Leslie's Curl & Dye Page 12

  "It's nice that you have realized that there are real people that live here."

  "I always knew that real people live here. I'm real and I live here. Kendrick is real, Monica is real, TC is real. I see customers that come in and out of my shop everyday that are real. Folks I run into at the grocery store and the hardware store and when I’m just hanging out at the recreation center trying to get in a game of basketball. They're all real." I paused, catching Leslie's eye. "You're real."

  "I am. I live here and have a livelihood."

  "And I'm not trying to take that away from you, for the millionth time. If what I have to do to secure my future and yours and everyone else's is to step up to the plate and make sure that Mayor Adams doesn't have a controlling hand anymore, I'm going to have to get up the nerve to do that. But I don't think I can do that without your help."

  "Me?” She reared back in faux shock. “You're the one that's going to be running for office."

  "You are my connection to the town of Potter Lake. The heart of this place. Everybody knows you, everybody loves you. If you support me, I feel like people will listen to you and follow your lead. We could join forces, go at this together. Me from my side, you from yours."

  But Leslie's head was already shaking. "KC, I'm not sure that I have it in me to bang the drum for you. I'm supposed to tell people to take a chance on you? To remove their support from a man they have known for so many years and put the future of the Potter Lake in the hands of someone who has zero political experience and no history with this town?"

  "I have history with this town."

  "You have history with Healy. If there's one thing you need to learn about Potter Lake, it's that we don't want to become Healy."

  "But see, that's why I need you on my team. I need someone that knows this place, that has some kind of influence. Somebody that can speak to my intentions. You know in your heart, Leslie, that I'm not trying to kill any part of this town. Mayor Adams is like a wild dog off leash. Things will get worse if we don't at least try to remove him from office."

  "Unfortunately, you're right. I think tonight's meeting opened a lot of eyes. Especially since the Mayor basically said I did it, and y'all ain't gonna do nothing about it."

  I grabbed my glass, which was so cold and that it had sweated a puddle of condensation around it. I used the napkin to sop up the puddle. "I really can't stand to sit back and do nothing about it. If there someone more qualified that wants to run against him, I'll throw all my support behind them. But if there's nobody else, I'm going to do it."

  Leslie wore her heart on her sleeve, always had. I could always tell what she was thinking by just looking at her. I watched her expression turn from peaceful to nervous, anxious twitching. She sucked in her bottom lip and her eyes became shifty, focusing on everything but me. I reached across the table and looped my finger around one of hers, wanting to touch her but not freak her out.

  "I'll give you some time to think about it. All the time in the world if you need it. But if I do this, I could really use your help. I'm not demanding an answer right now—”

  "I'll do it." Leslie began nodding. And kept nodding as if she was trying to convince herself that this was the right thing to do. "I'll do it. I'll help."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Leslie

  * * *

  People are going to think I'm crazy.

  That exact thought rolled through my head on an endless loop as I sat in the passenger seat of KC's truck. I just kept thinking, over and over. People are going to think I'm crazy. And by people, I meant… everyone I knew.

  I hadn't been paying attention to where we were going. I assumed KC was taking me home, but he pulled into the driveway of a beautiful two-story brick duplex. The garage door slowly yawned open and an overhead light popped on. The place was neat and organized, I noticed, as he pulled inside.

  "Where are we?" I gripped the handles of my small purse and shoved my hand inside for my cell phone.

  KC opened his door, causing the dome light in the truck to glow. He glanced over at me, then rolled his eyes. "What, you think I brought you somewhere to hurt you?"

  "Never know. You NBA types sometimes get to acting entitled."

  "Oh, now I'm an NBA type?"

  "Aren't you, former Point Guard for the Baltimore Herons?"

  He huffed out a laugh. "This is my place, Leslie. I wanted to show you where I live, since you have ideas about what I own, what I'm into. TC lives right next door. I can call her and have her come over if you're uncomfortable."

  I shook my head, feeling dumb. Sort of. I knew KC and I knew he'd never hurt me. But it also never hurt to be cautious.

