Page 110 of The Man I Hate

“Holy hell,” he exclaimed. “Out here people drive that fast on their way to work.”

“I know. In bumper-to-bumper traffic, too.”

He patted the side of his head. “Get back to work, Missy.”

Hap was a hard man to read. I hoped the battery of questions meant that he liked me. I doubted he’d admit it, even if he did. After a few swipes with the clippers, the next question came.

“You’re successful, pretty, and you’ve got spunk. Why aren’t you married?”

“I was at one point,” I replied, gliding the clippers up the back of his head as I spoke. “I divorced him.”

“Just get tired of him, or what?”

“He couldn’t keep his prick in his pants,” I replied. “I swore off men and sex after that. When I came here, I was on a two-year hiatus.”

“From relationships or sex?”

“Both.”

He digested my response for a few moments.

He was a much different person than my father, but he reminded me of him. It may have been that he had hit me with a barrage of questions. Every time I visited my parents, it seemed my father had random things to ask about my life. I wondered if asking random questions was an age-related thing, or a more of a fatherly trait.

While I mulled it over, he continued.

“Is your business profitable, or is it more for fun?”

“It’s profitable,” I replied proudly. “Very, actually.”

“Lot of high-end cars around here,” he said. “Dumb bastards trade ‘em in every six months. Seems most of these rich pricks have more money than sense.”

“I’m sure there’s quite a few,” I replied. “I haven’t got out much, so I haven’t noticed.”

“Can’t swing a dead cat in LA County without smacking a new Rolls, Bentley, or Lambo. Dip-shits drive ‘em like they’re pickup trucks. See them at the store all the time with shopping carts laying against them.”

In and around Tulsa, there was oil money, and only the extremely fortunate drove such cars. Luckily, there were enough oil barons to keep me afloat.

“That’s a shame,” I said, brushing the hair clippings off his ears. “About the shopping carts.”

“Siblings?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said. “Just me.”

“Brax told me about your parents. Shame any time something like that happens. Glad to have you here, but I’m sorry that’s what brought you.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Life isn’t always easy, I guess. That’s one of those things I’ll probably never understand.”

“Were you able to get the funerals taken care of before they banned public gatherings?”

“They asked to be cremated. It’s all been taken care of.”

“That’s what I want, too. Something about being buried doesn’t set very well with me.”

“Me, neither.”

“Leave any kids back in Oklahoma?”

“Kids?” I chuckled. “Nope.”