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  I rolled my eyes at him, and said, “Gee, thanks, and I’ll keep my eye out for any sweaty cage fights.”

  “And let me know if you do, honey, because I’m coming with,” said Brian.

  “Well, you should be happy to know that I am going out tonight with Marissa. We’re picking Brody up from the airport and then after he drops his stuff off at the loft we are all going out to celebrate.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot your hot-as-hell doctor brother was moving to town. I swear, you two have got sexiness pouring out of your genes,” Brian said. “You should wear that black and silver beaded halter dress of yours.” Brian needed a serious hobby if he remembered a dress I had worn one time eight months ago.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because that halter dips low in the back and shows off your legs. Your tattoos would pop, and you’d look sick as hell in it.” I had a lot of tattoos, and even though I was proud of them and didn’t care what people thought, I never wore anything revealing enough to show them off. Only my arms were ever really visible.

  “Well, thank you very much, but I think what I have on is fine,” I said, pulling at my Ramones tee that fit snug in all the right places. It was short in the arms, and the bottom was slightly higher than my waistband on my jeans, so my stomach showed a bit there too.

  Brian playfully shook his head, and said, “Whatever, girl. Ugh, such a waste.” I sighed and after setting my bag down in the break room, I went to the dispensary and grabbed the color, developer, bowls and brushes I needed for my first client. Mrs. Vivian Tanner was a very rich, very established, and very well connected lady from Manhattan that I had met three years before. At that time, my hair was still its usual shade of red, and I had lots of light brown and blonde chunky highlights through it. I was stopping in at Starbucks to get a vanilla latte when she stopped me and told me how beautiful my hair was. I thanked her, and when she asked me where I got it done, I confidently told her I did it myself. She was so impressed that she wanted my card, and promised to make an appointment with me. She said anyone that can make their own hair look like that would work miracles with hers. Since that day, she’s been coming to me every six weeks like clockwork. And, every single time without fail, she tries to set me up with her son. I tried to tell her I wasn’t interested in dating anyone, but she never let up. I knew she meant well, but it was getting frustrating.

  I mixed her color, and had just set the bowls at my station when Samantha informed me that Mrs. Tanner was here. I walked into the lobby, and there she sat in her Oscar de la Renta pants suit, Manolo Blanik heels, and holding her Louis Vitton bag. She stood when she saw me, flipped her shoulder length blonde hair over her shoulder, and after placing her iPhone in her bag, held her hands out to me. “Rory, dear, how lovely to see you again. You look adorable today,” she said, warmly, and air kissed both my cheeks. Despite her less than successful matchmaking skills, she was a great lady and I liked her a lot.

  “Thank you so much. It’s great to see you too, Mrs. Tanner,” I replied, leading her back through the curtain.

  “Darling, we’ve known each other three years. When are you going to finally start calling me Vivian?”

  “Eventually, I promise,” I smiled, and led her to my chair. “So, what’s new with you?” I asked, and wrapped a color cape around her neck. “You seem chipper today.”

  “Well, I’ve got exciting news. My son moved back to the city last month, can you believe it?” she said, beaming.

  Oh boy, here we go. “That’s great, I’m happy for you. I know you have missed him,” I answered. Mrs. Tanner’s son was a cop, and that very fact tore a huge rift in her family. Apparently her son and her husband had a falling out several years back over his decision on where to go to college and the fact that he wanted to be a cop and not a lawyer. He hadn’t been home since, not for a holiday or birthday, nothing at all.

  “I really have missed him. You know,” she said in a sly tone, “he is going to be living in Greenwich Village, where you live, and he really doesn’t know many people there. Maybe you could show him around,” she said, winking at me in the mirror.

  Playfully rolling my eyes, I looked at her and said, “Nice try, Mrs. Tanner. He was raised in the city, I’m sure he knows his way around.”

