Online Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE
Ilianna rushed  through the elegant Art-Deco door of the Tressed For Success beauty  salon.  She glanced momentarily at its stained glass portrait of a  reclining diva; her hair languidly flowing behind her across the cobalt blue  glass like seaweed on the surface of a tidal pool.  The cold blast of air  pumping from the air-conditioned interior was a welcome relief to the almost  unbearable heat outside.  It was already humidly stifling and it was barely 10  a.m.  Before leaving home, she had hurriedly dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and  sandals for the afternoon powwow that she planned on attending after her visit  to the salon.  As she entered the shampoo and dye perfumed air of the shop, she  wondered why she was even bothering to have her hair done.  In this heat, it  would only be a frizzed disaster by mid-afternoon.  Besides, who did she know  that would notice either way!  On the other hand, a visit with James was always  a delight and she hadn’t seen him in several weeks.  She could hardly wait to  catch up on what he had been doing.  He always had some silly story or juicy bit  of gossip about his trips and friends to impart to her while he styled her  hair.  She sighed deeply and thought, ‘At least, HE was doing something beyond  just surviving each day.  I’ve got to get out of this rut, go somewhere, do  something!’

 She flounced into the tiny salon with its  single station and flopped down into the empty styling chair while she listened  to James finish making an appointment on the phone. 

 James hung up, turned, and frowned at her while  he swept up his mug of steaming cappuccino from the counter in front of her.

  “You’re late!” he announced as he took a  tentative sip of the steaming froth.

 “No I’m not!” she countered.  “I’m actually  half and hour early for a change!”

 “Excuuuuseee me, honey, but you are late by  almost an hour!”

 “James, look at your clock, it is not yet  10:30!  In fact, it is barely after TEN!  I’m early.”

 “Your appointment was at 9:00,  sweetheart—you’re late.”

 “My appointment was at 10:30,” Ilianna whipped  out her Day-timer, flipped to the page and pointed indignantly at the notation  at the top of the page. “See?!”

 “Well, I guess you are early, kiddo, about a  month early by that!” James’ eyebrow arched triumphantly.

 “What?!”  Ilianna pulled the book back out from  under James disdainful look and search the page. “Oh my gosh, this is next  month’s appointment.”

 “Bingo!”

 “James, I’m sooo sorry, I mean, I really “ she  started flipping back through the pages “thought it was 10:30” she continued to  search through the dates, “and it’s …at…uh…ninnnnnnee..” The last trailed off to  a murmur as she realized what she had done.

 “Okay, so that’s it, no hug, no ‘Hi, James, how  are you doing?’  Just in the door and into the chair!  Allllrighhttyy then,”  James said doing his Jim Carey impersonation, “no matter, Pearl cancelled at the  last minute so you are in luck.  She would have been my next appointment AFTER  you--had you been on time if she hadn’t cancelled.” He set his cup down gently  and turned back to her, “No matter.  Cap?”

 She shook her head no, bounced back up and  embraced him, “Thank you, James!  But I really wasn’t late, I was just a little too early,” she clicked her tongue at him and tried to play  coy.

“Yeah, right!  So, you were an hour late for  your last appointment and a month early for your next.  Just don’t push it,  Illy,” then he smiled back at her.

She gave him another quick hug then shoved him  back to arm’s length and looked him up and down with a smile.  Lustful thoughts  filled her mind.  He was good looking!  He had that dark, dashing  Errol-Flynn-sort-of-look that her Mother’s generation was so gah-gah over--and,  besides, he was fun in the best of the both worlds sort of way of boy-friend,  girl-friend rolled into one! 

“You know that look won’t fly with me, chickie  babe,” he said trying to maintain the stern look and voice that the smile had  already displaced.  “Okay, let’s get started, or I will be overlapping  appointments!” he said as he turned to pick up the brush.  It slipped from his  hand and he deftly spun and scooped it up with a sweeping motion before it hit  the floor.  “Whoops, coffee jitters,” he murmured.

