Page 1 of The Way We Were(wolf)

ChapterOne

“Stop—you can’t do this!”

Eric froze, the blades in his hand an inch from the old man’s head.

So close. He’d gottensoclose. “I thought we’d come to an agreement, Mr. Conner.”

The gentleman’s head rose to meet Eric’s gaze, eyes rounded behind the smudged lenses of his wire glasses. And for a brief second, Eric almost felt bad for him. “I just… I dunno. I feel like I should say goodbye,” the man said, his voice heavy with emotion.

Seriously?

Eric dropped his arms to his sides, then ran a frustrated hand through his thick, dark hair. No doubt it was sticking out every which way, but he didn’t have it in him to care. There were more pressing matters sucking his energy at the moment.

He hated doing things this way, rushing the process along like this. A relaxed, chilled environment was his jam—and not just because he always ran a little on the hot side, as evidenced by the thin, short-sleeved shirt he wore. Everyone else he’d seen today sported layers, flannel, and chunky sweaters—things that would have melted him like a popsicle on the first day of summer. But it was fall, and it was clear he was unseasonably dressed.

Adhering to this tight schedule wasn’t ideal, but what other choice did he have? There were several people he needed to take care of today, and if he didn’t get to them, his boss would be on him like a basic girl on a pumpkin spice latte. Besides, the longer Mr. Conner sat in the chair, bouncing his knee faster than a Harlem Globetrotter dribbling three basketballs at a time—the more ways he found to put off the inevitable—the less of a chance Eric would have to finish what he’d started. And he needed to finish it. This was his job.

“Take all the time you need, sir.” Eric took a step back, emptying his hand, the metal clanging on the table next to him.

This wasn’t what he’d imagined doing for a living. But growing up the way he did, it wasn’t like he had many options. It wasn’t all bad, though. Most days, he actually enjoyed what he did. He just had a lot more people than usual on his list today.

Mr. Conner shook his head. “No. I’m being silly. Go on now. Do what you have to do.”

Finally.

Eric took one step forward, raising his hand to tilt the man’s head at just the right angle. Mr. Conner’s shoulders scrunched to his ears, adding yet another challenge to the process. “It’ll be over before you know it,” Eric reassured, though the old man’s face didn’t communicate faith in what he’d said. Like a wax candle left out in the sun, Mr. Connor’s features drooped and puddled with his slackened expression.

Time to get this over with.

“Okay…three, two—” Eric stopped there, never making it to one. No way was he giving Mr. Conner the chance to chicken out for the fourth time.

“Is it over?” the man asked, his eyes closed tighter than a toddler’s grip around a candy bar he wasn’t allowed to have.

Eric watched four long wisps of hair flutter to the ground like autumn leaves dropping from a maple tree, caught in a gentle breeze as they floated to the floor. “All done. You can look now.”

Over his shoulder, Eric watched Mr. Conner open his eyes and see himself for the first time in the mirror. “Well, what do ya know. Mrs. Conner said I’d look better bald.” He rubbed his shiny head, a smile splitting his face. “And she was right.”

Grabbing clippers from his station, Eric viewed the man and stifled a smile. Save for the handful of hairs he’d just snipped, Mr. Conner had been bald for a long time. Eric didn’t tell him that, of course. His job at Hairy Stylez Salon was to make every customer feel good, which was his favorite part of the job. After all, he was a born healer—well, not like a doctor. No, a medical facility would never hire someone like him.

He just loved being around people, which was why he’d come to Wheeling and why he’d started working here. He wanted to belong…somewhere. Anywhere. And this town was perfect, despite what his brother kept telling him. If Nate had gotten his way, they still would have been holed up in some desolate area, away from civilization. Definitely not hobnobbing with the small-town locals. But people made him happy, which was a good thing because losing control of his emotions…well, no good ever came from that.

He eyed his brother in the adjacent stall, snipping away like everything was hunky-dory, and not like he was the human embodiment of a bucket of water to every spark of fun in Eric’s life. No, a bucket of water was too mild. Nathan’s zest for dousing Eric’s good times was more akin to Niagara Falls.

But there was so much to love here: quaint shops lining Main Street, delicious pizza at DiCarlo’s. Eric never wanted to leave. He would, eventually, he realized. He had to. But he tried not to think about that too much.

He smiled at Mr. Conner, watching him turn this way and that, inspecting his new ‘do from every angle in the mirror. “You'll look so different your wife won't recognize you,” he said while shaving the man's neck. Satisfied, he dusted off the cape with a soft-bristled brush before pulling it off his shoulders.

“You know, I think you’re right.” Mr. Conner leaned closer to get a better look in the mirror and slicked back the stubbled hair on the sides of his head like a greaser in a movie from the fifties. Technically, he slicked theskinon the sides of his head because, well, he was bald after all. Regardless, Eric half expected the man to burst into a song about summer nights or a woman named Sandra Dee.

“Looking spiffy, Mr. Conner,” Stella, the owner of the salon, greeted as the man approached the counter to make his next appointment.

“The missus said I was getting a little too hairy for her taste. That I was looking like a werewolf.”

This time, Eric couldn’t stop the laughter that rolled from within his chest and into the salon, louder than the hair dryers and music that filled the air. “Oh, Mr. Conner…you’re definitely not a werewolf.”

The old man turned in his direction and slapped a crisp ten-dollar bill in Eric’s hand. He waved as he walked past the other customers waiting for their appointments and exited the salon door.

The truth was, thereweretwo werewolves at Hairy Stylez…but none were Mr. Conner.

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