Color Me Bad: A Novella (2 page)

But when she arrived alone today, Ruby could almost feel her anger. The little preacher’s wife hadn’t said a word to anyone from the time she walked in the front door. Ruby knew better than to ask what was wrong.

Then the bell jingled over the door.

“Hey, Patty, excuse me a sec,” Ruby said, and headed for the front of the shop as a tall, leggy redhead walked in.

“Bobbette. Long time no see,” Ruby said.

“Hi, Sister! I haven’t been here in a while. I moved to Chesterville after Daddy died.”

“Well, I’ll say! I didn’t know that,” Ruby said. “How can I help you?”

Bobbette batted her fake eyelashes in double time and held out her right hand.

“Can you believe it? One of my nails has popped off. Makes my finger looked naked. I was wondering if Mabel Jean had time to put on a new one.”

“That’s acrylic, right?” Ruby asked.

“Yes. I tried silk wrap once but I didn’t much like them. So can she fix it? I have a hot date and I don’t like to keep my honey waiting, if you know what I mean.”

“Ooh, so you’ve got yourself a fellow, do you? What’s his name?”

Bobbette giggled. “I never kiss and tell. So can Mabel Jean work me in?”

“She’s across the street eating lunch at Granny’s. Why don’t you run over there and ask her?”

“Thanks, Ruby. See you in a bit.”

Bobbette Paulson made a quick exit as Ruby went back to Patty June.

“Sorry for the wait,” Ruby said and picked up the hair dryer, then caught the pissed-off look on Patty June’s face.

“Is everything all right?” Ruby asked.

Patty countered with a question of her own. “Sister, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How do you feel about fornication?”

Ruby blinked. “Excuse me?”

Patty lowered her voice. “How do you feel about people who fornicate with someone other than their spouse?”

“Oh. You mean cheat? Sleep around? You’re asking me? Girl, that’s why I’m not married. My old man cheated on me for a year and I didn’t know it. Might never have known it if it hadn’t been for our next-door neighbor’s kid. He asked me who the blond lady was who came to my house every Tuesday and Thursday, which happened to be the days I went in to work early. Can you imagine?”

Patty’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I can imagine. What did you do?”

“I left him, that’s what.”

“But what did you do to
him
?”

Ruby frowned. “Nothing.”

Patty’s face turned a bright shade of pink.

Ruby blinked. “Is everything okay?”

Patty’s mouth pursed tighter than a miser’s fist. “Why, everything is just fine, and thank you for asking.”

“Okay, sure,” Ruby said. She grabbed the hair dryer and the vent brush and started styling Patty June’s hair.

A few minutes later the door jingled again. Ruby looked over her shoulder, but it was just Mabel Jean coming back with Bobbette.

“So, Patty, is the economy affecting the collection plate on Sundays?” Ruby asked.

Patty didn’t answer. She was staring into the mirror, her gaze locked on the two women sitting at the manicure table behind her. Every time Bobbette tossed her long red hair and laughed at something Mabel Jean said, a nerve twitched at the corner of Patty’s eyes and her lips clenched a little tighter.

Ruby knew that look. It was pure, unadulterated hate, and that’s when it hit her. What if the reason the preacher had been absent for so long was because he was cheating on Patty? And what if Bobbette Paulson was the hussy he was banging, and Patty June knew it?

All the hair stood up at the back of Ruby’s neck. If this was so, the fact that they were, by accident, suddenly sitting in the same room was a recipe for disaster. The faster she got these two women separated, the better.

She turned the dryer up on high and finished off Patty’s hair in record time, grabbing the hair spray and blasting the style into the little brown helmet Patty June preferred. Ruby whisked the cape from around Patty’s shoulders and all but dragged her to the counter to pay.

“There you go, Patty June! Want me to put you down for the same time next week?”

Patty laid a twenty on the counter, set her purse down on the floor, and looked Ruby straight in the face.

“I’m not sure if I’ll be out of jail by then.”

Before Ruby could react, Patty made a run for the manicure table. Ruby gasped and tried to head her off, but Patty was faster.

Patty snatched the battery-powered clippers from Vesta’s work station as she passed, then grabbed a hunk of Bobbette’s long red hair and yanked down as hard as she could.

Bobbette screamed as her head popped back.