“And, just how many have you had so  far?”

“Three doubles…but…who’s counting!”

“I am, after all it’s my hair that’s at  stake…”

“No, problemo”, James said as he flipped the  brush into the air.  It did a triple spin before he deftly caught it behind his  back and then fumbled it as he brought it around.

“Hmmmmm….” Ilianna eyeballed the maneuver, “my  point exactly.”

His action triggered a forgotten memory of  James, months back, poised on the lane at the bowling alley, ballerina-style,  addressing the ball, literally (Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him Horatio but I  thought he had more hair)--ready to hurl it towards the pins at the other end of  the alley.  She smiled at the memory of him trying out each “new” bowling  technique one after another.  Truth was, this was only the second time he had  ever been bowling in his life.  He had enticed her to go with him, as he put it,  just  “for the halibut”.  She hadn’t been bowling since she was a kid and she  had to admit she was pretty rusty at it, too.  When she was with Marshall, her  ex-husband, it was not socially acceptable, as he put it, to lower one’s social  standing by doing something so ‘mundane’ as bowling.  Tennis, golf, or  bridge—those were the choices he put to her.  Maybe that’s why she had enjoyed  her bowling day with James so much—it was just one more socially unacceptable  breakthrough she could flaunt in the face of the social ‘elite’ she no longer  cared about…Marshall included. 

She smiled inwardly at the thought of her and  James at the bowling alley carrying on like two kids.  She was bad but her  bowling technique was almost professional compared to his.  He had run the gamut  of bowling styles including the traditional one-two-three release; the Ralph  Cramden ‘and away we go’ throw; the toddler two-handed roll; the break dance  release, drop to the floor, and recover (swearing up and down he hadn’t simply  ‘slipped’); and, as he named it “…the ever popular Fred Flintstone ‘Yabadabadoo’  pin buster….”--except it was the pins in the other lane that were busted…well,  tapped was probably a better description of what actually transpired.

She had to admit, he was fun to be with and  really funny!  He could have her laughing at almost nothing five minutes after  they got together.  There were times when she would be doubled over with  laughter, holding her sides because they hurt so from laughing with neither one  of them able to stop.  She remembered there had been near hysterical occasions  when the tears rolled down her cheeks causing her mascara to swirl into ‘raccoon  eyes’; and he still wouldn’t give her a break.  He just continued making her  laugh even harder until she thought she was going to wet herself.

‘Too bad he is gay.  It seems like all the  really great guys were gay.  It just doesn’t seem fair,’ she thought. 

For a moment she let herself fantasize about  dating him.  No, it was better as a friendship.  James knew her better than  anyone else knew her, including her ex.  He kept her on the ‘straight’ (she  smiled inwardly at her little pun) and narrow.  Never criticized her unduly.   Listened to her bitch for hours on end without saying a word until she was  exhausted from her tirade, then he would simply say something like, ‘Okay, are  we done feeling sorry for ourselves?’ or ‘Alright already, enough about you now  let’s talk about me’.  Occasionally it would be, ‘Reality check time, Illy’ and  then he would proceed to give her some very good advice; most of which, out of  stubbornness, she would ignore, at least for a day or two.  After which she  would have to admit it was very good advice; not that she followed it even  then.  Yet, she knew exactly why she was attracted to him—he was safe.  As a  man, he was attractive and fun to be with but his feminine side gave him the  compassion and understanding most males negated.  She never denied that he was  her best friend.

Ilianna smiled at him, “You  know, I’ve missed you!  We used to at least do lunch once and  awhile.”

“Ah, the trials and tribulations of an upwardly  mobile working girl,” he sighed rolling his eyes mocking her. 

She wrinkled her nose at him as she sat back  down in the chair and swiveled it with her toe to face the mirror.  He set the  brush back on the counter and picked up a comb and began to run it through her  hair.

“You’re just lucky Miss Pearl Elizabeth  cancelled,” he said glancing at her reflection in the mirror, “Pearl Elizabeth  Gates…Pearl E. Gates…her parents should have been shot!” James mused, “No wonder  she’s still single at 80 with a name like that.  A man would be afraid that life  with her might just be a reflection of her name.”

