Page 41 of Baby Duke

"You callthisa monstrosity?" I ask in disbelief.

He just shrugs as he opens the front door. "I suppose it is nice to look at. If you are into this kind of… style," he says.

The delicious aroma of baking sweets invades my senses, and I breathe in deeply, my stomach growling in appreciation.

"Fee? You are home earl- Oh! Hello there," the sweet voice sounds from down the hall and quickly cuts off as a beautiful, middle-aged woman with greying, black locks spies me standing awkwardly at Felix's side. She studies me with a polite smile, a tray of baked goods in her hands.

Forgetting for a moment that I look like I have picked a fight with Edward Scissorhands, I wave like a dweeb and squeak a nervous, "Hi!" Before clearing my throat and adding a hasty, "You have a lovely home, ma'am."

Felix chuckles, "My mom isn’t one of those uppity housewives, Roe. She doesn’t give a shit about what you think of her home. However, make fun of her cooking, and you’ll be on her shit list forlife.”

"Oh, shush, Fee," his mom admonishes, approaching us. "Make fun of my cooking, and I'll be faced with the challenge of improving." She stops in front of me with a kind smile on her face as she eyes my hair. "My name is Lynette; you may call me Lyn."

"On a nickname basis already, mom?" Felix teases as he snatches a cookie. "Howunladylikeof you."

Lyn smacks Felix over the ear gently. "Shut it," she says lightly.

Grinning, I give Felix a smack of my own on his opposite ear. "Yes, Felix, shut it. The women are talking."

Lyn grins and nods towards the plate, indicating I should try something.

"I'm Roe," I say as I choose what looks to be cheesecake and jam stuffed with two salted crackers. I take a tentative bite and all but orgasm as the sweet and salty flavors make heaven on my tongue.

"Lyn, this is amazing! My mouth is literally having an orgasm right now."

I blush, realizing exactly who my present company is. I so need to practice my word filtering.

Lyn laughs, easing my embarrassment. "With such praise like that, you are more than welcome into our home any time, Roe."

I grin through my mouthful of cheesecake.

"Sorry to cut this womanly bonding session short, but Roe has a date with my scissors and a hairbrush," Felix cuts in.

My mood sours, but I force myself to smile politely as Felix leads me away, not before he snatches another sweet from his mom.

"Have fun!" Lyn calls, as if this is a play date and not the most dire haircut of my life.

Felix drags me right to the very end of the long hallway before turning into a bedroom that I assume is his.

It is completely different from what I had imagined. Instead of blacks and pinks and emo-boy band posters, I find a neat and almost classic bedroom with honey oak furniture and beige linen. He leads me through the room without pausing and we enter a large bathroom with off-white furnishings and tiles, the top half of the room painted a deep, navy blue.

Felix wastes no time in prepping, sliding a luxurious hairdressing chair out from beneath the bench before collecting a variety of scissors, combs, hairbrushes, and a spray bottle from the cupboards.

"Your throne, My Lady," he teases, gesturing for me to sit on the white, faux-leathered chair. He turns to a set ofdrawers and pulls out a booklet with tiny hair samples sticking out one side.

"Woah, you want to dye my hair too?" I eye the book cautiously. I had never dyed my hair before.

"Absolutely!" he smirks at me.

I scoff. "What, the client doesn’t get a say anymore? This ismyhair we are talking about."

"Yes," he agrees, flicking through the pages. "But you agreed for me to fix that disaster on your head, and I have the perfect new style for you in my head. Now, do you want to know what colors I have chosen for you, or shall we leave it as a surprise?"

"Colors? Plural?" I groan. "Fuck it, surprise me. But if I look like a clown or a hooker, you are fixing it without question!"

Felix steps in behind me. "Girl, what kind of a hairdresser would I be if I let you leave here with a bad style? I got you."

"Then shut up and get on with it," I say with a sigh. "I'm sick of looking at myself.”

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