The Maverick Pride Tales - Chapter 71: Chapter 71

Gretchen skipped into the salon tucking in her shirt and patting down her hair. That last goodbye kiss had left her a little disheveled. Smiling brightly, Gretchen turned to greet her two o’clock appointment.
The tall, skinny she-Tiger blinked slowly at Gretchen. She stared with hostility shining in her almond shaped eyes, glowing gold with her animal. Like Gretchen was so much dirt on her shoe. Tapping her red fingernails on her watch, she pursed her lips.
Gretchen glanced at the clock pointedly. It was two minutes after the hour. Not a big deal at all, but still, she was a professional, and it was her place of business. She plastered a smile on her face and apologized for her tardiness.
“Hi, you must be Pamela. Welcome to Cut It Out. I’m Gretchen⁠—”
“You’re late for my appointment,” the she-Cat interrupted. “I hope you’re better at cutting hair than you are at telling time.”
“I do apologize. Why don’t we get started? This way please,” Gretchen waved her hand in the direction of the sinks and followed the woman as she walked over to the shampoo station.
Pamela Brown was a first-class beyotch, and Gretchen waited as the woman huffed out an annoyed breath and slunk down into the chair. It took two full pumps of shampoo, and three of conditioner to get the product out of the woman’s over-processed locks.
So far, Gretchen had encountered several Shifters as clients, and they all had one thing in common. They were healthy AF, meaning their hair was often glossy and thick, and there was a shit ton of it.
But not hers. Pamela’s hair, like her skin, seemed dull and gray. She was painfully thin, and that sullen, angry expression did nothing to enhance her looks or her attitude.
“I hate tardiness,” Pamela bit out as she slunk into the seat at Gretchen’s station.
“I am sorry,” Gretchen replied through tight lips.
Her nose itched, and she wondered at the perfume the woman was wearing. Ever since she’d experienced the Puspa, Gretchen hadn’t been able to wear any strong scents.
She’d attributed it to her brand new, extra-sensitive nose. But the female here was born a Shifter, and she was practically drowning in some cheap rose-scented fragrance.
It was cloying. Almost suffocating. Gretchen turned her head and sneezed into her elbow. Her body telling her to get away from the nasty woman.
“Oh, excuse me,” she said, a little embarrassed.
“Ohmygawd! Let’s just get on with this before I catch something,” the she-Bitch muttered.
Gretchen bit her tongue. Marion was between clients at the moment, and he was watching the byplay without any amusement. It bolstered her confidence to know he was there and witnessing everything that was going on. She didn’t need any nonsense cropping up because of this woman.
Some clients were just plain rude, she knew that having worked in this business over twelve years already. She shook her head at Marion before he could even think of interfering. It was good he was there, but she had this. Gretchen could handle herself just fine.
“Alright, so what did you have in mind for today?” Gretchen asked as she began running a comb through the woman’s tangles as gently as possible. Not an easy feat.
Holy flashback to 1984 and hairspray hell!
The amount of product she’d washed out of Pamela’s poor abused locks had been shocking, but that only eliminated half the problem with this woman’s hair. Gretchen didn’t know anyone who teased their hair anymore who was under sixty. Apparently, this woman didn’t get the memo.
“Well, I need a trim obviously,” she replied, that same waspish edge to her tone. “Then I’d like it blown out.”
“Alright,” Gretchen replied as pleasantly as possible and got to work.
The quicker she finished, the quicker the skinny woman could get the heck out of her store. Maybe she should start offering snacks while people waited?
In her opinion, hungry people were nasty people, and this woman was very thin. Not just thin, she looked emaciated, unhealthy, and her skin had a yellowish tint to it. Definitely not the way the Shifters Gretchen had already met looked.
We can bite her in two, her Tiger suggested.
Gretchen wanted to laugh but bit her tongue and tucked away the suggestion for later.
“Well, I’m surprised someone like you has managed to catch Reg’s interest,” Pamela remarked, fishing for gossip.
“Oh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I am just pointing out the obvious,” she replied and eyed Gretchen’s fuller frame as if that said everything.
“Ow!” shocked eyes looked up at Gretchen who shrugged.
