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. Â 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 hadnât
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, âAt least, HE was doing something beyond just surviving each day. Iâve got to get out of this
rut, go somewhere, do something!â
 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.Â
 James hung up, turned, and frowned at her while he swept up his mug of steaming cappuccino from the counter in front of her.
  âYouâre late!â he announced as he took a tentative sip of the steaming froth.
 âNo Iâm not!â she countered. âIâm actually half and hour early for a change!â
 âExcuuuuseee me, honey, but you are late by almost an hour!â
 âJames, look at your clock, it is not yet 10:30! In fact, it is barely after TEN! Iâm early.â
 âYour appointment was at 9:00, sweetheartâyouâre late.â
 âMy appointment was at 10:30,â Ilianna whipped out her Day-timer, flipped to the page and pointed indignantly at the notation at the top of the page.
âSee?!â
 âWell, I guess you are early, kiddo, about a month early by that!â Jamesâ eyebrow arched triumphantly.
 âWhat?!â Ilianna pulled the book back out from under James disdainful look and search the page. âOh my gosh, this is next monthâs
appointment.â
 âBingo!â
 âJames, Iâm sooo sorry, I mean, I really â she started flipping back through the pages âthought it was 10:30â she continued to search
through the dates, âand itâs âŚatâŚuhâŚninnnnnnee..â The last trailed off to a murmur as she realized what she had done.
 âOkay, so thatâs it, no hug, no âHi, James, how are you doing?â Just in the door and into the chair! Allllrighhttyy
then,â James said doing his Jim Carey impersonation, âno 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 hadnât cancelled.â He set his cup down gently and turned back to her, âNo matter. Cap?â
 She shook her head no, bounced back up and embraced him, âThank you, James! But I really wasnât late, I was just a little too early,â she clicked her tongue at him and tried to play coy.
âYeah, right! So, you were an hour late for your last appointment and a month early for your next. Just donât push it, Illy,â then he
smiled back at her.
She gave him another quick hug then shoved him back to armâs 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 Motherâs 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!Â
âYou know that look wonât fly with me, chickie babe,â he said trying to maintain the stern look and voice that the smile had already
displaced. âOkay, letâs get started, or I will be overlapping appointments!â 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. âWhoops, coffee jitters,â he murmured.
âAnd, just how many have you had so far?â
âThree doublesâŚbutâŚwhoâs counting!â
âI am, after all itâs my hair thatâs at stakeâŚâ
âNo, problemoâ, 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.
âHmmmmmâŚ.â Ilianna eyeballed the maneuver, âmy point exactly.â
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
ânewâ 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 âfor the halibutâ. She hadnât 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 oneâs social standing by doing something so âmundaneâ as bowling. Tennis, golf, or
bridgeâthose were the choices he put to her. Maybe thatâs why she had enjoyed her bowling day with James so muchâit was just one more socially unacceptable breakthrough she
could flaunt in the face of the social âeliteâ she no longer cared aboutâŚMarshall included.Â
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 âand away we goâ throw; the toddler
two-handed roll; the break dance release, drop to the floor, and recover (swearing up and down he hadnât simply âslippedâ); and, as he named it ââŚthe ever popular Fred
Flintstone âYabadabadooâ pin busterâŚ.â--except it was the pins in the other lane that were bustedâŚwell, 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 âraccoon eyesâ; and he still wouldnât give her a break. He just continued
making her laugh even harder until she thought she was going to wet herself.
âToo bad he is gay. It seems like all the really great guys were gay. It just doesnât seem fair,â she thought.Â
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 âstraightâ (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, âOkay, are we done feeling sorry for ourselves?â or âAlright already,
enough about you now letâs talk about meâ. Occasionally it would be, âReality check time, Illyâ 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 himâhe 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, âYou know, Iâve missed you! We used to at least do lunch once and awhile.â
âAh, the trials and tribulations of an upwardly mobile working girl,â he sighed rolling his eyes mocking her.Â
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.
âYouâre just lucky Miss Pearl Elizabeth cancelled,â he said glancing at her reflection in the mirror, âPearl Elizabeth GatesâŚPearl E. GatesâŚher
parents should have been shot!â James mused, âNo wonder sheâs 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.â
âJAMES! Thatâs not nice. Sheâs a sweet old lady and you know it!â
Despite her reprimand she couldnât help but giggle at the name and, yeah, James was right, her parents should have been shot!
âSo, tell me whatâs going on?!â he said changing the subject. He glanced at her in the mirror cocking one eyebrow like a question mark.
âNunca, Nada, Nothing!â
âSounds pretty boring to me!â
âIt is,â she sighed.
âSooooo, why not do something about it?â
âYeah, right! And what do you suggest?â 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. âWell, for starters, this hair is pretty boring.Â
Letâs do something to give it some life. Maybe thatâll give you a new attitude!â
âPeople are already accusing me of having too much attitude--you included. And, Iâm not letting you dye it green!â
He dropped the offending strand of hair back into place, leaned over her shoulder addressing her in the mirror, and said, âSweetheart, green is out!Â
Havenât you heard?!â He stood back, cocked his head from side to side while he appraisingly fluffed her hair with his fingertips. âAll I want to do it is brighten up
the color a little. Give it some spark, some vitality. Some âjoie de vivreâ.â
âWhy not,â Ilianna sighed and shrugged.
âCould use a trim, too. What have you been brushing it with? A curry comb?â
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
âlaugh-linesâ 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 couldnât 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 âlaugh linesâ were doing when Jamesâ voice brought her out of her reverie.
âSo, what soiree are you off to tonight?â 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.
âSoiree? Whereâd you get that idea?â Ilianna snorted, âIâm going to the powwow.â
âYouâre kidding! Drums and Indians--excuse me âNative Americans,' we must be politically correct,â he interjected then continued, âand all
that?â
âAnd all that,â she chuckled a low, throaty chuckleâŚ..
Â
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 passengerâs 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 Dykeâ 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...â Iliannaâs tone reflected how incredulous the
situation was to her.
 "Dunno,â he shrugged noncommittally, still smiling. âOh, there it is." He pointed to a small, red Taurus parked one row
behind Iliannaâs 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 âcan-you-imagine-thatâ pose. Then he placed them on his hips as he continued to look at her through the window not moving.
 "Headed home?â The accent was the clipped, nasal-tone of the northern tribes, Lakota, maybe.
 Ilianna nodded.Â
 "Have you eaten?"
 "No, that's what I was headed home for."Â
 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 niceâand, at this point, safe.
 âWant 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.Â
 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?"Â
 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 âhiâ 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 âhiâ." He paused then added, âYou'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,â she said more emphatically, âI'm not married."Â
 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?"âŚ.He cocked his head questioningly towards her, his eyes pleading.  "I'm ChebonâChebon CharboneauâŚ."Â
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