“JAMES!  That’s not nice.  She’s a sweet old  lady and you know it!”

Despite her reprimand she couldn’t help but  giggle at the name and, yeah, James was right, her parents should have been  shot!

“So, tell me what’s going on?!” he said changing  the subject.  He glanced at her in the mirror cocking one eyebrow like a  question mark.

“Nunca, Nada, Nothing!”

“Sounds pretty boring to me!”

“It is,” she sighed.

“Sooooo, why not do something about  it?”

“Yeah, right!  And what do you suggest?” She  snorted and rolled her eyes up at him from the side as she watched him in the  mirror.

James lifted a strand of her long, limp hair as  if it were a repugnant, dead thing.  “Well, for starters, this hair is pretty  boring.  Let’s do something to give it some life.  Maybe that’ll give you a new  attitude!”

“People are already accusing me of having too  much attitude--you included.  And, I’m not letting you dye it green!”

He dropped the offending strand of hair back  into place, leaned over her shoulder addressing her in the mirror, and said,  “Sweetheart, green is out!  Haven’t you heard?!”  He stood back, cocked his head  from side to side while he appraisingly fluffed her hair with his fingertips.   “All I want to do it is brighten up the color a little.  Give it some spark,  some vitality.  Some ‘joie de vivre’.”

“Why not,” Ilianna sighed and  shrugged.

“Could use a trim, too.  What have you been  brushing it with?  A curry comb?”

She looked in the mirror as she frowned and  playfully stuck out her tongue.  She studied her face a moment longer in the  mirror.  Encroaching ‘laugh-lines’ that tilted up from the sides of her  blue-green eyes.  A smattering of freckles that ran across the bridge of her  nose spreading out onto her flushed cheeks--not as prominent as on most redheads  with fair skin but still there, nonetheless.  She tilted the chin of her oval  face to study the faint lines around her mouth and eyes; so far the only sign of  her age.  She had been told numerous times that she was pretty but she had grown  up gangly as a kid and still had that image burned into her memory.  It was hard  for her to see herself as anything other than tomboyish.  She knew she was by no  means ugly, but she just couldn’t seem to convince herself she was pretty,  either.  On the plus side, she knew she had poise and a flair for clothes not  that it showed in the dressed down look she sported lately.  She turned her head  from side to side checking to see how much damage the ‘laugh lines’ were doing  when James’ voice brought her out of her reverie.

“So, what soiree are you off to tonight?” he  asked as he primped at her hair, first lifting it to shorten it to shoulder  length, then twisting it around his hand into a bun on the back of her head.   Each creation was abruptly judged and discarded with a pursing of the lips, an  appraising squint of the eye, and an imperceptible shake of the head.

“Soiree?  Where’d you get that idea?” Ilianna  snorted, “I’m going to the powwow.”

“You’re kidding!  Drums and Indians--excuse me  ‘Native Americans,' we must be politically correct,” he interjected then  continued, “and all that?”

“And all that,” she chuckled a low, throaty  chuckle…..

 

CHAPTER THREE

She had been fumbling with her seat belt when she looked up and became  aware of a man circling around the front of her car from the passenger’s  side.  He seemed to be inspecting the tires.  She  wondered if she had a flat.  Coming across these washboard roads to the powwow  grounds was no easy task.  It was possible that she could have a flat.  Ilianna  let the window down on the passenger side and leaned over to peer out at  him.

 "Is there something wrong?"

 He straightened up and looked at her through  the windshield, "Lost my car."

 "What?!"

 "Would you believe it, I lost my car!  Can't  remember where I parked."

 Ilianna looked around.  How could he have lost his car?  There were only a few dozen  cars left scattered throughout the whole field.  Almost everyone was already  gone.