“Sorry,” she said, and didn’t mean it. Gretchen had always been a no nonsense woman and she sure as fuck was not sugarcoating things for this mean-spirited woman. “Pamela, I have to be real here, you have a lot of knots, and some serious damage to your hair due to over-processing. If you want it to be healthy, I am going to have to take off more than a trim,” Gretchen said.
“What? Are you sure?” Pamela asked, clearly shocked and worried. She looked at Gretchen warily. “You do have good hair,” the woman said. “Okay, you can cut my hair, but before you do, look, I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I just meant that you know how men are. They’re all a bunch of players and Shifters are worse than humans.”
For a moment, Pamela looked vulnerable and a little beaten, truth be told. As if life had been very hard on the female.
Gretchen still didn’t exactly trust Pamela, but in the spirit of female solidarity, she felt herself softening towards her. The other she-Tiger was very pretty underneath all the paint and hair spray. Maybe she’d been used before. Maybe it left her angry and bitter.
It wasn’t Gretchen’s problem, but she could try and help. Too often did women pit themselves against other women. Gretchen was so over the whole all women were in competition with each other cliché.
She might not be ready to share her deepest fears with the woman, but she could help her with her hair for one thing. It wasn’t all bad. Pamela simply used too many harsh products for her locks to be healthy.
In fact, everything about Pamela seemed overdone. Her makeup was thick and unflattering under the lights of the salon. It added a sharpness to her that was hard and cold, not very appealing to Gretchen.
“True, men can be pigs. But Reg is a good guy,” Gretchen said.
Her Tiger hissed at the idea of anyone thinking or speaking badly about him. She soothed the beast by sticking up for him.
Good mate.
“Yeah, well, he certainly made his way through the Pride, breaking hearts. Even had a crush on Jessica before she hooked up with Brayden.”
Gretchen’s heart pounded inside her chest. Was that true? She’d come to think of Jessica as a friend, but the woman had never mentioned anything between her and Reg. Her Tiger snarled as anger and jealousy threatened to overwhelm her.
“Shifters are all the same. Love ‘em and leave ‘em, you know? Get a female to pop out a few cubs then it was out the door to thinner, younger pastures, if you catch my meaning,” Pamela said, her eyes unfocused.
“Well, what about Elissa and Hunter?” Gretchen replied, clinging to the one couple she knew were inseparable.
“Oh, but that’s different, isn’t it? He is the Neta. He needs his mate at his side to rule. Of course, he should have picked from his own Pride, but she went through the Puspa, so that part is fine for now. It’s all in our laws, the ones the Shifter Council rules by,” she told a wide eyed Gretchen, shrugging as if that explained everything.
“I suppose.”
“The rest of these males are just a bunch of tomcats. Strutting around and sampling a new female every other month. Of course, for females it’s different. We need a man during our heat to breed, but other than that we can do as we wish. Why, some females even share a male between them! It’s not uncommon for either sex to have multiple partners.”
“And what about mates?”
“Oh, well, when you’re hooking up, you’re considered mates, but nothing lasts forever, does it? Mates don’t always work out…,” she replied trailing off at the end.
Gretchen swallowed audibly at that little tidbit, missing the harsh expression on the other woman’s face. She cut and styled Pamela’s tawny-colored locks, pushing her thoughts aside and concentrating on her work. This was not the time nor the place.
There were too many people, and besides, she shouldn’t be having this talk with a stranger. So, Gretchen kept on working without missing a beat, losing herself in the familiarity of her chosen profession.
There was just something about hair that she loved. So many different colors, textures, and styles to work with. She sometimes felt like an artist, but instead of paints and brushes she used scissors and hair as her medium. Some of her up-do styles had even been featured in a few hair magazines and blogs.
Gretchen was more than content with her life’s choices in so far as her career. Being a hair stylist was something she loved and excelled at. And now she was able to challenge herself even further by running her own salon. It was her dream come true. Professionally speaking.
Her personal life was another story. She’d expected to be married with kids by the time she’d hit thirty, but her last birthday had come and gone already. She’d never even had a serious boyfriend before.
Gretchen certainly enjoyed the opposite sex. The act itself had always been attractive to her, but she’d hardly had any success at it.
