Page 45 of Trusting the Fall
I’ll be at the salon at seven on Monday to inspect the damage.
Lee
20
There’sstillachillin the air as I step out of my truck and make my way through the salon carpark.
I pull the key from my pocket that I picked up from Westley’s office earlier. He assured me I would know which one was for the salon when I got there. Sure enough, as soon as I walked through the door to his office, a bedazzled hot pink lanyard was hanging on a hook on his pin board.
I’ve only spoken to the owner, Claire, through email for the last eight weeks that we’ve been working on this project.
I’m here a little before seven, hoping to get a head start on assessing the damage before the little dictator arrives. Melancholy taints the space as I take in the ravaged floorboards.
I tried to suggest tiles in this place, but would the beauty queen listen to reason? Of course not.
We were lucky to get these floors in stock when we did. It’ll be at least four weeks now before we can get more, plus the additional week for installation and sealing. At least the damage came through the centre of the room, and we had a higher profile skirting board, so the expensive wallpaper seems unharmed.
I drop to my haunches to inspect it closer.
The front door clicks open, and I brace myself to meet the owner. I hope the frantic words from her email on Saturday night have cooled off after a few days.
I’m ready to meet her halfway with a hand outstretched in greeting when I falter, my brows dipping, head tilted, wondering why the hell the sassy little blonde whose bed I snuck out of only a few hours ago just walked in.
“What are you doing here?” I smile, curiosity filling me.
I’m not mad about seeing her. Just utterly confused. The way she stops, wearing a doe-eyed expression and parted lips, makes me think maybe she didn’t know I’d be here. But how could that be possible?
“Leif? How did you get in here? How did you even know I’d be here?”
“Ahh, I didn’t. I’m here to meet Claire, the owner.”
“W-Why… Why? Why would you be doing that?”
I can see the beautiful tan of her skin drain, leaving her ashen. My brain is struggling to catch up, but it’s like watching a crash in slow motion. Something horrible is about to happen, and I can’t seem to stop it.
“I’m here to look at the water damage.”
“Why?”
“Because my company is doing the renovations.” I’ve never seen lashes blink with such determination. She’s starting to get that malfunctioning robot look with the way they flutter out of control.
“But Lee Connors is doing my renovations.”
I feel like anyone else who hasn’t come inside this woman would be operating on more coherent brain cells right now. All I seem to be stuck on is: have I actually been sharing a bed with a woman for weeks and emailing someone else, not realising they’re the same person?
“I’m Lee Connors.” We seem to be stuck in a standoff with reality. It’s me, versus her, versus what the fuck.
“What the fuck!” she screams. Yep, sounds about right. “You told me your fucking name was Leif!”
It’s not the same way she screams it when I’m making her come. I can’t say I care for this new version.
“It is Leif. Lee is a nickname. Only my family calls me Leif.”
“But—But Lee is annoying.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. I cross my arms over my chest, a smirk overtaking my face.
“Didn’t find me too annoying with my head buried between your pretty thighs.”
