Somewhere in His Arms (42 page)

             
'That'll work too.”

             
“What'll you give me if I win?”

             
“Beat me and find out, English!”

             
“I just might do that,” he chuckled.

             
They drove home and Lucy beat him so badly that Alec swore off the game and threatened to tickle her if she ever told anyone. “You're being silly!” she said and her eyes widened as her husband rose from his chair with an evil gleam in his eye. “You wouldn't dare!”

             
“Come here, wife and take your medicine!”

             
She backed away slowly. “Now Alec, be nice. I can't help it if I have a large vocabulary. I'm an awful bookworm!”

             
“That may be so,” he said with a leering grin, “but you're still getting tickled.”

             
Giggling, she tried to get away, and made a mad dash for the bedroom. But she wasn't fast enough for her husband who caught her, tossed her on the bed, and proceeded to tickle her mercilessly. “Give up?”

             
“Never!” she gasped through tears of laughter.

             
He tickled her some more until they were both exhausted. Alec rested his head on her chest and felt her hand running through his hair. Then he stretched out beside her and held her close, listening to the reassuring beat of her heart.

              The cast finally came off much to Lucy's relief, and Alec wanted to take her out to dinner to celebrate. She'd didn't have much in the way of dresses and had to go out and buy one. While she was at it, she decided she might as well chop off her hair too. Alec was dead set against it.

             
“I like your hair the way it is,” he insisted as he drove her along Rodeo Drive. “I like running my hands through it.”

             
Lucy picked up a limp strand and eyed it dubiously. “It's a hassle and I'm too tired to mess with it in the morning. Don't worry, I won't shave it all off!”

             
“Shave
it?” he repeated in horror. “You wouldn't dare!”

             
“I don't know what I'm going to do with it. I'll leave that to Marco.”

             
He stopped at a red light, observing the lunchtime crowd of bored housewives teetering along on designer heels. “How can they walk in those stilts?” he grumbled. “How is that humanly possible?” One middle-aged woman in skinny jeans dropped her shopping bag and nearly fell onto her plastic face, balancing on one vertiginous heel to retrieve it.

             
Nothing had changed much since Lucy was kid. Everything was much the same since the days when Vivian used to drag her up and down these streets, tossing her father's hard-earned money away. “It takes a lot of practice,” she told him, trying to scrub the memory away from her mind.

             
The light changed and Alec turned onto the next street. “So, who's
this
Marco anyway?”

             
“He used to cut Viv's hair,” she said. “But they had a falling out a few years ago.”

             
“Oh? What happened?”

             
“I can't remember what he said exactly, but I think it had something to do with him reminding her that her roots needed a touch-up.”

             
“Why'd she get bent over that?”

             
“He said it at a dinner party in front of over a hundred guests!”

             
“Ouch!”

             
Lucy laughed at the memory of Vivian shrieking in a high rage and chasing down poor Marco, all the while flinging her best champagne goblets at his bleached blonde head.  “You should have seen her face!”

             
“I wish I could have seen that.” He pulled up in front of the salon and idled the engine. Alec took out his credit card. “Here, love.”

             
“Oh no,” she cried in dismay, feeling bad about taking his money even though they were married. “I have some... money.”

             
He made a face and pushed the card into her hand and closed her fingers over it. “I insist.”

             
“But---!”

             
“Don't argue with me woman!” He unbuckled her and opened her door. “Go splurge on yourself. You've earned it.”

             
Lucy clasped the card in her hand, still uncertain. “You're sure?”

             
He groaned in frustration. “Look at it!” he ordered.

             
“Huh?” She did as he asked and looked at the card. Her married name was printed neatly on it. “M-Mine?”

             
Alec gave her a quick kiss and nudged her out gently. “Go buy something expensive!”

             
She clambered out and stood on the curb. “Where will you be?”

             
“There’re a few things I've got to do. I'll be back in an hour.”
              “Alec, you are
not
going back there!” she protested. “What if he won't see you?”

             
He shrugged. “This is the last time I'm going to ask. After that he's on his own.”

             
The car door shut and she called out to him as he revved the engine. “Stay away from tall trees!”

             
Her husband laughed and waved goodbye and Lucy was left standing in the mid-afternoon sunshine. She let out a breath, tucked the card into her jean pocket, and went inside.

             
It had been ten years since she last stepped into Marco's immaculate salon. This was the sort of place where you just didn't make an appointment. There was a waiting list and t
hey
called
you.
If she hadn’t played the Vivian’s stepdaughter card, she might have had to wait till doomsday.

             
Lucy felt out of place in her faded jeans, boat neck top, and cheap espadrilles she'd bought off a clearance rack. Her hair she'd tied back in a scarf and she wore not a scrap of makeup. Now she knew how Julia Roberts felt in
Pretty Woman.

             
“Excuse me,” came a female voice oozing with disdain. “Can I
help...
you?”

