Chapter 3
2038 Words
Rachel
“Your hair is too long now,” Zara commented…again.
I tiredly looked at her. “Haven’t you had enough telling me that?”
She shrugged. “Well, I will keep saying that until you arrange them again. Long hair is my favorite,” she grinned and looked at my current ponytail hair like her favorite lotus ice cream and she was ready to devour them. I knew long hair was her thing. Zara was my friend in Coffee Club. And she was also a lesbian. She didn’t hide it. On the contrary, she opened herself and told everyone if someone asked. She was pretty famous in guys’ eyes, but she bluntly told them that she was into girls. Despite how they would look at her, Zara wasn’t bothered by it. Not anymore, at least. The good news was everyone in the café accepted her orientation. Not like I would mind having a different s****l orientation friend around me. It was a pity that she was, though. Zara was beautiful in her natural dark hair and pair of brown eyes. Guys swooned over her. But like I said, she liked women more.
“Did something happen to you recently?” she asked as she rested her elbows on top of the counter.
“Why do you say that?”
“You look desperate.” Well, ouch. Desperate, huh? I wonder if I was. Maybe I was.
Desperate to forget the past.
Desperate to cure my scissor phobia.
Jesus, it was getting stupid now. Scissor phobia? Seriously, Rach? I mentally laughed.
“I met my professor,” I told her.
“The one who wants to f**k you?”
“He doesn’t want to!” I countered. “Zara, he has a wife. He was just helping me.”
“What did he do?”
“I had a panic attack.” In an instant, Zara’s expression changed.
“Oh… What, did you dump him, and he threatened you with a scissor? Because if he did, I would cut his balls so he would never have kids forever.” I chuckled at her cruel joke. Because, seriously, Zara looked serious it scared me. I slightly hoped that was what happened. It wasn’t.
“I knocked on his stationaries. Coincidentally, I grabbed the damn thing.”
“Ouch. And you had a panic attack in front of him,” she clarified. I nodded in shame.
“I embarrassed myself,” I muttered.
“Rach, come on. That was normal when you were facing your trauma. Was he being a d**k to you?”
“No. Professor Dunn helped me. He calmed me down. He didn’t even ask me what happened. He said he didn’t want to force me.”
Zara whistled. “How understanding of him.” I nodded in agreement.
“Besides, if he truly wanted me as everyone claimed, he would ask me immediately. That just proved a point he wasn’t interested in me.”
“Yeah, well, I won’t soon go into that conclusion. Just be careful around him. Sometimes you’re too naïve to believe everyone was being nice to you without any ulterior motive,” she worriedly asked.
“I will.”
“Hey,” Zara touched my hand as we looked at each other. She smiled, “You will be okay, okay? It’s not easy, but you can conquer your fear one day. You need to trust yourself more,” she convinced me.
I smiled. “Thanks, Zara.”
“And for the million times, do something to your hair.” I cracked out laughing.
“Can you cover me for two minutes?”
“You’re going to cut your hair for two minutes?” she sarcastically asked.
“Very funny. I’ll be right back.” I left her to the staff room. I checked myself in the bathroom. I untied my hair and spread them in front. Yep, too long. It was time to cut them. There’s a salon just across the shop, my inner voice said. They were good. They knew what they were doing. They had handled many hairs in their entire life. They would make my hair pretty. But they will touch your hair. “f**k, no.” Of course, they would, moron.
I turned on the faucet and splashed my face. What was I thinking? Someone would touch and cut my hair if I went to the salon. What was I expecting? Make them invincible? Even if I closed my eyes, my brain already knew there was someone physically touching my hair. And they were going to cut it. The only difference was they would arrange it perfectly, not make me bald.
I couldn’t do it. At least, not now.
I went back to the room and opened my locker. I grabbed my phone and dialed my mother. “Hi, baby girl. How are you?” she soon answered.
“Hey, Mom. I’m doing great. What about you?”
“Great! What’s wrong?”
“Um, will you be at home tonight?”
“Where do you think I will go?” she sarcastically asked. I giggled. Of course, Mom wouldn’t go anywhere. She was a full-time wife. Her beasty husband didn’t let her do any work. Adorable, but if I were in Mom’s position, I would say that was completely unreasonable and stupid.
“My hair has lost its prime time,” I told her. It already did five years ago.
“Then, you should come over. Besides, it’d been months since the last time you were here.”
“I was there the last time you cut my hair.”
“That was four months ago, lady. I miss my daughter. Come over, Rachel. I will ask Lucas to pick you up.”
“No, Mom, that’s okay. I will be there myself. I’m working today.”
“Then, you should be fine. Lucas is working, too. And he’s closer. I don’t think your brother would agree that you’re coming home without a chaperone. Or…do you want me to collect you instead?”
