Bad Girlfriend (First & Last #4) (3 page)

The stores along the main street all seemed to be closed as I walked along.  There was also a Chinese restaurant and a pizza place on the other side of the street, but I was surprised that the stores had closed so early. Coming from the city that never sleeps, I was goin
g to have to get used to this.

The restaurant was exactly as it had looked from the outside.  There was a bar along the whole left wall and a mix of tables and booths for seating. 
It was crowded, but I was able to find a seat at the bar.  A few minutes later the bartender made his way down.

“What can I get for you?”
  he asked, his expression hidden by the ball cap pulled down low over his eyes.

He looked vaguely familiar, but unless his day job was the janitor at my school, I hadn’t met him before.

“I’ll take a Sam Adams and a bacon cheeseburger.”

He nodded and walked away to g
rab my beer out of the fridge.  I took a swig when he set it in front of me and turned my attention to the TV hanging over the bar.  It was tuned to ESPN.  I’d never been one to play sports, unless you counted jogging, but I was an avid spectator.

The oversized man sitting next to me leaned forward, giving everyone behind him
a great view of his ass crack.

“
Walsh!  I’m empty over here,” he slurred while waving his empty beer bottle around.  He weaved to the side, dangerously close to brushing his sweat stained shirt against me.

I checked my watch to make sure it hadn’t become midnight when I wasn’t l
ooking.  Nope.  Still 6:30 pm.

The bartender ambled back over and swiped the
empty bottle from the guy’s hand.  “I think this is a new record for you, Bill.  Cut off before the sun sets.”

Bil
l turned an alarming shade of red and shook a finger at the bartender, who just smirked and shook his head.  When he walked away, Bill fumed for a while longer and then stumbled off his stool and headed for the door, knocking over a chair on his way.

Across the bar, the wall was covered with sports paraphernalia. 
A framed LSU football jersey on the left side caught my eye. 
Walsh.  Number 10.
  That’s why the bartender looked so familiar.

My burger and fries appeared in front of me.

“Hey, are you Ford Walsh?”

“Yup, that’s me.”

I held out my hand.  “It’s great to meet you.  I’m a big fan.”  He had been one of the best quarterbacks in college football a few years back.  “I thought I read you’d taken a coaching job at LSU.”

He
took off his cap to scratch his head and smiled.  “Yeah, well.  There was something better waiting for me back home.  And I still get to coach.”  He pointed to his t-shirt that sported the logo of the high school.  “You’re looking at the new assistant coach of the Penn Yan Tigers.”

His tone was sarcastic, but there was something about the way he said it that told me he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Adam Branigan, new principal of the elementary school.”

“Oh, yeah.
  I heard there was some sort of a scandal with Principal Edwards.  Can’t say I’m too sorry about it though.  The old bastard gave me detention for throwing a pass right through his office window.”  He shrugged.  “Hey, I was only ten.  My passing arm wasn’t fully developed yet.”

Ford left to serve the other customers at the bar, but he stopped back down to bring me my check.  “
Stop in anytime, Adam.  My friends are in here all the time.  I’ll introduce you.”

“Thanks, man.”
  It would be a good idea to get to know people.  Otherwise it was going to be a long lonely year.

Chapter Three

Brooke

My last customer of the day was already ten minutes late for her appointment, and I tapped my
newly painted nails impatiently on the counter of my station.  On any other day I wouldn’t mind staying late, but tonight I had plans.  Important plans.  Chet was taking me out for dinner and then to watch his friend’s band play at a bar.  If Julie Cooper didn’t get her liposuctioned butt in here in the next five minutes, she was only getting a half ass hair cut.

“Why are you so antsy today, Brooke?  Got a hot date tonight?”  Loraine asked me from across the room where she was
doing highlights on Mary Wilson.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do,” I said as I walked to the front window to look for any sign of Julie.  Ha!  There she was, taking her sweet ass time walking down the street.
  As she came closer, I rethought my plan for rushing her through her appointment.  She was going to need the works today.  I could see her roots from a block away.

I may not be the smartest girl in the world, but the one thing I was good at was doing hair.  Not even the promise of an actual date with Chet could keep me from performing magic on Julie’s hair
when it so obviously needed it.

“Hi, Julie.
  Come on in.  I’m ready for you,” I said, holding the door opening and motioning her over to my station.

“Oh!  Thanks, Brooke.”

Julie was a natural brunette who first came to me two years ago after a bad experience with a bottle of Sunshine Blonde.  She had wanted to go lighter and had ended up with hair as white as her bleached teeth.  Fortunately none of her hair fell out, and I was eventually able to restore its natural luster.  Now she was a light caramel color with blonde highlights.  It looked great with her skin tone.  That is until she started stretching her every four week appointment to six weeks.  Her dark roots were grown out a good inch and a half.

I went in the back to
mix up her color and grab some extra foil strips.  When I came back out, Julie was animatedly describing the newest guy to catch her interest.  She was a lot like me in the area of men.  The only difference was that she was married.

It didn’t stop her from ogling every guy in town between the ages of 18 and 35.  Julie herself was
over forty, but apparently she had an eye for younger men.  And I had heard plenty of rumors that she didn’t just look.

Her husband was a doctor, and her only daughter was in high school.  Julie didn’t work, which left her plenty of time to gossip and ogle.  She was a good client, but she wasn’t someone I would want to be friends with.  Sure, I wasn’t exactly the Virgin Mary.  But if I had a husband who loved me, there was no way in hell I would be looking somewhere else.

