“You did the right thing,” Fintan tells me, though I can barely bring myself to care about his approval of my actions.
My eldest brother stands among the smattering of police officers, his light brown hair coiffed in the same style it’s been since he was in high school. Short on the sides and back, two-inch swoop in the front.
“Good that you showed this to Dad. We need to move on this now.”
My father’s mouth has been in a tight line ever since I spun on my heel and marched right back into the salon to show him the note. I know for a fact that if we hadn’t had our mini breakthrough, I would have hidden the threat on my life from him, afraid he would send me overseas again once he saw it.
To his credit, my father has been measured and on the job since his hot facial towel came off.
To my stylists’ credit, the appointments haven’t thinned out, even with the gaggle of squad cars in the parking lot of my business.
I am usually great at pretending. I can pretend I have a normal life expectancy. I can pretend I’m not in love with Rome. I can pretend all sorts of things with effortless grace. Pretending that it doesn’t bother me to have a threat placed inside my locked car is no small feat, but my smile is up for the challenge.
Because I know the second Fintan or my father sees me panic, they will send me away again. So I march right back into my salon and sit a person waiting for a haircut into my chair on the end.
As I trim the woman’s hair a quarter of an inch, I draw my calm from the extra dose of my medication and the fact that this madness will end with me. I will never have a daughter who will be haunted and hunted like I am.
When I feel the pinch of my genetics, it helps me to go to a file of saved photos on my phone and flip through until I feel grounded once more. If there is a picture of my mother on the internet, I have it in this collection. She received threats like this often, I’ve been told, yet in all the photos of her, she is poised and unbothered.
I want to be like that.
Once my client is finished, I steal the briefest of moments to glance at a photo of my mother in a deep blue gown, shaking hands with the Prime Minister, of all people.
She is beautiful and poised, as if no obstacle is too tall for her to cross over in her formidable heels.
I quickly tuck my phone in the pocket of my short sage pencil skirt, lest I appear unprofessional.
From the pictures I have seen of my mother, I am well aware that I set the tone for how worried other people allow themselves to be over these threats. Malice will always come; it always has come. But every picture I’ve seen of my mother in newspaper clippings features her with her chin held gloriously high, daring people to trifle her with anything other than her family, civil rights or fashion.
Mother was photographed to the hilt everywhere she went, so her favorite fashion designer sent her couture dresses for every event she attended. That was back when my parents did their part to push for peace between the races. My father stopped caring about most things once his wife died.
Maybe after Rome gets the West End under control, I can take up my mother’s mantle and do my part to show the world that people who are different than us are still people worthy of protection, love and affection.
I swallow hard, ashamed that I am not doing all I can to help Rome and his people.
I got a few parks fixed up in the West End. That’s all. I can do more than that. My mother would have done more.
Despite the fact that it is the middle of the day and there are cops and members of my family all over the place, the moment my client is finished with her new cut and style, I sneak into my office to call Rome.
He picks up on the second ring, which is very much his way. “What can I do for you, John?” comes his low, sexy voice.
I don’t even mind that he calls me by a man’s name. It’s his way of telling me that he is not alone, but wishes he was, so he could seduce me nice and proper over the phone.
“I’m not doing enough,” I tell him flat out. I don’t have much time for niceties or the flirting I want to be doing.
I can picture Rome’s frown. “I’m not sure what led you to that conclusion.”
“My mother met with mayors and governors and prime ministers to push for vampire rights to be taken seriously. All I’m doing is cleaning up parks and opening a business that isn’t segregated. I’m thinking too small.”
I know Rome wants to voice his lengthy opinion on this, but because he is not alone, he can’t. “I’m not sure what that would entail. It sounds like a lot of risk, and you already have your fair share of that.”
I shrug, as if the whole thing is no big deal. “Then what’s a little added danger? My mother had more risk aimed her way, and she still fought as long as her natural life would allow.” I close my eyes, wishing for our beach, even though it’s far too cold for that. Still, I would risk hypothermia for a sliver of clarity that comes from talking things through with someone who understands and loves me.
Before Rome can weigh in, I confess the thing I would normally keep to myself. My thoughts are all over the place, but I know before I end this call, I need to tell my boyfriend the most pressing item of the day. “I don’t want a half relationship, where I assume you’ll only want to be with me if I am strong and have everything in order.”
“Absolutely. I’m glad you’re telling me this.”
I suck in a deep breath before the truth spills out. “I don’t want you to worry, but I also don’t want to hide things from you. Someone broke into my car this morning and left a note on my seat, threatening to abduct me if I didn’t join the revolution and hand myself over.”
