They went over the song three times before they called it a day, and on their way out, Gray tossed him a baseball cap. "Tuck that long shit up inside, and no one will recognize you. Without the hair, you look like a dad ready to coach a little league team."
Alex stared at the cap in his hand. Could it be that simple? Was a new identity all he needed? He tossed the hat back. "What if I cut it all off?"
Samantha dropped her mic. "No way. You've been sporting prettier hair than me for years."
It was true. He had better hair than most women, but he didn't ruin it with curling irons and hair dye. He was a wash-and-wear guy.
He couldn't remember a time when his hair didn't hang to the middle of his back. It came part and parcel with his badass drummer image, but he was thirty-eight. Maybe it was time to let it go.
"Dude, I dare you to lob that shit off."
"But the ladies like it," Alex said.
Samantha walked up and yanked his hair tie out. "Yep, the same ladies who stalk you and leave you gifts."
Gray shook his head. "Don't do it. Changes like that could keep you celibate for years."
"Talking from experience?" Alex asked.
"Nope, I do fine with the ladies."
"I'm out," Samantha waved her hand in the air. "Hearing you talk about your conquests makes me want to write a song called, 'Men are Dicks.'"
Red raised his hand. "Guilty."
"I know." She pointed at him. "Fix whatever you have to with Deanna. I was serious when I said it would be easier to replace you than her." Samantha walked out the door.
Gray slapped Red on the back. "You’re expendable."
Red looked around the studio. "We all are. Anyone want to join me for a beer?"
Alex shook his head. "Naw, I think I am going to get my hair cut."
Twenty minutes later, he was sitting in Cove Cuts, getting his gorgeous mane clipped by the sheriff's wife.
"Are you sure you want to cut it all off?"
He stared in the mirror at his long dark hair. It was time for a change, and if in the process it kept the crazies from pursuing him, then that was a bonus.
"Let's do it."
"You want to donate it to Locks of Love?"
"Sure, it would be nice to know someone benefits."
Hopefully, I will too.
She pulled his hair into a ponytail and chopped it off above the rubber band. She held up close to two feet of hair.
Immediately he felt much lighter and swore he was dizzy, or maybe that was the shock of seeing it all gone.
Marina spent the next thirty minutes shaping it up and giving him a haircut that would make a lawyer proud. When she was finished, he hardly recognized himself.
"I feel naked."
She laughed. "Trust me, you're not. But I think your hair looks nice. You can really see your eyes now and your chiseled jaw."
"Chiseled jaw, huh." If he didn't know she was madly in love with Sheriff Cooper, he would think she was flirting, but she wasn't. She was telling it like it was. He did have noticeable facial features now that his hair wasn't the focus. He rubbed his hand across his jaw. "Leave the scruff or shave it clean?"
"You can't take all the bad boy out of you."
He paid her and walked outside to give his new look a test drive. If the people who knew him didn't recognize him on sight, his fans wouldn't either. At least not until a new picture made the rounds.
He walked into Bishop's Brewhouse and sat at the bar.
Cannon approached and put a coaster in front of him. "Welcome to Bishop's, what can I get you?"
Alex looked straight at Cannon and ordered an IPA. Cannon turned to pull the beer from the tap and glanced Alex's way twice before his jaw dropped.
"Holy shit, I didn't recognize you."
Alex threw his fist in the air. "Mission accomplished."
Chapter Three
Some of the bills Mercy had flung across the room yesterday still littered the floor this morning. While her coffee brewed, she ambled around and picked them up. Stacking them on the table month to month wasn't helping.
She glanced at the one in her hand. Theresa Taft Diamonds. That was for her wedding ring. She tried to take it back, but they didn't accept returns after a year, so she sold it for half of its worth. Actually, half of what he paid, which was far too much for what it was—a small diamond on a gold band.
She grabbed her coffee, took a seat, and closed her eyes. The memory of the proposal was still fresh. Randy was charming, and the courtship a whirlwind. In hindsight, she should have known he was capable of cheating. He picked her up in his office when she came for an insurance quote. He wasn't rich, but he was funny.
On the day he proposed, they went to the lake, and he got down on a knee. It was all so romantic.
"How did everything go to hell?" she mumbled.
The first year was great, and they had fun getting to know each other. He didn't make much money, so she was the primary breadwinner in the family, but that wasn't a problem because they were a team until they weren't.
After their first anniversary, he started complaining about their lack of money. That's when he began his habit of working late. When he smelled of perfume, she didn't worry because he was in close quarters with clients—clients who got more than insurance from her handsome husband. After the funeral, she found out Randy was a serial cheater. He liked the idea of being married to a pretty schoolteacher. It brought him a sense of respectability even though he wasn't respectful to her, their marriage, or his clientele. If he hadn't died, would