That was all I have ever wanted.  For someone to love me the most.  To be the woman that one man could love forever.

“So,
Annmarie said she saw him at the grocery story.  Very handsome in an intellectual sort of way.  And obviously he loves children,” Julie gushed.

“Who are you talking about?”  I asked while setting my supplies down on the counter and turning on the water in the sink.

Julie whirled her chair around to face me.  “The new principal at the elementary school. He moved from New York City to replace Principal Edwards after the…incident.   Apparently he’s adorable
and
single.”

“Hmmm,” I murmured as I tilted Julie’s chair back and began to wash her hair.
  “He’s renting my grandma’s garage apartment, but I haven’t met him yet.”

“
Oh, he’s not really your type, Brooke,” Julie replied.

My hands stilled momentarily in her hair.  “What does that mean?”

“Well, you’re always ‘dating’ guys in bands or guys that ride motorcycles or guys with lots of tattoos.  Or all three,” she cackled, quite amused with herself.

I didn’t appreciate the air quotes around “dating”, and I glared into the sink as I continued to wash her hair.

“And this guy is…you know…more of an intellectual type.  Educated,” Julie continued.

I might have raked my nails over her scalp a little too roughly.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry,” I mumbled.  I turned the water off and wrapped a towel around her head.

For the next tediously long twenty minutes while I painted on her highlights, Julie went on and on and on about how great this guy supposedly was.  She hadn’t even met him yet for Christ sake.  By the time I was done with her hair, I could have lived my whole life without hearing another word about Principal Adorable.

While she sat under the dryer, she thankfully ran out of steam on the principal and started in on where she wanted to vacation over Christmas.  I did all the clean up possible while her highlights were setting, so I could leave a
s soon as I was done with her.

After cutting and styling her hair,
I turned Julie’s chair around so she faced the mirror and fluffed her hair forward over her shoulders.  She turned her head from side to side and grinned.

“I swear, Brooke, I don’t know how you do it.  You should be styling the hair of celebrities in Hollywood instead of here in this place,” she said,
waving her hand around Loraine’s salon.

I followed her gaze around the small space.  It was decorated in the mauve, light blue and brass that was popular in the eighties, but now looked painfully outdated.  The tile on the floor was dingy, and the wallpaper was peeling in some places.  Julie was right that I wasn’t suited for this place.  But it was the only salon in town, and I couldn’t imagine moving away.

Loraine stood across the aisle sweeping up the clippings from Mrs. Wilson’s cut and glared at the back of Julie’s head.  I wasn’t the only one offended by Julie’s offhand comments today.  Loraine had been good to me, charging me very little to rent my station and sharing her client base with me.  Over the few years I had worked here, there had been a definite shift in the division of clients between us.  The older ladies stayed with Loraine, while anyone under the age of fifty preferred to schedule with me.

“
Thanks, Julie.  But I like it here,” I said, offering Loraine a small smile.  I rang Julie out and pocketed the tip she gave me.  She might be a snooty bitch, but she tipped well.

It was fifteen minutes later than I would have like
d to leave, so I would have to get ready in record time for my date tonight.  I grabbed the broom to finish cleaning up my area, but Loraine took it from me.

“Go on, girl.  Get out of here.  You’ve been watching the clock all afternoon,” Loraine said in the deep scratchy voice she
had earned from smoking a pack a day most of her life.

“Thanks!”  I said, grabbing my purse and keys and hurrying out
the back door.  I was home in no time and pulled my car in next to my grandma’s in the garage.  The principal’s boring sedan was gone, which meant he wasn’t home.  Julie was right that he likely wasn’t my type, but I had to admit I was curious about the guy now.

“Hi, Gram,” I said as I breezed through the kitchen, stopping only long enough to kiss her cheek.  She was standing at the counter, mixing up some sort of delicious looking cookie dough.  I swiped my finger in the bowl, and she slapped my hand away.

“These are for the church bake sale tomorrow.  You keep your paws off my cookie dough,” she reprimanded me.

“Save some for me,” I yelled as I ran up the stairs.

I jumped in the shower, making sure to shave all the important areas.  Red was another color that was traditionally shunned by redheads, but not me.  My lace bra and panties were bright red, and they looked fantastic against my tan skin if I did say so myself.  I chose a red sundress in keeping with the color theme for the evening and black cowboy boots.

Chet and I had been on and off so many times, but we had never
officially committed to an exclusive relationship.  I hoped that tonight would be the start of us heading down that road.  With only a few minutes before he was supposed to pick me up, I applied a coat of shiny lip gloss and ran my brush through my hair again.

Gram was pulling the final batch of cookies out of the oven when I walked into the kitchen and peeked out the window.  She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

“You look nice, Brooke.  Where are you off to tonight?”

“Chet’s taking me out to dinner, and then who know
s.”

She set the cookie sheet down on the cooling rack and gave me a look.

“What?”  I asked, already on the defensive.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you gave me the look.”

Gram looked at me again, this time with an innocent expression on her face.  “What look is that, dear?”

“You know what I’m talking about.  The look that says you think I’m about to do something stupid.”

She opened her mouth to reply
and then pursed her lips into a scowl when a loud honk sounded in the driveway.

“Is that any way to pick you up for a date?  In my day, if a boy had honked for me, my father
would have introduced him to the wrong end of his shotgun.”

I picked up my purse and kissed her again on the cheek.  “It’s not your day anymore, Gram.”

“Well, a gentleman would still come to the door,” she grumbled.

“Bye, Gram.  Don’t wait up.”