"Oh- time for my break," the hairdresser chirped vapidly. "Bud, will you come take care of this nice young man?"
Thump, thump, thump. Heavy footfalls reached Jake's ears and he tensed involuntarily. "Sure thang," a gravelly voice said from behind. For the first time, Jake realized there was no mirror in front of the chair.
"Bud'll take care of you, sweetie," the woman tittered. She skittered away in a flurry of fake nails and high heels.
There was a grunt that sounded like a cross between a growl and a bark. "I ain't got all day, so let's get to it. A shave, you said? Welp, it's better than this shaggy mop, that's for sure."
Jake started to object- it had been *almost* a shave- but was interrupted by a hard firm slap to the back by a meaty hand. "Just relax," Bud crooned in a voice that was anything but relaxing. "It'll be over in a jiff."
Clippers flicked on and erupted in an ear-shattering racket. Jake started to protest again, but his voice was lost in the noise and a firm hand was holding his head like a vise.
"Can't say I see many haircuts like this," Bud rumbled. "You must be a city boy." The words weren't said as an insult, but almost playful. "I think I'm up to the challenge," he said. Jake's head vibrated suddenly and he clenched his jaw to keep from chattering his teeth into gravel.
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzzzzzzzt. The barber made smooth, whisking motions that met so little resistance Jake wouldn't have thought anything was happening- if it weren't for the body-shaking vibrations through his body. His scalp tingled so fiercely that he wondered if the thing was electrocuting him- but surely it was safe.
He didn't think anyone would hear his scream anyway.
As quickly as it had started, it was over. The barber made a swift motion with one hand and Jake's head fell backwards, bouncing, and his body lifted and reclined. It was comfortable, but probably only in comparison.
A warm wet feeling touched his head, then spread. Looks like it was going to be a shave. "This here is my.. let's call it my special sauce," Bud explained with a chuckle. Jake glanced at his cousins who were flipping through a ragged magazine, completely oblivious. "Only for special customers. New residents," Bud finished with a twang.
It was too late now. If he backed down now, his cousins wouldn't ever let him hear the end of it. Jake tried to relax.
But then the barber's calloused fingers were spreading the lather around his face. "Uh, I don't-" Jake began, but was interrupted.
"Oh, it's my special service," Bud assured him, in a tone that was not assuring at all. This seemed to be a special talent of Bud's. "I'll make a new man out of you," he said.
Whatever, Jake thought. He couldn't do much more damage to his face that he wouldn't do to his head, he thought. Plus, chicks dug scars, didn't they?
He tried to relax. Without warning, there was cold, thin metal at his head. A straight razor, he realized, and he suppressed the urge to bolt upright. Scritch, scritch, scritch he heard as the blade swept over his head.
Each pass was accompanied by a swishing sound as the barber cleaned the blade in something that did not smell at all like water. It was more like leather, dust, and smoke.
Then it came to his face and he closed his eyes, imagining the beach back home, the mall, the densely packed freeway. The last one fit his tension better and he was able to lose himself for a moment. The thick smell of the mystery cleaner clogged his nose and he thought he might retch, but after a moment it sank in, and was no longer as appalling.
Scritch, scritch, scritch he heard from his cheek. That was different. He had shaved last month, and that was about as often as he needed to, his face incapable of growing anything but the most downy peach fuzz. He'd taken after his mother's side that way. The scratchy scraping sound was not one that he'd ever heard while shaving. Maybe it was the blade?
Finally Bud leaned back and surveyed his work. "Well," he said. "That's a good start, I suppose. May have gone a bit far..." he mumbled.
"A good start!?" Jake cried, finally finding his voice.
"Did I say that?" Bud said, startled. "I, er, meant, a good job. It's a good job. Isn't this a good job Marie?"
The spindly hairdresser put the phone aside, finger twirling her badly-permed hair, and tinkled, "Just dandy, Bud," without looking.
"Well then, off you go," Bud said. He heaved the chair upright and Jake lurched to his feet. He took a moment to get his bearings, but by the time he turned around to see his assailant, Bud was gone, his thud-thud-thud retreating into the back room.
Jake saw what looked like a mirror leaning, backside-out, against the wall. As though it had recently been taken down. He was about to ask when his brawny cousin snagged him by the arm. "Come on then, we've got dinner."
Jake was being dragged towards the door. "Don't we need to pay?" he protested.
"We'll put it on your uncle's account, dearie," Marie bubbled. "Course, maybe this one's free," she wondered out loud, looking as thoughtful as possible- which is to say, not very.
"But- wait, what?" Jake said, but he was out the door.