I dryly chuckled. “Mom, you won’t make it,” I teased.
“Excuse me?” Mom scolded and laughed at the same time.
“I will see you soon, then.”
“Sure! I’ll cook your favorite tonight.”
“Awesome. Thanks, Mom,” I ended the call. Shaking my head while looking at the screen, I smiled. My mother would never change. She was just as stubborn as I was. No wonder sometimes she clashed with my father. “Okay,” I exhaled and walked out of the staff room, continuing my day.
Many people had asked me why I was working here. I was the daughter of Ricardo Williams. He had a ton of offices across America I could easily apply to one of them to earn more cash. Or better yet, I didn’t have to work because Daddy would be there to support me financially, at least, until I settled down. Some people who liked money more than anything else would only look at me in disgust because I was working at a place they considered low. I didn’t care. I hated those people anyway. Even Dad approved.
The thing was I had nothing else to do and I refused to rely on my father. My mother’s independency went straight into my DNA. I was lucky my parents never questioned my decision. Besides, Aunt Eva used to work here until Uncle James finally convinced her to continue with her dream. She wanted to be a writer, but an unexpected event happened, so she had to stall her journey. She even quit college—all for Cameron. I couldn’t believe he had a mother as sweet as Aunt Eva, yet he became the contrast to her. Did she silently ask a son to be the same as Uncle James? Oh, please don’t. For twenty-one years, Uncle James was so nice. At least, to me. But he was cool to all kids. Lucas, Mackenzie, Knox, and even his boys. What the heck happened to Cameron? Because of me? What did I do?
“A latte and a smile, please,” the patron said. A smile? I blinked, lifted my head, and was about to ask his order again, only to stop. Coming face to face with the exact replica of my father.
“Lucas.”
“Hi, Rach.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Mom called. Said I have to collect you home. Otherwise, I won’t be welcomed in their house.”
“Mom would never kick you, Luke,” I said while rolling my eyes.
“No, she wouldn’t. Dad would.”
“Where is he this time?”
“Probably on the plane from Ibiza now.” Oh, he was in Spain this time.
“So, it will be a full house tonight?”
“Yep. Oh, Mom was right. I can already see how long your hair is now,” he commented. I smiled. “You’re working again tomorrow, right?”
“I am. I start in the morning.”
“Why don’t you stay at our parents’ house tonight? I’ll take you back here.”
“You won’t mind.”
“Everything for my baby sister,” he winked.
“Charmer.”
“I got the smiler for free. One latte, then.” I giggled and put in his order.
“Anything else?”
“Nope. I don’t want to spoil my stomach. I’m dying for Mom’s cook.” Yep. Nothing beat her. Aunt Eva’s cook was excellent, too, but nothing compared to our mother’s cooking.
“Hi, Lucas,” Zara greeted my brother behind me.
“Hi, Zara. How are you today?”
“Good, good. Came here to pick up your sister?”
“I am. We’re going to have a nice dinner with our parents.”
“That’s nice,” she…plainly said. Oh, s**t.
“Um, Zara? Could you make the latte for Lucas?”
“Yeah, sure,” she said and walked away.
Sinking my teeth, I faced my brother again. “I don’t think you should mention parents in front of Zara,” I advised.
“Why?” he asked, clueless.
“They never spoke again.”
“f*****g hell. Why, because of her…orientation?” he whispered the word orientation. I looked back and saw Zara still busy making Lucas’ latte. Turning back to my brother, I nodded. “f**k…”
“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know. But you have to be careful next time.”
I will do so. Oh, what’s her favorite drink?” I smiled at his question. That would absolutely enlighten her.
“Flat white.”
“Put it on my tab and give it to her, will you? Consider it an apology.”
“I will certainly do so. Thank you, Lucas.”
Lucas went to a table near the bar. Zara was glad with Lucas’ treat. I spent the rest of my shift until it was time to close. Lucas helped us arrange the chairs. Once we were done, I locked the door and parted with Zara. Tomorrow was my turn to open the shop. I went to Lucas’ shining blue Corvette. I still couldn’t believe he chose that color. I knew it was a sports car. Brighter the better. Lucas’ words, not mine.
“Can I still convince you to let me buy you a car, little sister?” Lucas asked.
“I don’t need one.”
“Yes, you do. It will make it easier for you to drive anywhere you want.”
“Maybe, but I don’t need it.”
“I can buy you a cheaper one,” he still insisted.
I rolled my eyes. “Your cheaper is around thirty grand, Lucas. So, no.” Lucas laughed and roamed his baby to our parents’. They lived in Brooklyn. Dad purchased the house soon after Lucas was born. It was our childhood home. The start of our miserable days because his words could never be forgotten when he came to visit us in our house.
The second you can walk, talk, and think, you are my doll, Dolly.
- Writer
