“No!” giggled his son. “I’m only two! Almost three!”
Shaking his head and smiling, Jake headed through the house with kids hot on his heels. The back of the truck was packed tight. Carefully, Jake lifted out a small rucksack and handed it down to Jesse.
“Put it in the lounge room,” he instructed, smiling as the bag dwarfed the little boy.
Next, he grabbed his battered leather book bag and passed it to Melody.
“Can you please put that in the dining room? Careful with it. My laptop’s in it. Don’t drop it.”
By the time the kids scampered back down the front steps, Jake had hauled his two suitcases and his holdall out of the truck and dumped his worn leather jacket on top.
“Jesse, you take my jacket,” he suggested. “Miss M, can you lift the holdall?”
The little girl tried then shook her head, “Too heavy.”
“Ok. Grab the handle on the red case. Try hauling that one in,” said Jake as he hefted the holdall onto his shoulder. He grabbed the larger silver case and followed the kids into the house, shouting “Bedroom!” as he went down the hall.
With his luggage abandoned in the middle of the bedroom floor, Jake thanked them for their help, adding that he’d fetch his guitars himself.
“Want to help!” protested Jesse shrilly.
“Can you count them for me if I bring them in?” asked Jake, unsure as to how high his son could count.
Jesse nodded.
“Great. Go wait in the lounge. Count them as I load them in.”
By the time Jake had the truck empty, there were two piles of guitar cases in the lounge plus three guitars on the couch.
“How many did you count, buddy?” he asked Jesse.
“Six.”
“Miss M, you count them. See how many you count in,” suggested Jake. “There should be ten.”
With a serious look on her face, Melody counted the cases on the floor and the three on the couch.
“Eight,” she replied. “You’ve lost two.”
“You sure?” teased Jake. “That’s two more than your brother counted.”
“He can only count to six,” stated Melody bluntly. “There’s eight boxes.”
“Not ten?”
“No. Eight.”
“Clever girl,” praised Jake, hoisting both kids into his arms for a group hug. “Uncle Grey has the other two. Want to go see him later and pick them up?”
“Yes!” squealed both kids at once.
“Ok,” laughed Jake. “You guys go and play till I jump in the shower. Then, after haircuts and ice cream, we’ll go and see Grey and Kola.”
Rehoboth was busy noted Jake as he drove into the centre of town. It was early in the season for the place to be so jampacked mid-week but Lori had said they had been enjoying a mini-heatwave so he guessed that had attracted an influx of visitors. The barbers that he went to was beside Danny’s tattoo parlour and, as he parked the truck behind the building, he debated dropping in to see the tattooist then decided against it. Mentally, he made a note to come back later in the week when the kids weren’t with him.
The barber’s shop door was wedged open when Jake and the kids came round. There were two people waiting in line ahead of them.
“Hi, Jake!” called out Kristy when she saw him reflected in the mirror. “Long time no see!”
“Been away,” he replied with a wink as he took a seat on the bench.
Looking anxious, Jesse scrambled onto his knee and cuddled into his chest.
“What’s up, buddy?” checked Jake softly as he hugged his son.
“No haircut,” Jesse whimpered tearfully.
“No haircut, no ice cream,” replied Jake calmly. “Up to you.”
“Want ice cream.”
“Well, if you want an ice cream, you need to get a haircut,” stated Jake. “No arguments.”
Eventually, Kristy was ready for them and called Jake over.
“Can you give this young man a trim first?”
“No haircut!” wailed Jesse painfully.
“Yes haircut,” countered Jake firmly. “You want an ice cream, right?”
The little boy nodded as two big tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Then sit nicely and let Kristy trim that hair.”
Reluctantly, the little boy sat on the booster cushion that the hairdresser put down on the chair. It only took her a few minutes to trim his white-blonde hair.
“Do you want me to shave it in at the back for him?”
“Please,” said Jake, unsure if Lori would have said yes or no. “Make the most of his patience.”
The second that the towel was removed from his shoulders, Jesse leapt down from the seat.
“Scratchy,” he complained as he rubbed furiously as his neck.
“Give me a second,” said Kristy with a warm smile. “Let me grab my magic brush.”
She produced a soft brush from the shelf under the mirror in front of the chair and started to brush the stray hairs away from the little boy’s tanned neck.
“Tickles!” giggled Jesse, jumping up and down.
“Right, you’re done,” she declared. “Now, sit back on the bench till I deal with your daddy’s hair.”
As he sat down in the barber’s chair, Jake said, “Thanks for that. Poor kid hates getting his hair cut.”
“All part of the job,” replied Kristy. “Now, when did you last get this hair trimmed?”
“Been a while,” admitted Jake. “Last fall maybe? Last summer?”
“How much am I cutting off?”
“Start with six inches,” suggested Jake, feeling his own stomach tighten with nerves. “And don’t tell my kids that I hate this as much as they do.”
“Your secret’s safe,” whispered Kristy, smiling at the nervous rock star in front of her. “How about I just take it back to your usual length?”
Jake nodded as he gripped the arms of chair tightly. He cringed as he felt the sharp scissors make their first cut into his thick blonde hair.
As they left the shop a few minutes later, Melody