 He came around to the driver's side and gave  her a big grin.   She quickly looked him over, appraising the possible threat he  might pose.  Having lived in or near the city most of her life, her first  instinct was to get a good, clear description--just in case. His hair was long  and hanging loose.  It wasn't quite black.  It was more what she would have  termed in her artist's years as "Van Dyke” brown.  There were streaks of gray  throughout it but his face was youthful belying the gray.  He was dressed in a  dark blue Hanes' T-shirt, faded jeans, and scuffed Reeboks.  He was of average  height and stocky build.  He was not strikingly handsome by any means, but his  face had a little boy look to it.  Round--is what she thought as she looked at  him.  Small round nose, round cheeks, round face, round eyes--round and cute.   He was still smiling, it was catching; she found herself smiling back. It was a  broad, full, open, and endearing smile.  It came from a person who smiled often  and unselfconsciously.  The teeth were even and white but not flashy.  They were  just there to emphasize the open, engaging quality of the smile.

 "How could you lose your car?  It's not like  this is a Wal-Mart parking lot...” Ilianna’s tone reflected how incredulous the  situation was to her.

 "Dunno,” he shrugged noncommittally, still  smiling.  “Oh, there it is."  He pointed to a small, red Taurus parked one row  behind Ilianna’s tan Volvo and down the line a little.   "Funny, huh!" he smiled  broader and shrugged again.

 He just stood there, looking first towards her  and then towards the car and back again.  He flashed that grin again and  shrugged with his palms out in a ‘can-you-imagine-that’ pose.  Then he placed  them on his hips as he continued to look at her through the window not  moving.

 "Headed home?” The accent was the clipped,  nasal-tone of the northern tribes, Lakota, maybe.

 Ilianna nodded. 

 "Have you eaten?"

 "No, that's what I was headed home for." 

 She flashed him a quick, self-conscious smile  and lowered her head shyly.  She knew where this was headed but didn't want to  discourage it, not too soon, anyway.  It had been a long time since she had had  someone flirt with her.  It was kind of nice—and, at this point,  safe.

 “Want to go get something?"

 Ilianna hesitated.  There was something easy to like about him.  She knew it was foolish  to even consider leaving with a stranger but there was an "okay" feel to the air  surrounding him.  It was like she had known him for a long time. 

 Yet, she found herself replying,  "No, better  not."

 "Why not?  You're hungry aren't you?  Know I  am."

 "No, just better not."

 He shoved his hands in his pockets, leaned  against the doorframe of the car, and scuffed his toe in the dirt.  He looked  out over the dry grass field like he was weighing his next question.  Then he  ducked his head back in her direction and asked, "Married?" 

 She shook her head, then reconsidered, "Not  really."

 "Not really?!"   His eyebrows shot up in a  questioning look then the grin returned as he ducked his head and shook it in a  disbelieving manner.  He kicked haphazardly at a dirt clod at his feet then  looked back up at her still smiling and said, "Don't want to get beat up by no  jealous husband or boyfriend.  Been there.  Said ‘hi’ to a girl once and the  next thing I knew, I was flat on my back in the dirt.  Big Osage guy, down at  Red Earth couple years back.  Those Osage are reeeeaaal touchy about who talks  to their women.  No, don't care to have a repeat of that one."  He paused,  grinned, and then shook his head remembering,  "Can't blame 'im.  She was real  good lookin'.   And, all I did was say ‘hi’."  He paused then added,  “You're  not waiting for your ol' man are you?"

 She hesitated then said, "No, no nothing like  that."

 She had lived with Marshall for so long that it  seemed like they were still married but that had been over long ago.  Still, it  was hard to shake feeling like a possession even after this long of a  time.

 "NO,” she said more emphatically, “I'm not  married." 

 She glanced down at the naked ring finger as if  to reassure herself.

 "Boyfriend?"

 She shook her head no.

 "Then come have something to eat with me.   Don't like to eat alone.  Don't know many people here.  What's it going to  hurt?"….He cocked his head questioningly towards her, his eyes pleading.   "I'm  Chebon—Chebon Charboneau…." 

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