  "So you coming in or what?"

  "I guess," I grumbled, popping open the door latch on my side and hopping down from the truck. I walked around to the interior entrance and waited for KC to open the door and turn off the alarm.

  We stepped into a modern, spacious kitchen. Not understated in the least, but not gaudy either. Granite countertops, dark wood, stainless steel appliances, a large 12 person table with stately white fabric covered chairs. I followed slate grey hardwood floors past the kitchen and dining room toward the front door, which split the house right and left.

  To the right, a formal living room with expensive looking furniture and an enormous saltwater fish tank that gave the room an ethereal blue-green glow. Floor-to-ceiling windows were covered by shades and curtain sheers. KC swiped his thumb across a screen built into the wall and it lit up. He pressed a button and the shades started to roll up, showing off a great view of the growing but still sparse subdivision.

  "It's called Smart House technology. I invested in it after they showed me what it can do. The whole place can be controlled by these panels. Got 'em all around the house. That's my favorite part. My dad's too."

  "Oh, I bet. Y’all probably stood around grunting and pressing buttons, as men do."

  KC laughed. "Should have seen him when it was being installed. I know he's bid it out on a couple of jobs since then and they're putting it in the new house they're building. Mom needs something on one floor, with wide hallways and doorways, because of her wheelchair. He's having the panels installed, but at wheelchair height and also voice responsive, so she can control things herself and she doesn't have to lift a finger if she doesn't want to. Or can't."

  He was so... casual and matter of fact, talking about his mother and her illness. His words were stabbing me right in the heart.

  "So... your mom is..."

  "Declining," he answered plainly. "Not, you know, dying or anything. It's just... she's been living with MS for a long time so we've been expecting it, you know? We're trying to make things as easy for her as we can."

  I never met KC's parents. They came to Healy once, but I was off campus and they had left by the time I made it back. I had heard a lot about them, though. Enough to love Gladys and Kelvin Cavanaugh, sight unseen.

  "This is the room I hang out in the most," KC said, forcing a little lift and light to his voice. I followed him to the right, into a much more lived in space. A plush grey couch with multi colored throw pillows and matching ottomans took up more than half the room, across from the biggest flat-screen TV I'd ever seen in my life. The thing looked like he'd stolen it from a theater.

  "Well, that is not a tiny ass TV," I joked.

  "It sure isn't."

  On the walls were framed, blown up images of KC mid-play on all of his teams. I recognized the Lakewood Wildcats and Baltimore Herons uniforms. Not that I'd been paying attention.

  "You want something to drink?" KC headed to a corner of the room, where there was a cooler stuffed with beverages. "TC keeps me stocked over here. I got Vitamin Water, Smart water, soda… you like iced coffee?"

  "What kind?"

  He shrugged. "That Starbucks stuff in the glass bottle. TC keeps it here for her and Monica when they come watch movies."

  "Uh... can I just… pick something?" He stepped aside, letting me peer into the co
oler and grab a Starbucks caramel latte. "She won't be mad if I take this?"

  "Nah. She'll take money from me and buy more."

  I popped open the bottle and took a long, cool swallow. "Ahhh... that's good."

  KC had been staring, I realized as I lowered the bottle. I blushed a little when he said, "Yeah. Looked it. So anyway... come have a seat."

  I trailed him to the couch and sat down, sinking into the softness of the furniture. It was springy but firm, comfortable and enveloping but I didn't feel like I was about to be swallowed up in it.

  "Wow, KC. This couch. Wow."

  He grinned, sitting next to me, toeing off his sneakers and bringing his feet up to the ottoman. He stretched one arm behind me and lifted a bottle of Vitamin Water to his mouth with the other.

  I drank my iced coffee, looking around the room that was like a shrine to his old life. "You probably get asked this a hundred times a day, but do you miss the court?"

  He started to nod, then grimaced. “That right there makes a hundred times today that I’ve been asked that. Nah, I mostly miss being on a team, traveling, playing for TV cameras, whatever. I was kind of a ham."

