you don’t need anyone. You need me.” She lost her teasing edge. “Here’s the deal. I need the job. I really need the benefits. Because you know, they’re awesome. Like me, remember?”
“How do you know these details?” He crossed his arms over his chest but she wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.
“Your accent comes out when you get imperious. Did you know that?”
He managed to suppress one of the annoyed sounds he’d learned from his mother as he’d grown up.
Barely.
“Mrs. Orlova told me about the benefits cooperative you and several other businesses share and that are available to the folks who work out of Whiskey Sharp. She also said she’d let you know I was coming.”
“We don’t really have an opening. I was just spitballing, as you say. She overheard me.” Which was nicer than saying his aunt had been eavesdropping.
“You don’t have a single female barber here. That’s lame.” She arched a brow at him. Again, he opened and closed his mouth, caught between curiosity and surprise.
“I can ask around to see if anyone I know is looking for someone.” There. He’d help her for his aunt without hiring her.
“Is it a purposeful thing?”
“What?”
She cocked her head—she did that a lot—as she gestured at the shop. “No women here. Is that on purpose and design? To say hey dudes, this is a space just for us? And whatever, as cliché as an idea as that might be, I get it. I was just under the impression you wanted a shop with excellent barbers.”
Just at his back, he heard one of his barbers snicker.
“Look, I need a job. You need me here,” she repeated.
“Why?”
She frowned but her bottom lip still looked really good. “So is this your thing? Your answers all being why or what?”
Alexsei only barely refrained from glancing around for an avenue of escape. He hadn’t failed to notice that no one had appeared to save him, the cowards.
“Why do you want to work here? At my shop?”
“It’s near my sister’s apprenticeship. Why don’t you let me show you what I can do? I’ll give a cut and a shave. Check my work yourself.”
It was the tone of her voice when she’d brought up the detail about her sister that had done it. Maybe was a curious creature, but the steel in her voice told him she put her family obligations first and he respected that. Coupled with the way his aunt had sent her his way, he figured maybe an audition of sorts might be all right.
If she did a good job he could toss her some work. Perhaps.
“Come back tomorrow morning at ten. You can show me what you’ve got then.” He scowled at her but she flashed him a grin, heading toward the door.
“Thank you!” She dashed out without another word.
“What the hell was that?” Stu asked as Alexsei went to the coatrack near the front door.
“Trouble, most likely.” He shrugged. “We’ll see how she does tomorrow.” Contrary to her question about the lack of women in his shop, it wasn’t by design. It just had worked out that way. Yes, in some barbershops, the absence of women was on purpose. Sometimes because of outrageous sexism—more than he liked—other times a sense of tradition had rendered a shop as more of a club for men. Neither was his style.
Strong women were the foundation on which the life he lived was built. He loved and respected them. Feared some of them too. Including his aunt. He needed to go talk with her about this. He could call, but she’d see it as disrespect given that she was just a five-minute walk away.
“I’ve got forty minutes until my next client. I’m going to drop over to the bakery, but I’ll be back in time,” he called as he left.
Orlov Family Bakery had been a safe place for him for the entire time he’d lived in the United States. The front windows were slightly steamed and when he stepped inside it was to be greeted by the scent of everything wonderful. Bread, cookies and cakes, spiced with black tea and fruit.
There was a line, but he skipped around it and headed to the kitchen, where he knew his aunt would be working.
“Good morning to you, Irishka.” He kissed her cheek.
She snorted at his use of the diminutive of her name, but he won a smile from her. “You’re here because of the girl.” Irena kneaded the dough with workstrong arms as she looked him over.
His aunt had been as much a mother to him as his own had been. More, if he was to be brutally honest about it.
“So tell me why you sent the very talkative Ms. Dolan to my shop.”
“Have a cup of tea while I tell you. With a slice of sharlotka. You need to keep your energy for the rest of the day.” She ordered this without even looking up, totally assured he would obey.
And why wouldn’t he? He poured himself a cup of tea but skipped the apple cake she’d suggested for some pyraniki instead.
“She and her sister moved in to the house next door to ours about a month ago. They’re lovely. Her sister, she’s older than Maybe, was in the hospital for quite a long time recovering from something terrible to do with her old job. She used to flinch if we came outside when she was in her yard. Or if she came home and we were in the driveway. She doesn’t flinch anymore.”
Alexsei frowned before finishing the rest of his cookie.
“You said to me this shop of yours was already booked every day and you wanted to add another person. Here she is. Maybe—a silly name for a child—is a hard worker. You can tell this from how the house is kept. So I sent her your way.”
He had a very difficult time imagining her in a home that his aunt would be impressed by. His aunt liked a very clean, orderly house and he would have thought Maybe would live in a place full of piles of colorful clothing and stacks of paper.
“It’s simple enough. Give her a job.” She made a sound that told him the conversation was over.
He wasn’t going to argue. It would have been pointless anyway. “Thank you for the tea.” Alexsei washed out his mug, placing it back on the shelf where he kept it for his frequent visits to her kitchen. “I’ll let you know how she works out.”
“Take some food back to your shop.” She shooed him with a wave of her hand toward the big butcher-block table in the center of the room.
Now
MAYBE STROLLED IN, waving to Josh and Alexsei, who were leisurely setting up for the day. Interpol played over the speakers. A band she’d forever associate with her boss. And friend.
Impossible
