“I’m not sure the community can take much more of their servicing,” Lois said. She looked at Jandy, who was still laughing at the image of the fire extinguisher discharging in someone’s pants, and said, “You must think you’re in Crazy Town.”
“I think it’s better than television,” Jandy said.
Phylura nodded philosophically, then said, “Hey, if you’re thirsty—”
“Don’t you dare offer her any of that liquid poison you call tea,” Evan said as he settled one of the hair dryer women into a chair at the next station. He had the brightest eyes, and Jandy felt special every time he turned them on her. “I’ve got a spa pedicure chair in the next room. It gently massages your back while your feet soak in a hot bath of rosemary and peppermint. You can get a little pampering while you wait. And a bottle of icy cold water. My treat.”
“That all sounds wonderful,” Jandy said.
She followed him and took off her shoes while he got everything ready. Then he turned and said, “Did I ever introduce myself? I’m Evan Hammett.”
“Jandy Taylor,” she said, deciding she might as well stick with that name. After all, Jandy Taylor was on an adventure, until the person that Lois might dub plain Jane Halli went back to L.A.
After a few minutes of blissful relaxation, she thought about Sam waiting for her at the garage. She decided there was no hurry. He still had to get Grandpa’s pickup unloaded. And his sister would need time to determine what was wrong with the engine.
She was almost asleep when Evan came back and softly said, “How’re you doing?”
“I’m in heaven.”
“You’re easy.”
“I’ll bet you say that to all the girls,” she said drowsily.
Evan gently removed her feet from the bath and dried them off. Then he rubbed some lotion into them and said, “Our manicurist isn’t here, or you could get a pedicure on the house.”
“You shouldn’t be so nice,” she warned. “When you see how vile my hair is, you might regret it.”
“Let’s go to the shampoo chair so I can assess the damage.”
Once she put on a smock and settled onto the chair, Evan pulled off her bandanna and said, “Nice braid job. Do it yourself?”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Noooo,” he drawled, sounding totally insincere, which made her smile.
“I’ve been on the road for a few days and haven’t had time to wash it.”
“I’ve seen armadillos who were on the road for a few days and looked livelier than this,” he teased. He made swift work of unbraiding her hair, then stood back and said, “Jeez. Who would have ever guessed all this was under your bandanna?”
“When it’s clean,” Jandy assured him, “it’s my best feature.”
“I believe you. Mercy. When it’s not wavy from braiding, it’s past your waist, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve seen this much red hair since my last drag show in Houston. Are you one of the Daughter of Godiva contestants? You won’t need a wig.”
She shook her head and said, “No. I’m just passing through and didn’t know about your festival until right before I got here.”
“Evan! Phone!” Phylura yelled. “It’s Grayson.”
“My better half,” Evan said with a happy smile. “I need to talk to him. I’ll be just a second.”
At least Evan left no doubt that he was gay. Sam could take a lesson in full disclosure from him.
She leaned back and let her hair fall into the deep sink behind her. Only then did she become aware that there was a TV suspended from the ceiling. It was tuned to Inside Hollywood, the most over-the-top of the celebrity gossip shows. Maybe because she actually knew a few semi-famous people, she couldn’t stand the sensational approach of those programs.
She sat up and looked for a remote, found it on a cart, and stared at it with exasperation. All the print was worn off the buttons. She pointed the remote toward the TV, but instead of changing the channel, she only managed to unmute it. By the time Evan returned, she’d given up trying to figure it out and was leaning back again.
He saturated her hair with warm water. She wrinkled her nose with pleasure at the shampoo’s scent.
“Chamomile and tea tree,” Evan said when she asked about it. “Your hair’s so heavy. Does it give you headaches?”
“Sometimes. It feels really good when you massage my scalp. You’re amazing.”
“I’ll bet you say that to all the guys,” he imitated her. “I used to have a client in Houston with hair like yours. She was an exotic dancer who came for massages and haircuts at the salon where I worked. She’d never let the shampoo people touch her hair. She said I was the only one who understood the effect of its weight on her scalp and neck.”
He held up her head with one hand, closing his other hand into a fist that he pressed into the muscles of her neck. She felt like she was floating, and it took a few seconds for the chirpy voice of the TV correspondent to penetrate her consciousness.
“…at April’s Daytime Emmys with fiancé Hudson Blake…”
Jandy pushed Evan’s hands away and said, “Can you turn off the water please, so I can hear this story?”
Within seconds, she forgot Evan and everything else as she stared at the TV with dismay. She’d seen the same footage of Hud walking with her down the red carpet many times. Hud hadn’t been nominated for an Emmy award, but Sweet Seasons had gotten several nominations. It was the first time the awards ceremony had been in L.A. instead of New York, and since Hud was a major part of one of Sweet Seasons’ most talked-about storylines, he’d been chosen to attend along with the show’s elite group of Daytime Emmy nominees.
She’d been a nervous wreck about the Emmys until Hud’s publicist, Chandra, told her about a resale shop on Melrose where she could find a designer dress for almost nothing. Because of her red hair, the salesperson had instead directed her toward a reproduction of a Rita Hayworth gown from the 1940s. The dress’s emerald beading had made her green eyes brilliant, and she’d left her curly hair down. She’d been confident that she was a presentable date for Hud until she saw his eyes. Then she knew she was a knockout. She felt like she was a star when she walked into the Kodak Theatre with him. It had been a wonderful night, and it was hard for her to reconcile her memory of it with the story the correspondent was telling.
“January Halli, sole heiress to the Halli real estate fortune, was last seen in a supermarket near her Silver Lake apartment. The police say there’s no evidence of foul play. Sources close to the couple refuse to confirm or deny that Miss Halli is the latest in an epidemic of runaway brides.”
“What?” Jandy squeaked at the television.
The footage switched from the correspondent to a video clip of Hud’s friend Sorel Eisen walking away from the camera with her hand out.
“No comment,” Sorel said. When the reporters began shouting questions at her, she dodged and went the other way, calling back, “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding that Jane will clear up. Can you imagine anyone running away from Hudson Blake? That’s nuts.”
“I don’t believe this,” Jandy muttered as the next clip showed her mother and stepfather standing outside their office, the sign for HALLI REAL ESTATE DEVELOPMENT prominently featured next to them. Her mother was wearing sunglasses and a grim expression.
“I don’t think the police are taking January’s disappearance seriously enough,” Carol Halli said. “Someone must know something. If you don’t want to contact the authorities, call us at Halli Real Estate. We’re offering