Tetterbaum's Truth by S.R. Claridge

Author:S.R. Claridge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, suspense, mystery, chicago, angel, mafia, mob
Publisher: Global Publishing Group LLC

CHAPTER TWELVE

The trip to the salon turned out to be just that, an adventure, especially for her hair. Angel got into the passenger side of Bessie and lowered the visor mirror, staring at her reflection with terror. Never let a bunch of seventy-year-old women pick out a hairstyle for you, she scolded herself. Her dark brown hair was teased higher than people wore it in the eighties. She looked like a cross between Jackie O and Elvira. At least her split ends got a good trimming, though she was pretty sure Elsa had split a bunch more with all the teasing.

Despite the fact that she didn’t want anyone to see the way she looked, Angel asked Olga to drop her off at the pub. She was desperate to find a new chef and needed to review any new applications that had come in. “I’ll have Andrew bring me home later,” she promised.

“Merciful heavens, child, don’t walk home,” Olga warned as Angel pushed open the door to exit Bessie.

She rolled her eyes, “I’ll be fine.”

“I know you’ll be fine,” Olga said. “I’m just worried you’ll be picked up for prostitution with that hairdo.” She chuckled low and raspy.

“You’re not helping,” Angel scowled.

“I can’t help it,” she laughed, “I’ve never seen hair so high. You’ve got hooker hair.”

Angel pushed down on it with the palm of both hands. “I can’t get it to go down,” she grunted, which made Olga burst into a full-on belly laugh. “This is your fault,” Angel said, pointing her finger at Olga. “Your friends did this to me.”

Olga’s eyes were watering from the laughter, “Oh goodness,” she said, “Elsa didn’t mean it. She’s not used to working on anyone with long hair.”

“What was your first clue?” Angel blurted sarcastically, pointing at her poufy do.

“We old ladies all have short hair so when you tease it up it gives us just the right amount of body.” Olga drove off laughing, and Angel tried to flatten her hair one more time before walking inside the pub.

She entered the dining room and was relieved to see it empty. Empty was bad for business but good for no one seeing her hair. Then Andrew came around the corner of the bar and was barely able to stifle a laugh. “Omigod,” he exclaimed, “did you get tasered again?”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.

“Seriously, what happened to your hair?” He couldn’t keep a straight face and, despite the humiliation, Angel thought this might be the comic relief they needed to break the tension between them.

“I went to Olga’s hair salon to do some research.”

“What were you researching? The effects of too much mousse?” He covered his mouth with his hands to try and hide the fact that he couldn’t stop grinning.

“Oh, this isn’t mousse,” she ranted. “We’re talking old school here.”

“Old school?” Andrew grimaced.

She nodded and her poufy hair jiggled, causing Andrew to break into a chuckle. “It’s not funny. They actually teased and sprayed it up this high and I don’t know if it will ever come back down.

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