Love and Romance, etc.
A Free Newsletter for romance novel lovers
By Bonnie Williams
Episode 11
Hearsay and Other Evils
“So, Page, has Vinn Kinsey charmed you into the sack yet?”
“Rosie, if you’re trying to get a rise out of me—it’s not going to work.”
“Well, all I know is that boy’s had his eye on you since he was twelve.”
“Yes. And he’s made that fact known since he was ten. He’s a walking horndog with a one track mind.”
“Uh huh—for you.”
Emma couldn’t help but smile to herself at the exchange between her boss and the pretty blonde plumber lady with the enviable slim body and smiling eyes that kept glancing at Rosie from the shampoo sink she was repairing.
She knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but given the topic of discussion (i.e. the Kinseys) she just could not help herself. Her mother would have been appalled, but Emma gave herself a mental shrug of indifference, and continued to clear out some of the clutter from her station.
Her next appointment hadn’t arrived yet, which gave her ample time for reflection. A moment to daydream about Blake—reliving that scorcher of a kiss they’d shared in the park, then laughed to herself remembering the look on that rude policeman’s face when she threatened his job. She’d never really follow through on something so heavy-handed, but she enjoyed the moment anyway. Emma was certain, had it not been the cop-makeout-interruptus, she’d have torn Blake’s clothes off and jumped his bones—right there in the park.
That surge of excitement when he touched her could become addictive. Every time he looked at her, her heart did a little rumba dance. Emma had never felt conflicting emotions for a guy before. On the one hand, she loved how he made her feel when they were together, like she was the only woman in the world. Yet on the other, her mother’s mocking voice inside her head nagged at her incessantly. But she knew in her heart there was just something about Blake Kinsey, something exceptional, that even the cynical inner-voice of her mother couldn’t extinguish from her mind.
“Darn it,” she muttered as she snagged one of her own nails on an open nail clipper. She pulled out a nail file to repair the damage. Funny how she was thinking about her mother when it happened. Seemed the woman always brought out her clumsy side.
Her mom, of course, found out about their sham-of-a-date. And as predicted, her mom had plenty to say when she’d called the other night. But Emma was still on an emotional high then—so caught up in her own enthusiasm, she was determined to ignore even the expected biting comments.
“He’s not really interested in you, dear,” she’d said. “He obviously knows of your family’s influence and believes you’re the vehicle for which to achieve his ambition of some sort.” Her mother, as usual, tried to convince her it was for her own benefit that it hadn’t worked—all said in her typical royally condescending tone. That mommy-knows-best voice always that managed to make Emma feel like a perpetual eight-year old.
The words were familiar, but stung just the same. Every boyfriend she’d ever had—Emma went through the same old tired routine, until she stopped dating completely just to get her mother off her back. Until Blake.
“It’s like I’ve always said, those Kinseys are out for what they can get.”
Did her mother really think no man wanted her for herself? Emma wondered if Chad ever went through this with his girlfriends. Somehow, she doubted it.
Thankfully, her mother didn’t know what happened after the date. And Emma wasn’t about to clue her in. Hopefully, no one else would either. She truly enjoyed being with Blake. When was the last time she’d enjoyed being with a man? Sadly, she couldn’t remember.
She looked up from cleaning out her drawer, and caught a glimpse of a woman staring at her. A quick glance around the room, Emma noticed a couple other women in the salon glancing her way and speaking in harsh whispers. She shrugged her shoulders, chose to ignore them and pulled out her appointment book.
When several more minutes went by and her appointment hadn’t shown up, Emma turned to Gilda, Rosie’s other manicurist. “Gilda, do you know if my ten o’clock called to say she’d be late?”
Gilda, who was a middle-aged brunette with a permanent frown etched just above her eyebrows, looked up from her client’s right hand and fixed her overly made up eyes on Emma. “No. She called several days ago,” she said, waving her nail file like a symphony conductor as she spoke. “Had to reschedule on a day you weren’t here.”
It wasn’t the first time this had happened, so Emma probed further. “Why didn’t anyone mention it? It’s not indicated in my appointment book.”
“Must’ve slipped my mind.” She turned back to her client as if the subject was closed.
“Okay, Rosie,” the plumber lady called out as she passed Emma. “I’ll see ya.”
Emma had a thought. “Oh, hey. Um, excuse me. Page, right?”
“Yeah. That’s me,” she said.
“Can I speak to you for a second?” Emma asked as she slapped her hands together to remove the dust from her palms.
Page raised her brow slightly, but gestured for Emma to follow her outside.
