Page 15 of Rage's Solace
“No, they really weren’t. By the time I was starting high school, my mother discovered that my father had a gambling problem. He’d taken out a second mortgage on our house, our cars all had loans against them and his business was slowly failing.”
“Fucking hell, they practically sold you to that bastard.”
When she doesn’t respond, I know that I’ve taken this conversation too far, so I apologize. “I’m really sorry, Priscilla. I didn’t mean to rake up so many bad memories for you today.”
She turns to look out the window again, “The memories are always there, Ray, no matter whether or not I talk about them. So, don’t be worried on that accord.”
I reach over and cover her hands with mine. “For the rest of the day, we’re not going to talk about the past, only the present and future. How does that sound.”
She puts her free hand on top mine and gives me a wary smile, “That actually sounds fantastic. I feel like I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster the last couple of weeks.”
***
We manage to stay off touchy subjects for the rest of the journey and by the time we reach Las Salinas, Priscilla has a genuine smile on her face. I pull into Francesca’s Boutique. I park up and help her out the truck again, enjoying the feel of her arm around my waist.
When I put her down on her feet, she holds my arm with both hands for a moment to stabilize herself. I like the way she clings to me too much and am far too disappointed when her hands slip away.
She looks up at the sign, and reads it out, “Francesca’s Boutique, Hair and Nail Salon.” Turning to me she grins, “Sounds like a one stop shop, right?”
“Yeah, it is. Trust me, this is just your kind of place, Prissy.”
Her indulgent smile made me feel things I shouldn’t ought to feel. This was the woman who ran out on me all those years ago. She let her family pressure her into marrying another man because his family was rich. I’d pinned all my hopes on marrying Priscilla and creating the loving family I never had, but it exploded in my face.
Chapter 6
Priscilla
The moment we enter the boutique, the woman behind the counter lights up, “Rage, where have you been hiding your sexy self?”
The last sentence was said while side-eyeing me. I know my face falls because I realize this is what hanging out with Rage is going to be like, every beautiful female falling all over him, flirting her ass off and trying to hook up with him. I have no right to feel any kind of way about this situation, yet I do.
I physically turn away, spotting a chair nearby and make my way to it to let them flirt in peace. Rage stays right by my side and the moment I sit down he pops a squat beside me, his face smiling and happy. He leans over and whispers in my ear. “She’s not trying to make you uncomfortable.” Jerking his chin to the left, he adds, “She’s trying her best to make him jealous.”
I glance over to find a skinny man with beady eyes and a pencil protector in his shirt pocket flipping through a rack of clothing. He sneaks a quick glance at the woman and becomes visibly alarmed to see her standing in the middle of the floor staring at him. He jerks back, turns on his heel and literally goes running out the door. It’s seriously the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.
The woman makes her way back over to us and the first words out of Rage’s mouth are “Why do you always pick the really strange ones to fall in love with? If I didn’t know better, Frankie, I’d almost think you didn’t like yourself very much.”
She just shrugs irritably and replies, “Socially awkward men need love too, he’s really sweet when you get to know him.” I see her eyes turn to look out the window. The strange man is literally standing in the store’s big picture window, looking at her.
I get that they think the guy’s socially awkward, but I’m thinking he’s serial killer weird. After being married to Conrad and knowing his dysfunctional family, I’m good at picking up the maladaptive kind of weird. I don’t say that, though. It would be rude to yuck another woman’s yum.
When the guy smiles oddly and goes running off again, Francesca turns back to us. “What can I get for you today, Rage? It’s not like you to come in here.” The flirtatiousness is gone from her voice and she’s all business.
Rage comes to his feet. “My friend just got out of the hospital. She needs the works.”
The woman’s eyes light up for a second before she frowns. “Can do, we’re quiet today, but maybe next time call first? Our masseuse isn’t here today, so it won’t be the full works.”
Rage’s voice falters for a second. “I don’t make a habit of collecting injured women, this is a one-off special I told you, she just got out of the hospital. The last thing she needs is a masseuse.”
I speak up, “I’m not sure how good I’ll be at trying on clothing. I’m still a bit sore.”
Francesca gives me a broad smile, “Don’t worry sweetheart, I can help with that, or even try on stuff if you want? We’re a similar size. But what say, we start with your hair? I know how good a new hairstyle can make a woman feel.”
My hand goes up to smooth my pale blonde hair back. It’s gotten to be dull and lifeless in the last few years, likely from stress. It’s just another reminder that I’m not presenting at my best when I most want to look nice.
When my hand drops to my side, Rage takes hold of it and tugs me to my feet. Before I know it, we’re in an adjoining room on the far end of the boutique. It’s a small, posh three-seat beauty salon. I slide into the seat as Francesca talks to the hair stylist. The three of us talk a little bit about what I want my hair to look like as Rage drops down into one of the spare seats. It looks like it’s a slow day for the salon because we’re the only customers.
The stylist makes short work of cutting, coloring, and styling my hair. By the time she’s finished, I look more like my old self. The shoulder-length honey blonde is that hint of warmth my complexion needs to not look so washed out.