Page 18 of Valentine's Day Proposal

“Payne, McKenzie Payne.” She smiled stupidly as if I even cared about her name, and then continued. “My question is actually for your wife. Mrs. Perish, do you intend to have children and how do you feel about your husband’s policies in the future? Would you support them for your children and the kids of the state of Maryland?”

Willow blushed, glancing at me. There was an awkward silence before she replied with a very calculated response, for which neither Peter nor I had prepared her.

“Sure, Kenzi. Such a great name, by the way. I think Charles is right on the money with his education stance, and I’d be delighted if my children attended any school in his influence.”

My chest tightened as I listened to Willow speak about having children. There was a lightness about her speech, and a seriousness all the same. She really did want kids; I could tell by the look in her eye. Which only needled away at the suspicion Peter had planted in my mind that she had potentially aborted my baby years ago.

It didn’t matter what question was asked after that; every single one of them was an irritant. I became irrationally irritable and moody. Willow and Peter both tried to snap me out of it, but I knew the only way to dislodge the thorn in my saddle was to just talk to her about it. But I wouldn’t.

I couldn’t. I didn’t want to know the answer.

So, I took over the act of being the robot, running a code that forced my physical body to perform in the appropriate method until we returned home and I crashed. This time, in my own bed. I wasn’t sleeping on the couch ever again. And when Willow came to bed, she didn’t say a word. She slept under the covers, and I slept over the covers.

16

WILLOW

The salon was bustling with activity and conversation. Mel sat to my right, both of us with our heads wrapped in plastic and situated beneath massive dryers to take advantage of the heat. Highlights were the name of the game today, prepping for a few summer rallies that I wanted to look good for. Charles couldn’t care less, but I’d seen those events broadcasted on television and picked apart the women’s appearances. I had no intention of being the talk of the day at any event just because my roots were showing.

I tried to relax, flicking through a magazine I held in my hands, but I couldn’t concentrate on it. The conversations around me kept me distracted and unfocused. Mel kept glancing at me and frowning, but I wasn’t the sort of person to have a private conversation in a public place, least of all a salon. Everyone knew the place to gossip was at the salon where women all congregated and told stories to one-up each other with how glamorous or devastating their lives were on any given day.

“You look miserable,” Mel said, a little too loudly. The blowers on the hair dryers were quite loud. She must not have understood that the noise was deafening to us because of our proximity to the source, but her shout was louder and would carry throughout the salon.

I shrugged, and shook my head, trying to discourage her from talking, but she didn’t get the point. Or maybe she got the point and ignored it. Sometimes she was like that.

“Is it too hot?” She reached up beneath her dryer and touched her plastic-wrapped head. I never did like those dryers; they always gave me the mental picture of brainwashing—giant honeycombs on your head that sent telepathic radio waves to your brain.

“No.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine.” I spoke at a lower volume, but it still drew attention. The beautician who had worked on my hair was drawn like a magnet. She shuffled over to me and folded the dryer up.

"Let’s see here. What do we have?” I felt her mess with the plastic on my head, likely checking to make sure the bleach wasn’t overdeveloping. “Looks like we’re good to rinse,” she announced happily, and I stood, just as happily, and followed her to the sinks. Mel’s beautician took a bit longer, which gave me a respite from her prying.

I relaxed back in the seat next to a woman who was getting her hair washed. My stylist disappeared for a moment as I lay back, resting my head on the side of the sink. The woman next to me and her hairdresser carried on about a woman named Karen, who was “obviously such a pitiful case.” I tried not to pay attention, but it was difficult given the fact that they were only a few feet away.

“Yeah, such a shame. It’s like that with most political arrangements, isn’t it? The man does it for the prize of power and money. The woman falls for him anyway, and in the end, he proves his true colors by sleeping around.” The stylist smacked her gum as she worked on the woman’s hair.

“Repulsive really. Who would agree to an arranged marriage? Karen should have known better. Heath was a creep from the time she met him, and this arrangement just proves it.” The woman glanced at me and smiled, and I felt my cheeks flush realizing I had been looking at her. “What about you dear? You heard about the latest scandal?”

I shook my head, praying my stylist would return quickly. “I haven’t.”

“My god, where has she been, Gloria?” The stylist working on the woman whom I now knew as Gloria shut the water off and shook her head. “It turns out one of the senators from Ohio, Heath Green, cheated on his wife with his personal assistant.” The woman’s eyes were large like saucers. “It was pretty public too. His wife left him, and the assistant exposed some other corruption going on in his office. It’s all over the news. It all came out the day before yesterday, right after that vote they had.”

I cringed at the announcement for more than one reason, the primary one being how I hated gossip anyway, and now I felt trapped into some sort of drama response just to play the part of the political wife. I had no idea if these women even knew who I was, or if they were just conveniently sharing this bit of gossip to warn me of something I needed to know.

I was never more grateful to the fates than the very millisecond my hairdresser returned and stood between us. She cut off my view of the gossiping duo and started talking right away, completely unaware she had interrupted a conversation. I relaxed and jumped into the chat with her, thus avoiding having to respond to the other women.

“So, are you getting gussied up for something special?” The stylist set a bottle of shampoo down on the sink next to my head and started peeling the layers of plastic away from my hair.

“Nothing specific, I just like to look nice.” I smiled, thankful to be talking about anything besides the political marriage scene. I was well aware that I was in just another business arrangement, and even though Charles and I had fucked a few times, he wasn’t mine. Unfortunately, my heart was getting attached. I didn’t want to end up like Karen from that horror story out of Ohio.

“Well, you’re going to look fabulous! Oh, shoot. I forgot the conditioner.” The woman wadded the plastic up and tossed it, then continued. “I’ll be right back.”

She scurried away and my next worst nightmare approached. Mel stood over me grinning. “You are going to be gorgeous,” she said, touching my hair lightly. I knew she was attracted to me, which was always a tense conversation to have, but right now with me being on edge I wasn’t in the mood to have that conversation. Maybe choosing her as my salon buddy wasn’t the best idea.

“Thanks.” I sighed. Who knew a trip to the salon would be anything other than relaxing.

Mel glanced around the room then bent over me and whispered, “Listen, I heard what those women said.” She eyed them, though they were lost in their conversation about Karen and Heath. “This is why I never wanted you involved in this shit, Willow. You’re going to get your heart broken.” Mel squeezed my hand. “I’m worried about you. You know? What if Charles does that exact same thing? You’ve seen the way that bitch Nina looks at him. What if he’s already doing it?”

I patted her hand, watching my stylist approach out of the corner of my eye. “I’m fine, Mel. I appreciate you worrying about me. It’s just a business arrangement, okay? No different than you and I working together. We both play our part; I get paid, and then I can expand the firm.”

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