There is a beat of silence, and then Rome springs into action. “Orlando, let’s move. Nico, I need you to check on the Hillsbury account. Make sure no money moved that looks out of the ordinary.”
I can hear Nico’s surprise. “You’re letting me look at accounts?”
“Can you handle it?”
I hear the wonder of Nino-bear’s pride swelling at what is clearly a promotion given to him from his big brother on the fly.
I’m guessing that wouldn’t have happened if Rome didn’t want his baby brother far away from the hint of our affair.
You’re welcome, Nino-bear.
“Is the sheriff aware?” Rome asks me.
“Yeah. My father, Fintan and a few extra blues are at the salon. I’m not closing. I’m not affected,” I lie. “It’s all fine and under control. I just didn’t want to hide it from you.”
Rome’s voice softens to a coo. I’m not sure how his sweetness could be disguised as being directed at “John”. “I’m proud of you. That was the right thing to do. I’m on my way.”
“Rome, it’s okay. It’s under control.”
“But I’m not. I’m sure your people are just fine, but I won’t sleep unless Orlando and I get a look at everything.”
I blow a long breath out through pursed lips. “I didn’t call to set off the alarms.”
Rome chuckles. “Oh, trust me. This is me underreacting. You’ll know if you’ve truly set off all my alarms.”
I want to tell him I love him, but the knock on my door warns me our time is up. “You heard about this not from me, got it? Police scanner or whatever.”
“Of course.”
I end the call and then roll my shoulders back as I move to open the door. Rachel’s arms coil around my shoulders the second I emerge. “Tell me there’s no reason to be afraid.”
I squeeze her gently. “Of course not. My father comes by all the time, and it’s no big deal.”
“You know this is different. There are like, eight officers here.” Her voice lowers. “I heard them, Colette. I heard what the note said.”
Her fright does me no good, so I do my best not to feel it. I summon my mother’s strength in my bones and don a confidence I wish was genuine. “Some people don’t understand what we’re doing here, but they will. They want our love to stay small and be directed only at humans, but that’s not me, and I know that’s not you.”
Rachel sucks in a shuddering breath. “I knew the risks we were taking. But I don’t think I fully understood the risks you are taking until now. They really broke into your car? In our parking lot?”
I kiss her cheek because I refuse to be anyone less than my perfect mother in this situation. “Everything is going to be okay.” It’s a promise Declan used to give me on the phone when we were so very far apart. It was a hollow promise, but I loved him for the lie. I needed to hear it, and I hope Rachel clings to it, too.
She nods and then releases me, turning to find my father watching us from a few feet away. “Sorry, Sheriff. You probably needed your daughter for something, and here I am, hogging her.” She grins at my father, who surprisingly smiles at her.
My father extends his hand, shaking Rachel’s grip with kindness in his eyes, in lieu of his usual stalwart nature. “Rachel, is it? I’m Elias. It’s nice to meet you.”
It shouldn’t be strange to see my father being kind for no reason, but I can’t look away from the oddity. The sheriff never wanted to meet my friends when I was little, other than to keep tabs on their parents. He was more concerned about the adults I might encounter. Besides, my best friend was Nino-bear, and we mainly kept to each other.
“Thanks for coming here, Sheriff. This whole thing has me a little on edge.”
My father brings his other hand to rest atop their joined grip. “Don’t you worry about a thing. We’ll find out who did this. We always do.”
That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. We never do. We never get to the bottom of who sends me threatening letters. The only thing that made them stop the first time was when I moved away.
I don’t know what to do with my dad when he takes an interest in my life or my friends that doesn’t have anything to do with his job.
I shoot him a look of suspicion that says as much, but he pretends not to see it. “Nice girl, that one.”
I nod, and then excuse myself, getting to my next client. Dealing with threatening notes is one thing, but coming face to face with my father when he’s being friendly? I still don’t know how to do that gracefully.
I keep a chipper disposition about me and turn the volume up on the sultry singers of the jazz era, so no one feels the need to leave prematurely. Today is a normal, happy day. Nothing to see here.
That is, not until Rome and Orlando stalk in through the front door, garnering all eyes. Even the music seems to quiet in their presence.
Rome beelines for my father, motioning for a more private setting for their conversation.
I definitely don’t want to be there for that.
I pretend my hardest, acting as if my heart doesn’t long to swoon for Rome. I feign calm as if the threat doesn’t affect me one bit.
My father, Fintan, Rome and Orlando head into my office, closing the door so they can work together to get to the bottom of this.