Until Reg.
The men she knew before him simply fell short of her expectations. The way things were going, she would have gladly considered Reggie her first real relationship. Him turning her into an actual furry and stripey Tiger wasn’t something she’d expected.
Hell. She hadn’t even known it was possible. She’d thought it made the two of them special, but maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe he was just another tomcat like Pamela said.
“All finished,” Gretchen said quietly.
Her mood already deflated, Gretchen’s heart was slowly breaking, and she wanted to throw her head back and yowl at the whole dang world. She looked at the woman in front of her without really seeing.
“Finally,” the female murmured, crossing her arms over her chest.
Gretchen turned Pamela’s chair around to face the mirror and waited blandly for her reaction. She had other things on her mind, and the way the woman received her new hairstyle was of little importance to her.
Though she did do a hell of a job cutting off the split ends and taming the unruly mess into a sleeker and more sophisticated cut that flattered her sharp features. Not that she deserved such treatment, Gretchen thought darkly.
The other she-Cat had spent thirty-minutes badmouthing the men of the Pride and dumping on every single hidden hope Gretchen had held for the future. Her head was positively spinning.
She might as well face the facts. Gretchen didn’t know a damn thing about Shifters. Only bits and pieces she’d picked up here or there, tidbits dropped in passing by Reg, or Elissa, and now the bitchy Pamela. Couldn’t someone just sit her down and tell her the whole damn truth of it all? She wanted to know everything. And she wanted to know now, dammit!
Ugh.
So far, the things she did know were not very promising. She’d told herself just that afternoon that things with Reg might not be permanent, but she sure did hope so. Only now, she wasn’t so confident.
“It’s a little short, but I guess it’s okay.” Pamela fingered her hair and squinted in the mirror. “Anyway, you just think about what I said. You might want to get out of Maverick Point while you can. Clingy exes just aren’t attractive.”
She dropped a fifty on the counter and walked out. Considering the cut and dry was $48, the bitch had shorted Gretchen on the tip.
Figured.
Still, the skinny Tiger had done a number on her. She left Gretchen feeling all shook up inside and not in a good golden flow after sexy times way.
“Boss lady, I don’t know what Little Miss Thang over there was whispering to you, but you should know she stood outside glaring at your man’s car for like five-minutes before she stepped foot in here,” Marion told her. His pink polished hands sat on his slim hips as he addressed Gretchen.
She could tell he was only getting started. Her new hire had decided off the bat that the two of them were going to be pals, and where Gretchen was very fond of the flashy, outspoken, and openly bisexual stylist, a scolding wasn’t what she needed right now.
Sigh.
“So, what does that prove?” Gretchen returned distractedly.
“It proves you need to take what that skinny beyotch says with a grain of iodized salt, because I know she ain’t kosher,” he replied and narrowed his eyes.
“Marion!” Gretchen gasped and laughed. She looked around to make sure the other clients were either distracted or busy.
“What? Think about it, Gretch. Clearly, she has an axe to grind, and it don’t have nothing to do with you and your man. Listen sunshine, you can’t let other people rain on your parade. Whatever she told you, talk to your man before you just go off and take it as gospel,” he told her sagely, nodding his spikey head to emphasize his point.
“Thank you for your opinion, Mar. I appreciate you, but I need to work this out on my own.”
Gretchen muddled through the rest of the day. Smiling took its toll, and by the time she closed the doors for the evening her face actually hurt. She felt emotionally raw and unsettled. It was a nasty, uneasy, grating feeling, but there was nothing she could do about it.
She needed to think. But she couldn’t do that around Reg. When he was near there was only one thing she wanted, and it pained her to know she couldn’t have it for keeps. She closed her eyes on a wave of sorrow and tried to keep her tears at bay.
Him. I want him. Forever.
Mate, her Tiger insisted, but Gretchen rejected the word.
According to Pamela it didn’t mean anything special.
Grrr, her Tiger grumbled at the other woman’s name, but again Gretchen ignored her beast.
She needed to call Reg to tell him to stay away, maybe then this feeling she had of being trapped in her own emotions would lessen.
She needed clarity, but she would only find that on her own.