"The girls are ready to go," Tucker said as Zac slammed the door of the truck bed shut. "Later, Cassidi."
Now that Sadie and Pearl were covered by a tarp, I turned to the sizable crowd. "Peep show's over, folks."
The townspeople began to disperse, and Tucker climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. Zac saluted and got into the truck.
"Wait," I said, approaching the passenger door. "How much do I owe you for helping Tucker move the, uh, things?"
He leaned out the window. "Nothing. I used to work for Tucker in high school, so I was happy to help." He paused. "Especially since it meant coming to your place."
Flustered by his comment, I pulled some cash from the pocket of my jeans. "I insist."
"Okay." He gave an opportunist smile. "Then how about dinner?"
I felt my face flush. "I…I'd rather pay you for your time." I shoved three twenties into his hand. "That should cover it."
He looked from the money to me. "For now."
I nodded and then did a double take when I processed what he'd said. But before I could respond, Tucker flashed the peace sign out the driver's window and sped away.
"Can you believe that Zac guy?" I asked as I stared after the truck.
Amy punched me in the arm—again. "He was hitting on you."
"You're hitting on me," I corrected. "What's up with you today?"
"Someone has to knock some sense into you." She put her hand on her hip. "Zac Taylor is one of the most sought-after guys in town. You owe it to those of us who'll never get a date with him to go for it."
I crossed my arms. "I told you. I'm not interested in dating right now."
She looked me straight in the eyes. "It's because of whatever happened between you and that guy back in Fredericksburg, isn't it?"
"That has nothing to do with it," I fibbed, wishing I'd never alluded to the unfortunate incident. "You know that between the hair salon and my class, I've got more on my plate than I can handle."
"That reminds me," Amy said as she reached into her messenger bag. "Here's that textbook you wanted."
"Thanks." I took the accounting tome, and the sheer weight of it served as a reminder of the burden of school. "If I don't make a C or better on that quiz in the morning, I'll have to drop the course."
"You can do it." Amy straddled her bike in her blue pencil skirt. "Are we still on for girls' night tomorrow?"
"Absolutely." I frowned at the textbook. "Pass or fail, I'm going to need to get my drink on. This has been a hard week, and the statue striptease just now didn't help."
She wrinkled her forehead. "Is everything okay?"
I shrugged. "Business has been especially bad. I can count the number of clients that Lucy, Gia, and I've had on two hands."
"Well, you've only been in town for a few months. The customers will come."
"Yeah." I stared at the pink-and-orange plaid pattern on my shirt. "I'm sure they will."
Amy looked at her watch. "My lunch hour's almost up. I'd better get back to the library."
"'K. See you tomorrow night." I watched Amy ride away and wondered whether the customers really would come. In the four months that I'd been in Danger Cove, I'd gotten a real education, and it had nothing to do with my degree. The people of the town were nice but wary of me and my salon. And now that I knew why, I couldn't say that I blamed them. As much as I'd wanted to escape small-town Texas, I might have stayed put if I'd known the truth about Uncle Vinnie and this building.
I stared at the bank balance on my laptop screen. That couldn't be right, could it? The clock was showing the correct time, 2:30 p.m., so my computer was working properly. I blinked in case something was clouding my vision. Nope, still the same number. I tried closing my weak eye, but it was no use. Any way I looked at it, I had three months of money before my inheritance from Uncle Vinnie ran out. I sighed and rested my head on the back of the wooden chair.
"I hear I missed quite a show today," my step-cousin, Gia Di Mitri, said from the doorway of the salon break room.
I turned my head to glare at her but winced instead. I didn't know which was more blinding—the afternoon sun shining through the bay window or Gia's bright-blue stretch top, pink cheetah-print tights, and neon-yellow stilettos. "Who told you that?"
"Woman Mouth," she replied, translating Donna Bocca's name from Italian. "I was shopping at Lily's Lingerie when she came in for her shift. She told everyone in the store that the statue gave Zac Taylor a lap dance." She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a can of lemon soda. "Which is pretty funny if you think about it."
"Yeah. Hilarious." Despite my sarcasm, I could see the humor. It was a tragic comedy.
Gia popped the tab on the can and flopped into a chair. "Just remember, Cass, there's no such thing as bad publicity."
"No?" I spread my arms to emphasize the emptiness of the salon.
Lucy O'Connell rushed into the room, her curly red tendrils flying. "Sorry I'm late," she said as she took a seat at the table. "Since we didn't have any clients, I babysat for Mallory Winchester while she ran an errand, but it took longer than she expected." She bit her lip. "She said it was because she had to stop by here to
