If the Wind Were a Woman by Kelly Sinclair

Author:Kelly Sinclair
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781935627975
Publisher: Blue Feather Books LTD.
Published: 2011-03-15T03:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Gracie had the men mesmerized by her tush, which she’d encased in tight-fitting jeans and wiggled around the chair as she worked on the customer’s hair.

Barbara was next in line, but there were two young men sitting beside her, one of whom she learned wasn’t there for a haircut, but joined his friend because he “had nothing better to do.”

Both of them were goggle-eyed. They’d not had the privilege of seeing Gracie dance at the gay bar in Lubbock. A drag queen once asked Gracie out on a date—that’s how potent the hips were to an unprepared viewer.

A hard-edged beautician working the station next to Gracie announced, “I can take one of y’all, if you’re in a hurry.”

They paid her no attention. Barbara had enough manners to say that she had an appointment with Gracie.

The woman rasped, “I imagine you do. Yes, ma’am.”

“Your hair’s looking so nice now,” Gracie cooed to the man in her chair.

He was a weathered ranch hand whose lank locks had been trimmed and shaped into a style shorter on the sides and top, but longer on the back. It looked different, but nice.

“Your girlfriend will love it.”

His face blushed under his tan.

“Oh, you don’t have a novia? Handsome boy like you, makes my heart go pitter-pat.” One more snip, then she brushed hair off his shoulders, whipped off the cape, and trilled, “Now go, and watch how the women faint at your feet.”

The man, who looked as though an estrogen train had run him over, emptied his wallet and left.

Barbara’s turn. Chaired and draped, she didn’t bother suggesting how she wanted her hair done. She’d learned from experience that Gracie didn’t pay attention, which was why Barbara had stuck with her old hairstylist until she had no choice but to go elsewhere.

“Look at your hair,” Gracie said mournfully. “It hasn’t been treated properly. You shouldn’t have been going to that place. They didn’t love your hair the way they should have. I’ll make it look better. You’re a beautiful woman, so your hair should be, too.”

Gracie turned to the men sitting behind them. “Don’t you think she’s pretty?”

The men gladly agreed. But other customers, women in various stages of curlers and cuts, kept quiet.

Gracie played to her fans as she began snipping. “You’re so tall and skinny, I don’t see how you can get around on a windy day. Someone hits you with a feather, you’d fall down. See, I’m cutting your bangs so everyone can see how pretty a face you have. Oh no, what happened here?”

Gracie pretended to see the bandage for the first time.

“It’s a cut. A scar, actually,” Barbara said.

“It needs to breathe to get better.” Gracie whipped off the bandage. She gasped. It didn’t sound faked. “You poor thing. Who did this to you?”

Gracie of course knew the answer.

“It doesn’t matter. Nobody cares, anyway,” Barbara said reluctantly.

“Why wouldn’t they care? Even a criminal, he serves his time and gets out of prison someday. He doesn’t have a brand on him.

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