  She smiled warmly at me, saying, “You can’t blame me for trying. You are exactly his type, and you two would look beautiful together.” Yeah, sure we would. A tattooed rocker-chick-looking hair stylist getting together with a blue-blooded Ivy League frat boy that happened to carry a gun. And she was right; I really couldn’t blame her for trying. She was a sweet lady, and I knew she meant well, but her efforts were all for nothing. I made a promise to myself long ago that the romantic part of my life was over. After what happened with Mason, I was never, ever going to open myself up for that kind of pain again. I felt a tug at my heart, and my mind started to wander somewhere else…somewhere I tried desperately every day to stay away from. Thankfully, she interrupted wherever I was headed mentally, and said, “Anyway, enough about me. What’s new with you? I haven’t talked to you in a month and a half, tell me everything.”

  Over the next two hours coloring and cutting her hair, we talked about the mundane details of my life, including Brody’s move to the city. She very coyly suggested again that we should hang out together, this time in a group with Brody. Just a group of young people enjoying a night out was her story this time, but I had a sneaking suspicion that she was hell bent on making me her daughter-in-law, no matter what.

  Once I was done drying her hair and styling it with a round brush, I spun her around in the mirror so she could see the finished product. Her eyes lit up with joy. “Oh, Rory, darling, you’ve done it again. You are just brilliant. It looks gorgeous.”

  “Well, thanks, Mrs. Tanner. It was my pleasure.”

  “You are very, very welcome,” she said, and I handed her bag and jacket to her. She stood up from the chair, and we walked to the reception desk so I could check her out and set her next appointment. “So, what do I owe you?”

  I snickered when she asked that, because it didn’t matter what I charged her. She always paid the same thing, which was about ten times what the service cost. I’m pretty sure that if I saved all the money she’s paid me to do her hair for the last three years, I could have bought an expensive penthouse in Manhattan. “For the cut, color, and style, the total is two hundred ninety five dollars.” I know that seems expensive, but it is expensive to live in NYC, and unfortunately I didn’t set the prices of the salon. Brian did.

  “Okay, here you go, Rory,” she said, and handed me a check she already made out. I folded it, and placed it in my back pocket. There was no need to look at the amount. I knew it was going to be way too much, I would try to refuse it and she would insist I keep it, and it just wasn’t worth the argument.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Tanner. Would you like to set your next appointment?”

  “Oh, of course. Six weeks?”

  “Yes, and that would put us into June. Is the fourteenth at nine okay?”

  “Sounds perfect. Thank you so much, Rory. You did a beautiful job,” she said, and hugged me. “I hope you and your roommate have fun with your brother tonight.”

  “Thanks, I can’t wait.”

  “Where are you all going?”

  “We thought about maybe going to Shadow later. They always have great bands playing there.”

  “That sounds nice. Well, you have fun, be safe, and I’ll see you soon.” I hugged her one more time, and I watched her walk out onto the busy New York streets.

  Chapter 2

  Liam

  “Dude, can we put this thing down yet?” Nick said, out of breath.

  “We’re almost there, calm down. Just a few more steps,” I said.

  “Tell me, Tanner, why the hell did I decide to help your dumb ass move into your apartment?” he grunted.

  “So you have a story to tell drunken chicks at clubs about being some sensitive guy helping out
a friend so they’ll go home with your sorry ass.” I stumbled a few steps backward.

  “Hey, I’m a cop. I don’t need some story to get laid. Chicks love a guy with a gun,” he said.

  “Whatever you say, pal. Okay, set it down here,” I said, and we lowered my sofa into place in front of the seventy inch flat screen hanging on the wall.

  “Ugh, finally. That shit was killing my back,” Nick said, breathing like he’d just run a marathon.

  “That might be a sign to lay off the doughnuts and start hitting the gym, big guy,” I said, clapping him on the abdomen.

