Cooper West - Mixed Signals, New folder 1

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Mixed Signals |
Cooper West
2
Mixed Signala
M
ARIE
, the girl at the front desk, tittered when Frank walked
into the salon. She knew him and knew her chances with
him were nil, but that did not stop her. It never stopped
anyone.
―Mr. Sheldon! Welcome back!‖ She grinned ear to ear
and Frank gave her one of his typical friendly smirks that
everyone fell for and yet did not imply ―invitation.‖ He
learned young how to keep his distance.
―Didn‘t forget me?‖
―Oh, never!‖ She tittered again, then pouted. ―But Jane
got tied up in a really complicated highlights job and is
running late.‖
―That‘s fine. Let her know I‘m here. I‘ll wait.‖ He tugged
at his unruly mop of hair. ―This needs mowing.‖
―Oh, Mr. Sheldon!‖ She gave him a sappy smile and ran
off to the back.
Sighing, Frank sat down. His looks could get him
bumped to the head of any line, but he did not want to
pressure his hairstylist by walking back there and laying on
the charm. He just needed a haircut, and he was not on duty
at LifeFlight until eight that night, so he could wait.
He liked the midtown salon because it did not have any
pretensions about being a ―day spa‖ or ―wellness center.‖ It
had the kind of friendly vibe that was lacking in all the
upscale salons of his youth but was classy enough to hire
Mixed Signals |
Cooper West
3
knowledgeable and experienced stylists. Frank had been
using Jane for nearly two years now, and he was a creature
of habit anyway.
―Dammit.‖
Frank looked over at the guy on the bench with him. He
was stocky and a little unkempt in wrinkled khakis and a
rumpled polo with coffee stains down the front. He was
glaring at his laptop, and Frank assumed that was what had
caused the cursing. The guy, who had a curly head of nearly
black hair that was chopped and ragged, started punching
the keyboard with extreme prejudice, so Frank held his
peace. The guy screamed ―geektastic‖ anyway, and Frank
knew all too well how poorly socialized that subgenus was in
general. Instead, Frank flipped through the pile of fashion
magazines, hoping against hope for an old copy of
GQ
.
―Okay, yeah—no, that‘s not working for me. Think for
yourselves, people….‖
Frank looked over again to find the guy was now
frowning at his laptop. It was impossible to tell if he was
younger or a
lot
younger than Frank, because he had the
soft, pale physique of a lab rat, a type Frank knew intimately
and biblically; ―soft‖ was the only reason he ever slept with
women, and his last boyfriend had been a cushy biotech
engineer with really, really gentle hands. So he only had
himself to blame for trying to strike up a conversation.
―Bad day?‖ he asked, keeping his body language neutral
because he was not ready to admit to himself that he was
hitting on a coffee-stained, hair-challenged geek in the lobby
of his favorite salon. The jokes wrote themselves, he thought
as he cringed inwardly.
Mixed Signals |
Cooper West
4
The guy looked up at him with a surprised expression,
clearly noting Frank‘s presence for the first time. Frank took
the blow to his ego with grace, he thought, at least until the
guy spoke.
―You‘re already pretty. Why are you here?‖
―Uh… thanks?‖ Frank squinted, trying to find a better
comeback, but the guy snorted and waved his free hand.
―Don‘t bother trying to be witty, you might hurt
yourself.‖
―Hey!‖
The guy sighed, closing his eyes and turning his face
towards the ceiling. It gave Frank a moment to gauge his age
better, and he was surprised to realize that he was probably
closer to Frank‘s age than he'd thought.
The guy sighed again and opened his eyes before
speaking. ―Sorry. So very sorry. Okay? Better now?‖
―Not really.‖ Frank turned toward the guy, crossed his
legs and arms simultaneously, and glared at him. ―This how
you usually make friends?‖
―I don‘t usually try to make friends with people like
you.‖
Frank bristled. ―Oh? People like me? And what kind of
people are those?‖ He knew his glare was intimidating,
because no one got out of a career as an officer in the
military without practicing being an asshole, but the guy
shrugged.
―Beautiful people. You know, with the hair… and the
clothes… and the, the…
pretty
.‖
Mixed Signals |
Cooper West
5
Frank blinked. ―The pretty.‖
―Yes, don‘t even pretend that you don‘t know what I
mean. Give me some credit.‖
Frank did know what he meant. Even in his mid-thirties
he could make people stop in the middle of the street just to
watch him walk, and he knew it. More than once Uncle
James the Hollywood almost-producer had told him to go
into acting; Frank preferred flying and said so, but no one in
his family took him seriously. The worst thing of all was that
his good looks were supposed to mean that he did not want
to do things like fly or have a career. His personality had
always been incidental to his looks, and the thing Frank
missed most about being in the Air Force was that being so
damn good-looking had been a handicap for a change.
―Yeah, okay.‖ Frank nodded, uncrossing his arms.
The guy stared at him. ―Really?‖
―Yeah?‖
―Okay then.‖ The guy paused, studying Frank closely.
―Just, you know, people like you are usually… humble about
it. ‗Oh no, I‘m totally average!‘‖ the guy falsettoed with a fair
imitation of the salon‘s front desk girl.
Frank laughed. ―Not my style.‖
―Oh. Okay. That‘s… new.‖ Then the guy‘s laptop made
an annoying pinging sound, making him focus back on the
screen again. Frank realized that he did not really exist in
the guy‘s world anymore… which kind of disappointed him.
―Hey, what‘s your name?‖
―What? Who?‖ The guy looked up, confused.
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Cooper West - Mixed Signals, New folder 1

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