             
“Um, I have an appointment with Marco,” she told the cool blonde who eyed Lucy as if she were some bag lady who wandered in from the street.

             
The blonde flipped her hair back with a finely manicured hand and said icily, “Oh, really?”

             
“Yes,
really!”
Lucy said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest, and wondering why she didn't have the good sense to go to the five-dollar salon like normal people. At least they didn't stare you down like you were a member of a rodent infestation. “Where
is
Marco?” she demanded, striving for Vivian's haughty demeanor and failing miserably no doubt, from the look of the resulting smirk that curved the woman's crimson mouth.

             
“I'll get him, “ she sneered and sashayed off like a runway model.

             
Muttering under her breath, Lucy surveyed the Art Deco theme of the salon. It was tastefully decorated in rich reds and blacks with parquet flooring. There were several women getting their usual weekly maintenance of manicures and blowouts. She thought she recognized a well-known actress and the girl caught Lucy's eye and gave her a dressing- down with just her eyes.

             
A cold lump settled in Lucy's throat. This had been a bad idea. She turned to leave when she was stopped by Marco's high-pitched voice. “Lucy girl, is
that
you?” he said in disbelief, nearly running towards her.

             
“Hey, little man,” she said, tossing her old nickname for him at his head. “It's me.

             
He held her at arm's length to get a good look at her and frowned when he saw her tears. “Why are you crying? Has someone upset my girl?”

             
“Well,” she said, feeling foolish at having let that woman get to her, “I shouldn't be here.”

             
Marco clicked his tongue in dismay and hugged her, enveloping Lucy in a comforting cloud of expensive cologne. “Nonsense!” he protested and steered her toward a chair. He urged her to sit and had an assistant bring her a glass of wine. “Did Toni say something to you? If she did, I'll rip her hair out by the roots!”

             
“Well, I'm not exactly dressed for the occasion,” she said and sipped the rose'.

             
“Honey, please!” he said with an exaggerated eye-roll. “You put Angelina to shame!”

             
“I wouldn't go that far,” she laughed, touching the scar on her forehead self-consciously. She glanced at Marco who hadn't noticed or if he had, was too polite to mention it. Lucy smiled at his reflection in the mirror. He exuded the outgoing confidence of a Hollywood fashionista with the spiky bleached blonde 'do, but he'd added a goatee in a darker shade. Diamond studs winked from his earlobes, and he was wearing a black leather vest over a crisp white shirt and bright red skinny jeans. “I want to cut my hair,” she confessed finally.

             
He gasped in horror and smoothed the silky locks. “That's criminal! Your hair is so gorgeous I'm jelly.”

             
“It's a pain to manage. I was thinking an inch or two since my husband will kill me if I whack it all off!”

             
“You're married?”

             
Lucy nodded shyly.

             
“Details!” he said and whipped out a cape and draped it around her. “How long have you known
this
Prince Charming?”

             
“ A few months.”

             
“Months?”

             
“It was all so sudden.”

             
“They always are,” he sniffed in dismay. “I'm
all
alone!”

             
“I'm sure there are plenty of guys just waiting for you to sweep them off their feet.”

             
“In
this
town?” he said, grimacing in disgust. “They're either married; gay and don't know it; gay and want to hide it; or into girls and want to try on another size and decide they don't like the fit, so they pay some little man to make it all go away!” Marco winced at that memory. “And you know me, I'm very sensitive.”

             
“It's hard finding someone who isn't in the business.” Marco tilted her head from side to side to get a better view of what he was working with. “Maybe you should find yourself a librarian or something.”

             
Marco bristled at the suggestion. “I have standards, missy! I want excitement not a coma!”

             
They both laughed and Lucy sat up straight. “Well? Can you make me gorgeous?”

             
Marco grinned at her in the mirror. “He'll drop dead when he sees you.”

             
“Let's not go that far,” she said in mock horror. “Maybe a little color or something? I'm so pale.”

             
“Leave everything to me, honey!” he promised. “You'll look like a star when I'm through with you!”

              She sat under the dryer thumbing through last year's fashion must-haves, wondering how anyone with any sense or good taste for that matter, would want to pay good money for a gown that resembled something that looked like it came out of a wood chipper.

             
A glance at her watch informed her that she'd been here nearly four hours! Alec had popped in earlier and seeing his wife's hair standing on end wrapped in foil, had decided he was better off not knowing.

             
Lucy laughed at the way Marco had drooled over her husband. “Where'd you find him? He's yummy!”

             
“Isn't he?” she sighed dreamily. “I won him in Vegas!”

             
Marco clucked approvingly. “Better not let
her
see him.”

             
“Have you seen
her
lately?” Lucy asked, not really interested but making small talk.

             
Marco turned a delightful shade of puke green. “Don't ask! I haven't seen her since the Emmy after-party. She was wearing what's-his-face, Dragon.”