Father's Keeper by Parker Ford (classic fiction .TXT) 📗

turned me from the mirror and started to cut.

I sighed, fidgeting with the edge ofmy cape. “I heard you’re working for John again.”

“Yep.”

“You moving here?”

“Don’t think so,” I said.

“How’s Gil doing?” Her voice was softand her shears clickety clacked like chattering birds in my ear.

“He’s hanging in there. No one likesto be dumped right?” I tried to sound breezy and uninvolved but she knew me toowell.

“Stuff okay between you two?” Her faceheld the possibility of suspicion.

“Carl really likes him,” I saidquickly, to reintroduce Carl into the equation.

“That’s nice, but are things okay withyou two?”

“Of course. I could kick my mother’sass, but things are fine between me and Gil.”

“You watching out for him?” she asked,looking at my hair and not my face.

“As best as you can look out for agrown adult male set in his ways,” I snorted. “And why does everyone think I’mGil’s keeper or his handler or something?”

“Do they?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Does everyone think that?” Herbright blue eyes studied me then and I felt like she could look in my head andsee what had happened between me and Gil the night before. My cheeks blazed andI looked away.

“Well, it feels that way,” I said.

“Sorry, toots.” She handed me an eightinch section of my hair and I stroked it.

“Wow,” I said, rubbing my fingers inthe silky hair.

“yeah, wow. Gorgeous hair. It’llbrighten someone’s day for sure.”

“Good. Glad I could do some kind ofgood.”

“Oh, honey, you always do good. It’sjust sometimes you fuck up along the way. Join the club.”

“Thanks for having me,” I joked butwhen she turned me to the mirror and left me to mix my color, I said it again.“Wow.”

* * * *

John whistled through his teeth andGreg, the busboy, did a double take. “What’s happening hot stuff?” John asked.

“Not much.’ I tied on my tavern apronand wiped down the bar. Old tasks from old jobs come back fairly easily. Tooeasily for comfort sometimes.

“Loving the ‘do. What’s your boy toygonna think?”

John had found out that Carl was awhole year younger than me and would now proceed to tease me mercilessly--boytoy, cradle robber, MILF, cougar. The list of teasing would go on and on and onuntil I either died or broke up with Carl.

I shrugged and cracked a bottle ofwater from the cooler. “It’s my hair. Doesn’t much matter what he thinks.”

“Wow. Someone is grumpy tonight.” Hissmile faded and he leaned in. “You okay, kiddo? Something up?”

I blew out a sigh and watched a tinystrand of cobalt blue hair flutter by my cheekbone. I was still catching sightof my cropped locks in my peripheral vision. It would take some getting usedto. “My mother called earlier. I guess it freaked me out.”

And I masturbated in her bed whilesmelling her husband’s pillow like a teenager. That freaked me out too.

A burble of laughter escaped me at myown errant thought and John frowned. “You wanna start tomorrow instead?”

“Hell, no! I need to work. I need tomove and do something, earn some money and not be in my mother’s house all thetime,” I said.

Mr. Jenkins, the town boozer yelled“Jennifer, Jennifer! A beer, if you will.”

“How long’s he been here?” I askedJohn. I was shocked Mr. Jenkins wasn’t dead. He’d opened and closed the barwhen I was in high school. He should be pickled or buried at this point.

“How long we been open?” John said,drawing a beer. Mr. Jenkins didn’t drive. He’d lost his license long before I’dever even gotten mine.

I grunted, took the beer over anddelivered it. I took my tip and his pay and listened to him tell me a storyabout his wife that he’d told me every since I could remember. His wife Rosehad died during childbirth. Mr. Jenkins had one daughter with her, Michelle.Michelle Jenkins had left town like her ass was on fire the moment shegraduated high school. It couldn’t have been easy having the town drunk, andthe town joke, as a dad. But most of us still felt sorry for him.

“She threw all my clothes out on thelawn,” he laughed, winding down. “But we made up and she got pregnant withShelly…” and then his eyes teared up as usualand he took down half his draft in a swallow.

“I’ll get you some pretzels, Mr.Jenkins,” I said softly.

“Thank you, darlin’. You’re an angel.”

“Quite the opposite,” I said under mybreath and filled a bowl with pretzels. Then I gave John my dollar tip andtreated Mr. Jenkins to a beef stick. He needed something in his stomach. Helooked like an animated scarecrow.

“Don’t get too attached, we’ve alltried to help him, Jen.”

“I know,” I said, waving my handdismissively as I took the snack back. I just felt a sympathy for misfits.

I heard a familiar boisterous voiceand steeled myself. Before I could turn, I heard “You must be new here,gorgeous” and then a firm tap on the ass. When I turned Carl looked startled.

“Do you always spank the help?” Iasked.

“I knew it was you,” he lied. His facesaid he hadn’t but I listened to him talk. “I’d know that ass anywhere, Jenny,”he said, softly.

“Don’t call me Jenny and don’t lie tome, Carl.”

I glanced at John who shrugged. Hecouldn’t tell if Carl was lying and to be honest, neither could I. I thought hewas, but was I really sure? Bottom line, Carl wasn’t going to be with me tilldeath do us part. Was it really important in the long run?

“I wasn’t Jen. I swear.” He leaned inand kissed me, fingering the blue streak in my hair. “Sexy,” he said. “Reallysexy. What time do you get off, girl?”

“Whenever you get me off,” I laughedand let it go. “Now, I’m on the clock, Carl. What can I get you?”

I got him an import on draft and hestole a kiss in the hall, touching my breast and rubbing against me for amoment. I let him and laughed when he said in my ear. “I want to come all overthat blue streak in your hair.”

“I’m sure you do.”

About ten minutes before my shiftended, Gil walked in. Drunk and angry.

Chapter8

“What the fuck did you do to yourhair, Jenny?” He grabbed