Blanche: The Real Soccer Moms of Beaver County #1 by HJ Bellus & Magan Vernon

Author:HJ Bellus & Magan Vernon [Bellus, HJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

Pet Taxidermy, WTF?

I push open the door to the beauty shop next to the funeral home, mortuary, my childhood home…just sounds so fucked up saying it. I need to make an appointment to get my highlights touched up and since this is the only place in town, I don’t have much choice. Dollywood, only miles away is known for all their hair salons and cutting edge techniques, but that would be like going into the enemies den. Once a high school rival town, always a high school rival town and the hometown of Douchey Doug.

I still hadn’t seen my ex-boyfriend, but I knew he was around. The guy never left Beaver Falls, and I knew that with all of the emails and texts he sent once I left.

The salon surprises my eyes as soon I step inside with its blaring music, bright chrome trimmings, and the vibrant contrast between hot pink and black covering every single surface.

“Hello,” I call out.

“Be with you in a second.” A voice comes out from an open door that leads back into a storeroom.

The voice is a deep and rough one. I wouldn’t expect anything less than an old frumpy woman with a bad smoker cough doing hair in Beaver Falls. This place would never attract a young and enthusiastic hair stylist since most of the customers are a set, wet, and curl and the other ones are customers at my dad’s morgue.

Frannie use to spend hours in the basement of the morgue making sure the deceased’s hair was perfect and exactly how their family requested. Frannie was the first person to introduce me to fashion and style. It only took me assisting her in the morgue to fuel my thirst for a higher fashion.

What a warped world I was brought up in? Hell, I’m lucky I’m not the next Miss Maggot in town. Single, smelly, and slimy.

I pluck a current edition of Vogue from the table in the waiting area. I’ll give it to this old bag; she does have some style from the bling in her salon, color combinations, and reading material.

“How may I help you?” A deep voice asks.

When I look up, I have to blink a dozen times before standing up to my feet. My hands clutch my chest and my words stick in my throat.

“Blanche.”

“Quincy.”

His face twists into a disgusting look and then he raises his hand high above his head. “Honey, ain’t nobody called me that damn name in years. I’m Queenie now to everyone.”

“Queenie,” I smile feeling each sound roll of my tongue.

“That’s me, Blanche.”

Excitement takes over as I bounce into his open arms. He still smells like a rose garden drenched in his floral perfume. I force myself to step back and take all of him in. His hair is bleach blond on the top, skin covered in tattoos, ears gauged and piercings everywhere.

“This one is for you.” He pulls up his short black sleeve to expose his bicep.

“A pork chop?” I tilt my head, wrinkle my nose, and try to connect the dots.

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