Protected by Shelley Michaels Page B

officer
enters the shop and glances around suspiciously.  I imagine this must be
Frank, who was the first person I met in Krystal, on the night I arrived.
    ‘Good morning,’ I call, pleasantly. 
‘Are you looking for a haircut,’ I ask, cheekily.
    His lips twitch, ‘not today, Ma’am. 
I noticed the paperwork approving your license to trade here, thought I would
pass by and introduce myself.  Officer Frank White, Ma’am,’ he tips the
hat of his uniform.
    ‘Oh, how sweet of you,’ I smile, holding
out my hand.  ‘No more of this Ma’am business, Officer White,’ I tease,
‘Sophie Parker.’
    He grasps my hand and squeezes it
lightly, ‘pleased to meet you, Miss Parker.’
    ‘Sophie, please,’ I send him one of my
most dazzling smiles. 
    ‘Sophie,’ he nods.  ‘No customers?’
    ‘Not yet, I guess it’s early days,’ I
shrug.  ‘If you could pass on the word that I am open for business, I’d
appreciate it,’ I asked boldly.
    ‘Sure will, Ma’am,’ he nods, this time I
don’t correct him. I guess he feels more comfortable calling me Ma’am. 
‘Anything you need now, you call the sheriff’s office, you hear?’
    ‘Of course, and thank you, Officer
White,’ I call him, but he’s already walking out of the door.
    An hour later, a tornado, in the form of
a very pretty sapphire eyed woman, enters, ‘what the fuck, Sophie Parker,’
Ellie calls, standing before me with her hands planted firmly on her hips.
    ‘What?’ I puzzle. Shit!  Maybe she
didn’t know about Nate and me and has just found out.
    ‘You have to learn to communicate better,
since when are you opening your brother’s salon?’ She speaks in an accessory
tone.
    ‘What?’ I garble, shocked by the fury on
her expression.
    ‘You don’t think it’s polite to inform
your girls that you are opening your brother’s salon?’ She questions, ‘Does
Nate know?’
    ‘No, and no,’ I respond, blandly.
    ‘Honey, if people don’t know you are
opening, how are people gonna know you have opened?’ She expresses as if I am a
five-year-old child.
    ‘Word of mouth,’ I inform her, scowling
towards her.
    ‘Word of whose mouth?’ She splutters,
‘you don’t tell anyone, how can they spread it?’
    ‘It’ll get about, by tomorrow the whole
of Krystal will know,’ I scoff.
    She frowns, ‘right!’  Swivelling on
her heels, she exits as promptly as she entered, leaving me dumbfounded.
    An hour later, a group of six girls,
three of them I met at the Karaoke bar a couple of weeks ago, enter the salon
in a waft of perfume.
    ‘Hey doll,’ Beth announces, hugging me
swiftly into her bosom.  ‘Me and my girls need to make some hair
appointments, is that cool?’
    ‘Of course,’ I grab the diary, awaiting
their requirements.  I booked the girls for their various trims, styling
and colours and two of them asked whether I did manicures.  I decide on
the spot that I would go where the work takes me and mentally order a nail
table for the front of the shop, along with the products I require. 
‘Yeah, I can do that,’ I nod.
    ‘Great!  She does beauty, girls,’
she calls over to the others who are busy admiring the figure of Detective Johnson,
from the front window as he walks up the street toward the shop.
    ‘No way!’ One of them explodes.   I
then proceed to book in manicures and pedicures and hoped and prayed I could
get a swift order from Ollie’s supplier.
    Detective Johnson enters the shop and
takes in the gaggle of women. 
    ‘Ladies,’ he purrs, confidently and they almost
melt on the spot.  They all respond to his greeting with a girly, ‘ Hi ,’
as they touch their already immaculate hair.  Detective Johnson is clearly
considered a catch.
    He is a looker, without a doubt, all
blonde and surfer dude with his green eyes and luscious lips.  Not Nate,
dark and dangerous, a different genre of gorgeousness.  His eyes move
directly to Beth, and he provides her a sexy smile of her own.  She
flushes,