Club Dead by Charlaine Harris Page B

they go to,” Janice said.
    Okay, this time what I didn’t know was something pretty major. “She’s marrying the—man she took up with after she dumped Alcide?” (I barely stopped myself from saying, “The shape-shifter?”)
    “Quick work, huh? What could he have that my brother doesn’t have?”
    “I can’t imagine,” I said with absolutely sincerity, earning a quick smile from Janice. There was sure to be a flaw in her brother somewhere—maybe Alcide came to the supper table in his underwear, or picked his nose in public.
    “Well, if you find out, you let me know. Now, let’s get you going.” Janice glanced around her in a businesslike way. “Corinne is going to give you your pedicure and manicure, and Jarvis is going to do your hair. You sure have a great head of it,” Janice said in a more personal way.
    “All mine, all natural,” I admitted.
    “No color?”
    “Nope.”
    “You’re the lucky one,” Janice said, shaking her head.
    That was a minority opinion.
    Janice herself was working on a client whose silver hair and gold jewelry proclaimed she was a woman of privilege, and while this cold-faced lady examined me with indifferent eyes, Janice fired off some instructions to her employees and went back to Ms. Big Bucks.
    I had never been so pampered in my life. And everything was new to me. Corinne (manicures and pedicures), who was as plump and juicy as one of the sausages I’d cooked that morning, painted my toenails and fingernails screaming red to match the dress I was going to wear. The only male in the shop, Jarvis, had fingers as light and quick as butterflies. He was thin as a reed and artificially platinum blond. Entertaining me with a stream of chatter, he washed and set my hair and established me under the dryer. I was one chair down from the rich lady, but I got just as much attention. I had a People magazine to read, and Corinne brought me a Coke. It was so nice to have people urging me to relax.
    I was feeling kind of roasted under the dryer when the timer binged. Jarvis got me out from under it and set me back in his chair. After consulting with Janice, he whipped his preheated curling iron from a sort of holster mounted on the wall, and painstakingly arranged my hair in loose curls trailing down my back. I looked spectacular. Looking spectacular makes you happy. This was the best I’d felt since Bill had left.
    Janice came over to talk every moment she was able. I caught myself forgetting that I wasn’t Alcide’s real girlfriend, with a real chance of becoming Janice’s sister-in-law. This kind of acceptance didn’t come my way too often.
    I was wishing I could repay her kindness in some way, when a chance presented itself. Jarvis’s station mirrored Janice’s, so my back was to Janice’s customer’s back. Left on my own while Jarvis went to get a bottle of the conditioner he thought I should try, I watched (in the mirror) Janice take off her earrings and put them in a little china dish. I might never have observed what happened next if I hadn’t picked up a clear covetous thought from the rich lady’s head, which was, simply, “Aha!” Janice walked away to get another towel, and in the clear reflection, I watched the silver-haired customer deftly sweep up the earrings and stuff them into her jacket pocket, while Janice’s back was turned.
    By the time I was finished, I’d figured out what to do. I was just waiting to say good-bye to Jarvis, who’d had to go to the telephone; I knew he was talking to his mother, from the pictures I got from his head. So I slid out of my vinyl chair and walked over to the rich woman, who was writing a check for Janice.
    “ ’Scuse me,” I said, smiling brilliantly. Janice looked a little startled, and the elegant woman looked snooty. This was a client who spent a lot of money here, and Janice wouldn’t want to lose her. “You got a smear of hair gel on your jacket. If you’ll please just slide out of it for a second, I’ll get