As the door closed behind them, they both made their way to a nearby bench the neighborhood kids had recently painted like a Dalmatian, and sat.
“I understand you know the Kinsey brothers,” Emma said, suddenly feeling silly for asking.
“I’ve been down to their place once or twice.” Emma noted the smirk that followed her comment.
“I was wondering if you weren’t busy, I thought we might have lunch.”
“Sounds nice. But I’m running behind schedule today. The old Miller’s place toilet overflowed again. I keep telling Mr. Miller he has to stop flushing coffee grounds.”
“What?” Emma laughed.
“Yeah, he heard it was good luck or something.”
“Good luck for what?”
“Constipation.” They both smiled. “Listen, drop by my dad’s hardware shop tomorrow.” Page gestured toward the gray and white building at the end of the block. “If you’re after dirt, I’m not one to spread gossip. But if you want to girl-talk—it would be a refreshing change from sink slug and copper piping.”
“Great! Oh, I’m Emma, by the way.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Page said as she shook the hand Emma offered. “Heard you and Blake were carrying on in the park the other night.”
“You heard that?” Emma felt her face heat up.
“Hey, I’m not criticizing,” Page said holding up her palms. “I’m glad Blake is finally dating again. And you seem like a nice enough person.” She shook Emma’s hand again as she stood. “I figure we’ll get along fine, Emma.” She then got in her pickup and drove off.
Emma thought she was going to like Page as well. She turned on her heel and walked back through the door to face Gilda—the client-stealing rat. When she stepped inside the door, everyone stopped speaking. But not before she heard her name and something about “curse” and “the date.” Emma felt her ears burn. “What?” she said harshly looking about the place. “If anyone has got a problem with me, then just say so.” When no one said a word, Emma sighed and shook her head, regretting her impulsive words the moment they left her lips. And after a moment of uncomfortable silence, she walked to her station. Gilda’s client gave Emma an odd look before she paid Gilda then left. “Gilda,” Emma said more sternly than she meant to. “Why are you trying to take my customers away?” Her confidence wavered a little but she was determined.
“I’m not doing any such thing. It’s not my fault if your customers prefer to work with someone who actually has skills they’ve earned.”
“What’s that suppose to mean?”
Gilda’s caterpillar-eyelashes lowered as resentment filled them. “Not everyone has parents like yours to buy their way into what ever they want.”
Her stomach suddenly wedged in her throat, Emma was unable to reply to Gilda’s accusations. If she did, she might throw up, and she was humiliated enough as it was. It didn’t help that she continued to hear voices drift around the salon.
“It doesn’t take a fancy education or a high-ranking mama to know why that Kinsey boy has hooked up with you.”
Emma had no idea to how handle such unwelcome frankness. Whether the biting comments were meant as truth or deception, she couldn’t tell. Regardless, it was enough to send her thoughts from disbelief to a gnawing uncertainty. Could she have been deceived with Blake’s feelings for her? She was becoming more uncomfortable by the minute. No, she wasn’t about to let the old bat who probably hadn’t been laid in ten years get the best of her. She was about to lean forward and tell Gilda where she could put it, but before she found the courage, she heard someone make an anxious cough as Rosie came up behind her.
“That’s enough, Gilda. Do you have any more appointments today?”
Gilda tightened her lips and shook her head.
“Good,” Rosie said. “Now go on home. Emma can take over for any walk-ins.” Despite everything, Emma smiled at Rosie. She was a big woman. Not tall by any means, but what she lacked in height she more than made up for in girth. “You all right, hon?” she asked Emma after Gilda grabbed her purse and left.
“Does everyone feel that way about me?”
“Don’t listen to that worn-out old crone. She been unhappy since her husband left her for a twenty-year old mud wrestler from Pasadena.” She gave Emma a sympathetic smile, avoiding the question all together. “Can I get you a cappuccino or something?”
“No thanks. I—“ Just then, Emma looked out the salon window to see Blake’s devastating form across the street—with his arms around a woman. She looked vaguely familiar, but Emma couldn’t place her. She had flowing auburn hair and long legs. They were standing near the front entrance to Pumpkin’s veterinarian. Emma found herself studying Blake’s profile as he spoke to the woman. To her dismay, Blake held the woman’s face in his hands, then placed his arm around her shoulders. She nodded up at him as they both turned and faced the salon. When Blake spotted Emma he gave her a friendly, heart-stopping smile. The man actually had to gall to wave in her direction—with his arm around another woman.
And Emma felt her heart sink. Maybe her mother was right after all.
THE LONELY GUYS
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