Mabel Jean jumped. The nail form on Bobbette’s finger popped off, and the liquid acrylic Mabel Jean was using turned over and began running off the table onto Bobbette’s shoe.

Vesta and Vera flew out of the break room, still holding their salad bowls and their forks, saw what was going on, looked at each other, and then took another bite, chewing faster as they watched what ensued.

Ruby was reaching for Patty’s arm, but it was all too late.

The clippers were buzzing on high when Patty made the first swipe through Bobbette’s long red hair, cutting a neat swath from the hairline all the way to the crown. Then she shoved Bobbette’s head forward, smashing her nose against the manicure table, and finished the cut all the way to the nape of her neck, leaving a gap in her hair a good three inches wide.

Ruby moaned. There was no way that was ever going to pass for a part.

Bobbette’s top lip was busted; her nose was leaning sideways on her face and bleeding profusely. She was screeching bloody murder when she flew out of the chair to face her attacker. Then she saw who it was and choked down the next screech as Mabel Jean shoved a towel under her nose to catch the blood. Bobbette’s mind was racing, but her speech was seriously impaired by a swollen mouth and broken nose.

“Uh… well, by lord, Batty Jude, hab you lost your bind?” Bobbette cried.

“No. Just my husband, and for what it’s worth, you can have the little bastard. He’s not worth beans when it comes to sex, but I suspect you already know that by now. What you don’t know is that the money in our family is mine, not his. So once the Baptist ministry has their weekly meeting and fires his ass for fornicating with a harlot, he’s not only going to be out of a job, he’s going to be broke and homeless… bless his heart.”

Bobbette was blinking back tears of pain, but her mind was racing. This was definitely not good news.

“Do you have anything you want to say to me before you call the police?” Patty asked.

Bobbette tilted her head back and shoved the towel tighter against her nose to stanch the flow. The last thing she wanted was to get the police involved.

“I’b not calling the bolice,” she mumbled.

“Really? I’ve just assaulted you and started a fight in The Curl Up and Dye. I’m sure there’s damage to the property and—”

“No, no damage here,” Ruby said quickly.

Bobbette groaned as she traced the path of stubble that began at her widow’s peak and went all the way down to the back of her neck.

“Lord hab mercy,” she mumbled, then rolled her eyes. “I’m sure this was an accident and—”

“No, it wasn’t an accident. However, it wasn’t premeditated. That I can swear to, because I did not know you would be here.” Patty handed the clippers to Ruby. “When you talk to the police, tell them I did not run from the scene of the crime and that I will be at home when they come to arrest me.”

Bobbette rolled her eyes, then winced because even that hurt.

“I’b not pressing charges.”

Patty frowned. “A harlot and a coward! You must be such a disappointment to your mama.” Then she smiled at Ruby. “So, I guess you can put me down at my regular time next week after all. Y’all have a nice day.”

The door jingled when she opened it, and then she was gone, leaving the women to stare at each other in disbelief.

Vesta handed Vera her bowl and fork and went to clean up her station. She had an appointment due in about fifteen minutes and needed to sweep up the red hair before she arrived.

Mabel Jean grabbed some rags and began sopping up the acrylic, then went to the back room to get some more cleaning supplies, leaving Ruby with the task of dealing with Bobbette.

“Uh, do you want me to call an ambulance?” Ruby asked.

Bobbette thought about the future and the fate of her hot date, and frowned.

“Dough, but I deed a ride to the Hoddywood botel to pick up by car.”

There were several reasons Vesta and Vera Conklin had reached the age of forty-two without getting married, and they were looking at one of the reasons why. Men could not be trusted around easy women.

“Why don’t you call your hot date?” Vesta asked.

Bobbette glared, pulled out her cell phone, and punched in the number to her mother’s house.

Vera snickered and then ducked back into the break room.

“Baba, it’s be, Bobbette. I’b at duh booty shob here in town. Cub get be. Hurry.”

She dropped the cell phone in her purse, then yanked the cape off the back of Vesta’s chair, threw it around her shoulders, and proceeded to shave herself bald.

“What in the world?” Vesta cried.

“I’b baking lembunade out of lembuns. Had accident. See… bwoken dose. Busted lib. I’ll work dis look till by hair grows out.”