  "Yes, you were," fell out of my mouth before I could stop myself from saying it. But he was. KC knew where the cameras were at all times and managed to get his face in one at every open opportunity. The headline wasn't usually by how much whatever team he was on won or lost; it was about whatever gesture or expression KC showed the crowd that night.

  "See, I knew you followed my career. You're not as cold and uncaring as you want to seem."

  "It's not like I could help it. Those first two years, everyone at Healy went crazy. You're all anyone talked about."

  "But you didn't have to keep watching."

  "I sort of did. My ex was a fan, since you both went to Healy and all. You were on all his Fantasy teams."

  "Oh yeah?" He nodded, halfway smiling. "That's wassup. Did he know that you knew me?"

  "Yeah. Thats why he wanted to date me at first. He was always trying to see if he could get tickets to a game if your team was playing in Chicago. I told him I didn't know you like that. I couldn't just ask you for tickets."

  "You could have just asked me for tickets. You did know me like that."

  "I know," I said, lifting the bottle to my lips, trying to hide a smile. "He didn't have to know that."

  "So what happened with him? Y'all broke up and you moved back here. Just showed up is what I heard."

  "Is that what you heard?" I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Try having a private life in this town. That's one thing you'll have to remember if you're planning on running for office. These people already know everything about you, from what percent of milk you drink to what size jockeys you wear."

  "Jockeys?"

  "Hanes. Fruit of the Loom. Whatever kinda undies you got on, they already know what color they are."

  "Do they know what color undies you have on?"

  I choked on my coffee, trying not to laugh. "I mean...they might."

  "Well then, I'm jealous. ‘Cause then everybody knows but me."

  I didn't know what to say to that. So I didn't say anything. I drank my coffee and stared straight ahead at the flashes of light moving across the muted TV.

  "So you're not going to tell me what happened to old dude?"

  "Why do you want to know, KC?"

  "Call it morbid curiosity. I want to know what he did wrong. I want to know how two men let your fine ass get away from them."

  I snorted. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Kade Cavanaugh."

  "Everywhere?" he asked, eyebrows high on his forehead. "Like... everywhere?"

  "Except there. Stop flirting, Mr. NBA. You must miss the groupies."

  "Aw, here we go. Why does every woman bring up the groupies? Y'all jealous or something? At least they're bold, they step up, they shoot their shot."

  My eyes rolled as I snickered. "Been there, tapped that. Remember?"

  "How could I forget? You've brought it up twice."

  "Whatever," I said, but mentally chastised myself. I did bring it up both times. Maybe I wanted to see if he remembered. Why, though?

  I needed to change the subject. In a hurry. “So the KC I know always has candy. You brand new now, or what?"

  KC grinned. "Look at you, thinking you still know me. Check it out, though. That ottoman right there in front of you? The top flips open."

  I flipped up the lid to the ottoman and almost cried at the sight. The hollowed-out space was full of candy— and not that new, modern stuff. The candy we used to eat back in the day when we'd hang out… Red Vines, Mike & Ikes, Jujubes, and the like.

  "TC must stock this up too."

  "She knows I like to lay here and watch movies and eat candy."

  Wistful and lost in nostalgia, I grabbed a package of Red Vines and ripped them open, then pulled out a long twist and bit off the end.

  "I know," I said, my teeth blissfully stuck together. "Me too."

  KC turned on a movie but we were ignoring it. I had made myself comfortable on the couch, kicked off my sandals, tucked my feet up under me and angled toward him. KC had one leg tucked under him and one leg stretched out on the ottoman.

  "Does your knee hurt?"

  "A little," he answered, rubbing it with his palm. "Might be about to rain."

  "Oh, you're one of those people, now."

  "Maybe my knee could get me a job at the local news station."

  "Maybe you should run for weatherman. Clyde ain't been right about the weather in twenty years."

  "So you're really not going to tell me about what's his name, huh? You're just going to keep changing the subject, thinking I forgot about it?"

  I bit off another Red Vine and chewed. “I was kind of hoping you would."

