Sept. 30/08
I started painting Barb's Salon today. Actually, I started in the bathroom because she said she wanted to see if I knew what I was doing before she let me do the main area. I had to clean it first, the toilet and everything, but once I got that part done, the rest wasn't so bad. It being a small room, I was done by the end of the day, despite having to make everyone's coffee and sweep people's hair off the floor out front on a regular basis.
I'm not complaining. It's just that I get this funny vibe from Barb and the three other stylists, especially Norah, the one I'd seen when I first walked in the door yesterday, the one who still seems somehow familiar. I kind of get the feeling that they don't like me. Maybe I'm just being down on myself and paranoid, but they look at me funny. It must be because of Sheila, but if they didn't like me, why would Barb have hired me?
This evening, Daddy said I did the chicken up even better than usual. He calls me the Chicken Queen. His thing is potatoes, so I call him the Potato King, but I also make fun of him because potatoes are so easy, nobody can screw them up, whereas chicken requires the touch of magnificence. Also, knowing how to avoid poisoning us with salmonella is a must.
Oct. 01/08
I was doing the office today, again cleaning it first, again running coffee and pushing hair with the broom. Got it done, though. I'm pretty tired, but I earned eighty dollars and, by tomorrow, I'll have one hundred twenty for going out with Gina. And it's under the table, so there's no tax coming out of that.
Also, Norah spoke to me today. I was handing her a cup of coffee while she streaked a customer's hair, taking a break from whatever they were talking about to address me.
"I knew your mother."
"Oh?" I asked politely, not knowing what to expect.
"I used to run with her back in the day. Quite a gal, she was."
"How do you mean?" I asked.
"Oh, she was quite the party girl. Didn't John tell you?"
I didn't want to divulge anything of me and Daddy's conversations about Sheila to her, but she and her customer were both looking at me now and I was getting pretty intimidated, so I just shrugged, not meeting their eyes.
"How is he, anyway? He still look good like he used to?"
" ... Yeah,..." I said, thinking of him in the pictures and telling the truth for whatever reason.
" ... Yeah, me and your dad are old friends, too. We all used to hang out back in the day."
I nodded, doubting this very much.
"How's Peg?" she asked with a slow smirk.
"Fine," I answered.
"She hasn't been around in a good while. Should tell her to drop by the next time you see her."
"I should,... I got stuff to-"
"Yeah, better go do some, ah,
crack filling."
she interrupted, her smirk a little more pronounced.
That's the second time somebody made a comment about me crack filling. What's with that?
Oct. 03/08
What a day! Oh, my god! Wait till you hear, but first things first.
Cleaned and painted the stockroom today, the usual distractions present. I've decided to slow down. I definitely don't like the way people are treating me there and I'm not concerning myself with saving Barb Sutton any money. Stretching out the job for my long term benefit is now an allowable offense to the work ethic that Daddy taught me about, and I know that sounds bad, but I don't like them. I've also decided to keep my ears open when I'm there. It's not really like I'm invading other people's privacy, because I think they're talking about me a lot of the time, anyway. Again, this could just be my paranoia, but I guess I'll find out soon enough. I can be sneaky when I want.
But, that's not the big news.
Now that I've got work out of the way, let me tell you how my night out with Gina went. First of all, (we met at the corner
Tim's
again) I told her I got a job and what I was doing. She was quite happy for me and said we'd have a special celebration, even though the job would probably only be temporary.
"Are they nice to work with?" she asked as we sat with our coffee.
" ... Well, not really. I don't think they like me."
"What? Why wouldn't they like you?"
"I look a lot like Sheila, my mother, and I guess she used to hang around that part of town. They recognized her in me and, once they found out my name, they told me that they knew her. She used to be a hair stylist there."
"So, they didn't like her?"
"I don't know, I can't really tell, yet. They made a few comments about me crack filling. Kind of little jokes of some kind, but I don't get them."
" ... Kathleen," she said, frowning, "I don't know shit about DIY, but I know a catty old cow when I hear one and I get that joke. They're insinuating that you're a whore."
"What?"
"They're just a bunch of old bitches, you should tell them to go fuck themselves."
"Oh my god, I knew it. It's because of Sheila. She had a reputation,... you know the kind of,... Well, you know. So, they think that because Sheila was, I am, too?"
"You should tell them all to go fuck themselves." she repeated adamantly.
" ... Yeah, but I don't think I could ever,... I don't think I'm that kind of person. Besides, I need the money and it's a chance to find out more about Sheila. I'm going to stretch the job out and make the most of it."
"But they're treating you like shit! You shouldn't let them! You need to stand up for yourself!"
"I know, but it's no big deal. I can take it and it's worth it."
"I see your point, but I just,... I don't want to talk about it anymore, we're supposed to be having fun tonight, right?"
"Right."
She actually did seem put out on my behalf. A minute later, I screwed up the nerve to ask a question.
"Umm,... hey, Gina?"
"Yes?"
"Well, I hope this question doesn't offend you, but are you part Japanese?"
"No, that doesn't offend me. My father's mother was Chinese."
"Oh," I answered. "Well,... you're very beautiful."
Her expression seemed to glow, for want of a better description, and she answered, "I'm glad you think so."
We went to the mall again, downed a micky and did some shopping before another movie at the theater, and here's where the night starts to get interesting.
There were these two guys sitting in front of us, laughing and talking, making just enough noise that we couldn't hear very well. I looked around to see if anybody else was bothered by this and saw several people in our immediate vicinity looking at the two men.
I no sooner looked back and to my left at Gina, when she kicked the back of one of the men's chairs. He looked back with an expression of irritation, revealing himself to be a little older than her.
She leaned forward and, in a low tone, said, "Sorry."
Soon after, they started up again and, before long, she kicked the back of his chair again, harder this time. So he turned, more irritated and glared at her. Her reaction was the same as before.
Again, they started up. This time, Gina actually slouched in the seat a little, cocked both of her black leather, thigh-high boots back as far as she could get them before kicking out with what looked like all of her might into the top of the seat ahead of her.
He was holding a supersized, jumbo popcorn while taking a drink from a cup that wasn't much smaller, both of which flew out of his grip and completely doused him, me watching the spinning containers as if it were happening in slo-mo, not believing Gina had done this.
He yelped angrily and shot out of his seat as Gina put her feet back down on the floor and sat back up. I laughed out loud before I could stop myself, it was so funny, but when he turned around, I stopped.
Oh, he was mad.
"
What the fuck!?"
"Sorry," Gina repeated casually, taking a mouthful of popcorn from the container in her lap before adding, "Could you please sit down? You're blocking my view."
"You fuckin' did that on purpose!"
"If you don't calm down, security will kick you out, you know," She told him, still with that totally casual tone, leaning closer to me and trying to see around him.
"I don't give a fuck! You're gonna pay for my drink and popcorn, you little bitch! And my fuckin' clothes! I want your fuckin'-!"
"Sir!" someone hailed as a flashlight beam settled on his face.
He stopped yelling at Gina for a second to squint into the light coming from over my right shoulder, putting up his hand in a 'stop' gesture against it and yelling, "This fuckin' crazy bitch owes me money! Look what she-"