Then she pulled a scarf out of her purse, tied it turban-style around her head, and handed Ruby two twenty-dollar bills.

“For duh mess and duh towel,” she said, and sailed out the door with her head up, the bloody towel pressed against her nose and her backside swaying.

Moments later, her ride pulled up in front of the shop. They saw her mother scream, although the car windows were up so they didn’t actually hear it, and then watched as they drove away.

“Well, that just about takes the cake,” Vera said, as she came out of the break room.

They were still giggling as they began putting the shop back together. A couple of minutes later, the bell jingled over the door yet again. They looked up.

Conrad Clymer was standing in the doorway with an uneasy look on his face.

“By any chance would… I mean, is—”

“Who are you looking for? Your wife or your whore?” Vera asked.

He gasped, as all the color faded from his face.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re gonna be begging for more than a pardon before this day is over,” Vesta said, as she continued to sweep up the red hair at her station.

He looked down. He’d had some damn good blow jobs with his fists wrapped in hair that color.

“Sweet Jesus,” he muttered. “Is that… uh, what…”

“Bobbette Paulson’s hair? Why yes, it is. Patty June shaved part of it off. Never would of guessed it, but she’s got a real mean streak. And, you can tell Bobbette is a stickler for style. She shaved the rest off herself so it would match. Nothing worse than a messy hairstyle,” Vesta added.

“I, uh…”

He pivoted on one heel and flew out the door.

The four women looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

Their day was about to level off, but Patty June’s day had just shifted gears.

•••

Patty June had been thinking about this day for weeks. She knew in advance what she would do once it all came undone, and the first place she stopped after she left the salon was at the First National Bank of Blessings. She was operating on adrenaline as she walked up to the vice president and sat down without being asked.

“I need to move some of my money,” she announced.

Lawrence Cornwall smiled and started to wave a teller over when Patty June stopped him.

“No. You do it, Larry. Please.”

Lawrence blinked. It was the tremble in her lower lip that did him in.

“Why, certainly, Patty June. Tell me what you want and it’s done.”

“I need to open a new account in just my name. Then I want you to transfer all but fifteen-hundred dollars of the money in our personal checking account into the new one. Then I need all of my IRAs and the saving account moved into just my name.”

Lawrence gasped. “Patty June… is there—”

“Conrad has been fornicating with Bobbette Paulson, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t know about it. The money is mine. I’m leaving him his last month’s salary, and it’s more than he deserves. Move it all now, please. I will wait.”

“Oh my stars, I am so sorry,” Lawrence muttered.

“Yes, well, so am I, Larry, but it is what it is.”

“Sit tight, Patty June. This won’t take long,” Lawrence said.

And it didn’t. Once it was finished, Patty stood abruptly, shook Lawrence’s hand in a forthright manner, and walked out of the bank with her head held high.

She didn’t remember driving home. It wasn’t until she started up the steps of her house that she realized what she’d done. By the time she got indoors, she was shaking. She made it down the hall, but when she walked into the bedroom, she dropped to her knees.

All the little lies she’d been telling herself to excuse Conrad’s behavior were gone, and now everyone in town would know it, too. There was nothing left to face but the truth. Her husband was a cheat. Her marriage was over. She’d known it for months, but today it was final. She rolled up in a little ball on the floor and proceeded to cry until her head was throbbing and there was snot all over her face. She was thinking about getting up to get a tissue when she noticed dust bunnies underneath the bed. It appeared she could not keep a house
or
a husband.

Wearily, she pushed herself up off the floor and staggered into the bathroom to clean up. When she came back, she headed for the closet and began dragging his clothes out by the armfuls, making trip after trip to the front porch until his side of the closet was empty and his clothes were all over the porch and the yard.

Next, she went to the kitchen for a trash bag and began emptying the dresser drawers and all the drawers in his office. Then she dragged the bag out onto the porch and threw it into the yard.

Next stop was his office, and she cleared it as well, dumping computer equipment in the yard. When she began emptying two shelves of his reference books from the bookcase, she was more careful, taking special care of his big Bible with all of his favorite highlighted passages. She could have happily set fire to everything he owned, except the books. There was no need to destroy words from the Good Book just because he’d touched it. She hated Conrad, but she didn’t hold a grudge against God.