I nodded in agreement as I stared out at the horizon where perfectly sheared grass met the quilted, dove gray sky. That truth had been needling my conscious since the scene at the hospital.
“I don’t think she sets out to harm him. She’s just selfish, and self-absorbed. She’s never been there for him––not once that I can recall.” The more Marianne spoke the more powerless I felt in the face of this seemingly insurmountable task. I was losing hope.
“How do I get him back?” I asked, shear desperation in my voice.
Marianne glanced up from the basket she was arranging. “Do what no other woman has ever done for him, chérie. Be there for him––no matter how hard he tries to push you away, no matter what.”
“I need a haircut,” I announced as I entered the kitchen some time later. What is it they say about idle hands being the devil’s plaything? Well, the more free time I had, the more I fretted about Sebastian. I needed to keep busy. One way, or another.
Bear and Justin stared back at me with matching blank expressions, the guns they were busy cleaning all but forgotten in their hands. Justin’s hand crept up and rubbed his scruff covered chin, all that chiseled handsomeness looking very thoughtful.
“I’ve never done it before, but I’m willing to try,” he earnestly offered––to my everlasting amusement. I couldn’t keep the corners of my mouth from lifting.
“I meant I need a ride into town so I can look for a hairdresser.”
Bear nodded his big, bald head and breathed out a sigh of relief. “Sure thing. I’ll get the car.”
The silence in the car wasn’t exactly comfortable. Every time we set foot off the property the risk increased. It had everyone’s nerves balancing on the edge of a razorblade. But what was the alternative––become a shut it? Two, black SUVs shadowed us. No doubt the people who dwelled in the tiny village would find it interesting.
Bear had made some phone calls and found a tiny shop that agreed to do the deed. My head was a misshapen mess. No amount of hair product could mold it into something presentable. Therefore the choice was either a pixie cut or––a pixie cut. The hairdresser was a snobby Parisian that feigned speaking no English rather poorly. Frankly, I didn’t care. It wasn’t his language skills or his manners I was interested in, and I was pleased to find his haircutting skill were impeccable. With the little he had to work with, he worked wonders.
While I was thanking him profusely in French, the door chimed and Isabelle enter the shop. Her eyes, chastened and submissive, immediately met mine in the mirror. Her attention shifted to Bear, who quietly murmured something in her ear. Then Bear walked over to where I sat.
“She wants to apologize,” Bear said in a low voice, his expression uncomfortable. My gaze slid to Isabelle once again. She wore an anxious look on her face and clutched her purse with both hands, strangling it to death.
“Okay,” I replied because after everything that had transpired, I couldn’t muster up the energy to stay mad anymore. Right after Bear gave her the nod, she approached slowly while he took a step back and hovered. Her grey eyes darted around, looking for courage. Her lips suffered from repeated bites before she opened them to speak. “I know nothing I say can undo what’s been done,” she mumbled quietly and slowly. A paused followed––no doubt waiting for me to assuage her guilt. However, I wasn’t about to make it that easy for her. “You must really hate me,” she continued, shifting from foot to foot. Again I remained silent. “I just want to say that I am very sorry. I never meant for things to get out of hand like they did…and…well, Mrs. Redman, Paisley not Diana, she scared me.”
That peaked my interest. “How?”
“At first, she was all friendly like. And then, when I had nothing else to tell her, she started threatening me, telling me she would have me arrested for stealing.” Isabelle’s voice gained volume. “I never stole anything in my life!”
“Isabelle slow down––”
“She a fucking putain!”
“Okay––easy,” I said, putting the breaks on where that train was headed.
“She got what she deserved,” she said, finishing in a huff. Then she crossed her arms under her ample breasts.
Got what she deserved? Glancing sideways at Bear, I found him suddenly inspecting his shoes in total fascination.
“What do you mean by got what she deserved?”
The handwringing started all over again. Isabelle’s gray eyes went wide, darting back to Bear, who gave his consent with a slight nod. It seemed I was the only one out of the loop.
“She was arrested.”
“For what?” I unintentionally shouted, shock getting the better of me.
This time it was Bear that answered in that deep, deep voice of his, “Possession of a controlled substance and driving under the influence.” There was more to this story––call it intuition. The implied question was in my eyes. After a roll of his, he added, “Substantial quantities of cocaine and ecstasy were found in her car while she was on her way home from a party.”