When Jody finds witches in her town, she goes to the only other person who can help her get rid of them: the resident handsome town benefactor - and witch.
“A little off the sides and top, please,” the old man said.
Jody Reese smiled at him and let Mr. Russo sit in the chair. She swooped the black cape around the front, and put the Velcro on behind his neck. “Do you want a shave too, Mr. Russo?”
“No, honey, just the haircut will do.”
She got the comb and scissors and went to work. “How’s your wife?”
“She’s out of the hospital now. Driving me crazy with honey-do lists.”
Jody chuckled. “That’s what wives do.”
“You wouldn’t be like that, would you, hun?”
“Of course not, Mr. Russo.”
“Nobody yet?” He looked up, but Jody gently pushed his head forward, still smiling, though it was forced now. “No, nobody yet.”
“If I were –“
“Twenty years younger, yes, Mr. Russo, we’ve already discussed this.” She laughed. She quickly finished the short haircut. She thought Mr. Russo just came in to talk to her. She knew she was cute: a petite, brown-haired dark-eyed woman, who jogged on her treadmill every morning and kept her figure with diet and exercise, just like the doctor had told her. She didn’t want to have a heart attack like her mother did at 45.
Cuteness got her only so far. This past month, people who had been her loyal customers for years were leaving in droves. A new salon had opened up in the northern part of town, and she assumed most people were going there.
Even one of her most loyal customers, the cat lady from south of town, had stopped in one afternoon and told her she felt “drawn” to this new place. “They’re not like you,” Mrs. Edwards said. “But I want to go there.”
That’s when Jody realized that something was amiss. She decided to go take a walk over there herself.
She got to about 20 feet of the place, when she felt the need to go inside. She resisted, but she went over to the place. There were crystals all in the window, and at first glance it looked like a New Age shop. However, she could see plenty of people inside, waiting. There were four chairs in the back, all filled, but two women working. In one of the forward chairs, one person was getting a perm – Mrs. Edwards! She said she’d never get a perm again. Another person, Sgt. Peter Thompson, was getting his hair foiled for highlights. She couldn’t see the two people in the rear chairs that the stylists were working on.
She had to literally push herself away. The feeling to come back, to try the place, was almost too much to resist, and she had to keep thinking, “I have my own place, I have my own place.” Finally, again, about 20 feet away, it broke, and she stumbled. She glared at the place and muttered, “So that’s what you’re doing.”
Jody went back to her own place and sat on one of the empty stylist’s chairs. They’re using magic. They had to be. What were all those crystals for? She looked at herself in the mirror. She knew who she needed to talk to, but nobody had seen him in a while. She knew where he lived – everyone did. But no one ever went to his place, or called his office, or went to see him, not if they had a good reason.
She thought she had a good reason. If these were New Agers – witches, even – they were encroaching on her town. If she told him what she knew, maybe he’d think they were encroaching on his town, too.
With a nod, she got up out of the chair, turned the sign to “closed” and locked up.