Page 24 of Half Blind

Lemon's mouth hung open. Helen enjoyed shocking her. She continued to water plants as she spoke.

“I went to Bad Apple's place to learn intake, budgeting, and setting up a new home for the life of a Technician. He was also to assess my skill sets and fit for purpose, I guess you could say,” Helen said. “I'm here early because I shut down, with the help of Mr. Yield, three Fields of Flowers in Milwaukee. Tonight, I'm probably going to hunt locally to see if there are any in the area that I can fuck up and shut down while I'm in Ohio.”

“You're scary,” Lemon said.

“No, I am a woman tired of being a victim,” she said to Lemon. “In this life, that bullshit about eat or be eaten is a crock of malarkey. We make connections, we care for others, and we look out for the little guy. In between all of that, you find yourself another warm body who is okay with your weird shit and makes you moan like a back-alley whore, and you make that person a meal when they walk in the door from work and let them know someone is happy that they made it home.”

“You make it sound simple,” Lemon said. “The caliber of men out there is low. They want a hole to stick in their junk, and if they have more than one available, they are happy with that too.”

“Not true,” she said. “I have been around a few men as of late who aren't like that. Trust me, I asked if that was their intention, and they were honest that it wasn't. A prime example is the man you've invited in to warm himself by the fire tonight. He's been here for ten days. He hasn't said an out-of-place word to you or the girls. Jared even showed Bria and Ayanna how to change a tire, check the oil and fluids in a vehicle, and use basic self-defense moves, without making body contact with either of them.”

“He's gay,” Lemon said.

“Not the way he watches your ass when he thinks no one is looking,” Helen said. “Hell, at one point, I saw that man taking a moment to let the bulge in his pants go down before he came out from behind that tractor when he was talking to you yesterday. He's very much hetero and very much wants a night in your arms.”

“The Devil in Hell wants a cold glass of lemonade, and I am not the one serving,” Lemon said, laughing. “Seriously? He's not gay?”

“Not in the least, but his aura is dark. He's running from something, and here is where he's hiding, but whatever it is, Lemon, it's about to catch up with him,” Helen said. “Did you notice how antsy he's getting?”

“No, now I'm wondering what I can whip up to make him last long enough to make me squirt,” she said, pressing her hand to her chest. “Why did you say that? Now I'm going to be antsy. You suck dirty nipples, Helen!”

“Sorry, don't go that way, don't care if you are cute and smart,” Helen said, laughing. “Whatever you create, make enough for me to take home for date night. At this rate, I may need a weekend off. Let me calculate the drive time from here to home.”

****

THE NIGHT BEFORE THEbig show, his hair, which he often wore loose when he wasn't working, was kindly cornrowed into four large braids which fit neatly under his cap. In the bathroom, he used his fingers to loosen the braids so he could wash his hair. It had been nearly twenty-two days since the hair had been braided, and since then, he'd sweated like an old workhorse, not to mention being tossed around by a tornado. Adding insult to the many injuries sustained by his body over the years, the shower in the barn was shit. Today, he stood under the showerhead in the bathroom inside Lemon's home, simply allowing the water to beat down on his skull, enjoying the full heat from a hot water heater and the wonderful water pressure.

Jared lathered up his hair, looking at the grey suds on his fingers, not expecting them to be white after nearly 22 days of sweat. He stood under the water as it rinsed away the yuck, and he lathered again, rinsed, and lathered once more to be sure. When and if time allowed, he'd stop in to see his oldest sister who ran a beauty salon, but that would be no time soon, all things considered. He applied a generous amount of conditioner to the tresses, saturating the coils from the follicle to the end of the hair, allowing it to sit while he scrubbed his body.

He'd added a load to the laundry before taking the shower as well, happy that everything would be clean for when the brown delivery van arrived with the parts to his vehicle in the morning. He would put the parts on the truck, and by noon, he'd be on his way toward Cleveland. In more ways than one, he was ready to leave. The girls were getting under his skin, and he sort of, kind of, almost liked them. They reminded him of his two youngest sisters, mischievous and sneaky. It wasn't his place to tell them that sneaky often resulted in an unwanted dick inside of you.

“Not your place,” he said softly, washing his body, rinsing, and washing again. “This water pressure is amazing.”

He washed one last time, rinsed his body, then his hair, before turning off the taps. He rotated his shoulder, hoping to have at least a few more acetaminophen tablets in his bag. The leg wound was healing nicely, and he'd actually put on a few pounds of muscle and meat on his bones in the past ten days. The seat of his jeans wasn’t sagging, and his belly didn't seem to be sunken in and trying to touch his spine.

Toweled dry and wearing a loose-fitting pair of loungers and a white tank, he exited the bathroom with a towel around his hair. It drew the attention of four pairs of eyes. He gave a tight smile.

Ayanna, the outspoken one, stayed true to form, asking, “Mr. Jared, how much hair do you have under that towel?”

He removed it, showing off a head full of black hair, standing on end. “I have $50 for the person who is willing to braid it for me.”

Lemon spoke up, “I got you. Any preference on oils, or do you trust me to use what I have?”

“Nope, don't trust you at all,” he said, looking at Helen. “Ms. Helen, can you braid it for me?”

“I can, but she offered,” Helen said.

“She is also still angry and resentful of me over Larry and Curly; therefore, I don't want her hands in my head,” he said. “Forgive me, but I have sisters. I know the stuff pissed off women do to men. My trust meter is always on red. Thanks for the offer though, I appreciate you.”

“Well!” Lemon huffed, crossing her legs.

Jared, nonplussed by her snit, asked, “Helen, floor or a chair?”

“Chair is fine,” she said, thinking him on the floor between her legs would be a bit too intimate. “You have a comb?”

“No, not on me,” he said.

“No worries,” she told him, heading to her room for the jar of hair oil she used on her own tresses.

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