

“Your hair?!”

“Most of it is not mine. And yes.” I grinned at him.

He looked horrified.

“It’s fine, I like to do this after every shoot,” I explained. “It’s just easier to cut the extensions out and it will feel like ten pounds has been lifted off my head.”

“I can take you into town. Star has a salon…”

I shook my head. “Off. Now. Please.”

He pulled the knife from a little pocket in his pants.

So clever, I thought. I wanted a pair of pants with that kind of specific solution to specific situations. Only I would most likely put cheeseburgers in the pockets of my pants.

He set it down on the counter, but he left his hand on it. “I can’t do this. It’s your hair!”

“And it grows back. Every time. Here, gimme.”

I grabbed the blade from the counter, adjusted it and just started to saw away at my hair.

Funny, in the movies, this seemed really easy.

It was not.

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