  “Please, you wish you had rock hard abs like mine,” he teased. Flopping down on the couch, he said, “Hey, grab me a beer, would you?” Nick Ramirez was my partner in homicide at the fifty-third precinct in New York City and had somewhat graciously agreed to give up his day off to help me get moved into my new apartment in Greenwich Village. I was born and raised in Manhattan, and I’d been back in the city for about a month now, but had been staying with Nick until I found a place. I finally had, and not a minute too soon. I’d actually known Nick since I was a kid, and I loved him like a brother, but his walls were paper thin and I thought I might hurl if I had to hear him giving it to some desperate woman that had been dumb enough to fall for his lines and come back to the apartment with him for one more night. I would have the occasional one night stand, but at least I never had to make up some lame ass story to get into a girl’s pants. They usually came to me.

  I walked to the refrigerator and yanked it open. Grabbing two beers, I walked back over to the couch and handed Nick a beer. I took a seat next to him and sighed. “On my own, finally.” I took a drink.

  “Whatever dude, you know you’re going to miss me,” he said, playfully shoving me.

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” At that moment, my cell phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and looked at the caller ID. Sighing, I answered, “Hey, Mom.”

  “Liam, darling, hello. How are you?”

  Five minutes in my apartment and my mom’s already calling me. “I’m good, Mom. What’s up?”

  “Well, I just left the beauty salon and I was thinking of going to lunch. Are you free?”

  I groaned internally. If my mother just left the salon, she no doubt wanted to meet up and try to force this woman on me again for the millionth time. Some hair stylist in the high end salon she goes to. If she works in a place like that, and my mother whole heartedly approves of her, she was probably some blue-blooded bimbo with the IQ of a raisin and daddy’s credit card. If I didn’t love my mother as much as I did, I wouldn’t put up with her trying to fix me up, but I know she means well. Knowing there was no way out of it, I said, “Sure, I’m free. Where do you want to meet?”

  “How about Antonio’s?”

  “That’s fine. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Okay, that sounds wonderful. I’ll go get us a table and meet you there. Bye, sweetie,” she said.

  “Bye Mom,” I said, hanging up the phone. I turned to Nick. “Well, that beer’s going back in the fridge because I have to leave. I have to go have lunch with my mom.”

  “Aw, how sweet. Lunch with mommy,” Nick teased.

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s too early in the day for this shit.”

  “What shit? Viv’s awesome. Why are you complaining?” Nick had always loved my mom like his own because his mother passed away when we were in junior high. His father was never around and he was raised by his grandmother. As much as he loved her, I know he really missed that motherly connection so he was happy when my mom unofficially took him under her wing.

  “I’m not complaining about having lunch with her. I am just not looking forward to hearing all about this woman she’s trying to shove at me.”

  “That hairstylist that she goes to? If Viv likes her, she’s probably hot.”

  “Yeah, and dumb as shit too.”

  Nick barked out a laugh. “Who the fuck cares if she’s stupid or not? I wish I had your problems for one day. Someone practically offering sex up to me on a platter isn’t what I call a bad thing.”

  “Well, sex with someone my mom’s trying to set me up with isn’t a good thing either. Everyone will expect some relationship to develop, and you know that’s not my style.”

  “You are a dumbass, you know that?” he laughed.

  “Shut up and get the hell off my couch,” I said, taking the beer from him.

  “All right. I’m going to go and enjoy the rest of my day off now that I’m not hauling big ass couches for free loaders that finally got the hell out of my place.”

  “Whatever man. Thanks for the help, and I’ll catch you later,” I said, and gave him a quick, back pounding hug.

  “See you,” Nick said, and walked out of my apartment.

  I ran my hand through my hair and sighed. I really didn’t want to spend my afternoon having my mother trying to play love connection, but at least if I had to see any of my family I’m glad it was her and not my father. I haven’t spoken to him in almost ten years…not since I left for college. He was fuming because I chose to go to Indiana University to study Criminal Justice and pursue a career in law enforcement instead of carrying on the family legacy of attending Yale University and pursuing a law degree. Being an only child and the only heir to a wealthy family, it was a huge slap in his face that I chose to do what I wanted, not what was planned for me. I had a great respect for the law, but I always saw myself on a different side of it. I wanted to help people from behind a badge and an oath to serve and protect, not from behind a desk or in a courtroom. And to Grayson Tanner it was the ultimate betrayal. The morning I left for college it came to blows, with us literally getting into a fist fight. I know he wanted to cut me off, but he was more afraid of how it would look in the society pages if that ever got out. Besides, he still needed an heir to leave his vast fortune to, so I was still on the hook in a manner of speaking.