  "Nope. What was his name?"

  "Dexter."

  "Dexter," he repeated, adding a certain... air to the name. "Dexter sounds like a guy that wears suspenders and glasses and high-water pants.”

  "So... Steve Urkel?"

  "Yeah. In my mind he looks exactly like that. So was he?"

  "No," I answered, laughing hard. "I'm not the kind of girl that would go for that. He was actually very cool, for a Finance and Business major."

  "Wait, hold up. I was a business major.”

  "I know. And I know you saw the upperclassmen in those majors. They all look like Urkel."

  "I wouldn't have looked like Urkel. I would have been... Urquelle," he finished, referencing the nerdy Steve Urkel's suave and debonair alter ego. I knew he was going to say that, so I was already laughing. "So anyway. Urkel. Dexter. What did he do? I don't mean for a living. I mean how did he get sent to the pokey?"

  "Dexter..." I began. "Let's say he didn't start out that way but it turned out that he was... shady."

  "Okay, let's say that. But then let’s say more."

  "I didn't know the depth of his involvement. I tried not to know a lot. There was some kind of fraud scheme with their investment firm. He definitely turned a blind eye to it, profited from it."

  Everyone had finally stopped asking about what happened in Chicago, what happened to my job and my boyfriend and my relationship. Tamera knew, because she flew up to Chicago to pack me up and drive me back. The last thing I wanted was my past flying around Potter Lake.

  "Dexter's partner was running a fraud scam, taking money from certain investors and not investing it, but using it to pay off someone else. Or pocketing it. Or spending it. And then creating dummy records for money that wasn't even invested. How he thought he could get away with it, I don't know. Too smart for his own good."

  "Well, he didn't get away with it, did he?"

  "Well, he’s in prison, so no. Dexter took bonuses, knowing the firm wasn't performing at a rate that would merit that kind of payout above his salary. Then the SEC showed up, asking questions. They told Dex he was culpable, and that he could go to prison for longer if he didn't cooperate and testify against his partner. I was terri
fied, and I confided in Tamera. She got on the next flight, rolled into our apartment, started packing stuff into suitcases and boxes. She was like... what's that character that's like a tornado?"

  "Taz? Tasmanian Devil?”

  "Yeah. That. She came in on a Thursday. By Sunday, we had shipped most of my stuff back to Potter Lake and she and I were in the car headed back here. She thought I could be implicated and it was better that I left before things even really got started. Some of the stuff Dexter bought me, I had to leave in the apartment. I didn't want to take anything that they could hunt me down and ask questions about."

  "Wow. Have you ever heard from anyone?"

  My mind rolled back to the day I opened the front door to find a man in a dark suit, wing tips and mirror shades standing on the front porch. My first thought, I remember, was am I gonna have to do hair in prison? But it was just Dex’s slick ass attorney trying to sweet talk me into coming back to Chicago.

  "His attorney wanted me to come up and speak on his behalf at the sentencing. I declined. Never heard from them again."

  "So he’s gone. How long is he gone for?”

  "Mmmhmmm," I hummed, nodding while I finished off the strand of licorice. “Six years."

  "Damn, girl. Getting involved with criminals. Running from the law. You're different, Leslie. You're wild."

  "I'm not wild! And I'm not different. I'm the same Leslie you knew back at Healy."

  "Nah..." He shook his head, a more serious expression clouding his face. "You're different. But good different. Older. More mature. More...grown and sexy…”

  I watched his eyes roam my body, even curled up as it was on the couch.

  "KC...stop it."

  "What I do?"

  “Just… don't go there."

  "Why not? Huh? Why not, Les?"

  It wasn't that I was uncomfortable. It was that.... I was... uncomfortable. The look in his eyes made me believe he wanted me. I got in trouble with that line of thinking before and I wasn't going down that road again.

  "I should be heading home," I said, uncurling myself from the confines of a really comfortable couch and using a toe to pull my sandals closer to me. "You have a staff to open your shop, but I don't, so..."