  I didn’t want to come back to New York. Besides my mother, I have no ties to anyone here. But, I know it was hurting her that she couldn’t see me, and I had really missed her. She was the only one in my entire family that ever supported my decision to do my own thing, and I was grateful for that. So, like a good son and despite my better judgment, I moved back to New York City and took a job as a homicide detective in the fifty third precinct. I had an apartment now that I really liked and it was in a part of the city that my father wouldn’t step down from his ivory tower to visit, so that made me happy as well. Plus, I was single and loved the fact that I didn’t have a nagging woman to contend with. Relationships had always been nothing but trouble and a constant irritation. If I had an itch, I’d scratch it, but I never let it follow me home, which is one of the reasons why I had resisted my mother’s matchmaking for the past three years. I just had to get through the afternoon with her, and I planned on hitting up a bar later tonight. Hell, now with my own place, maybe I’d find a woman to help break in my new bed.

  As soon as I walked into Antonio’s, my eyes scanned the crowded restaurant, looking for my mother, and I immediately found her. She was sipping a glass of wine and reading the menu. I knew that she’d stick out in a place like this…it wasn’t her type of dining establishment at all. Antonio’s was the epitome of what a classic New York Italian restaurant would be, and one of my favorite places in the city. My mom always liked to eat in the nicer, classier places, so for her to ask to meet me here made my spidey sense tingle even more. She was definitely up to something.

  I walked over to her table. “Mom?”

  Smiling, she set the menu down and stood to meet me. “Oh, Liam, darling,” she said as she hugged me, “it’s so wonderful to see you.”

  Hugging her back, I said, “It’s good to see you too, Mom.” I let go and pulled out her chair.

  Sitting back down, she said, “You are looking well. You have a new tattoo,” she said, running her fingers across the sacred heart on my right forearm.

  “Yeah,” I said. It was th
e only thing I could think of saying. I knew she hated when I would get them, but she didn’t say anything to me about them, which I appreciated. I was a grown man, what could she do?

  “So, how have you been? How do you like your job?”

  “It’s been good. Investigating someone’s murder is never a fun thing to do, but every day I can put a murderer behind bars is a good day.”

  She didn’t say anything else on the subject, and just simply nodded. “How’s Nick?”

  “Happy to have me out of his place, I’m sure. I just moved my last piece of furniture in today.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he will miss you. He’s such a good man. I admit I sleep a little easier knowing he’s your partner. It’s good to have someone who cares about you by your side.”

  Just then, the waitress came over to take our orders. She was pretty with olive skin and long dark hair. I’ve seen her here before, but I couldn’t remember her name. Definitely cute. I looked up at her and grinned, and she blushed. “Welcome to Antonio’s. My name’s Maria and I’ll be your server today. Can I start you two off with a beverage?” she said, looking at me.

  “I’ll have a beer. Whatever’s on tap is fine,” I said, winking at her.

  Flustered, she said, “Okay, great. And can I bring you another white wine?” she asked my mother, and stole another sideways glance at me.

  “That would be lovely, thank you. And, I actually think we’re ready to order,” she said to Maria. Giving me a wink, she said, “I’ll have the spinach lasagna, and my son will have sausage and peppers.” She always knew what to order me here, because I never had anything different.

  “Okay, excellent choices. I’ll put that order in and I’ll be back with your drinks,” Maria said, collecting the menus. With one more look at me, she walked away.

  I loved Antonio’s. This had always been our little secret place from Dad. Even though I grew up rich and with the best of everything, she liked to remind me that there was more to life than yacht clubs and polo matches. I appreciated her for that. But, my appreciation for her didn’t last long when I heard her clear her throat. She only did that when she was about to give me bad news or ask for something. “It’s a lovely day today, isn’t it?” she said, taking a sip from her wine.