Page 29 of Big Sexy Love
I pull a face. I have a very strong feeling he is going to ask if he can drink myblood.
‘W-what is it?’ I ask, my voicetrembling.
‘Darling, I want to doyourhair.’
What theactualfuck?
* * *
Once you knowthe backstory of a psychopath they become a teensy bit less terrifying. Half an hour later and I’ve learned that while Anders is definitely bizarre, he doesn’t seem to be a threat. In fact, I think he’s a bit sad and a bit lonely. Still, that doesn’t mean that having him do my hair feels any less excruciatingly awkward. But if this is the only way to find out where Chuck is, then a girl’s gotta do what a girl’sgottado.
As I sit, stiff-shouldered, in a fancy Queen Anne chair, Anders pulls and twists at my hair. In his thin, raspy voice, he tells me all about his tragic life as a privileged, wealthy white man who can never become the hairdresser that he has always longed to be because his parents would ‘financially abandon’ him ifhedid.
‘I’m a von Preen,’ He explains imperiously from behind me. ‘We don’t have jobs. It’s just not the done thing. We are members of the board at Lincoln Centre and MOMA. We volunteer our time to styling charity balls for New York’s elite, we eat at Manhattan’s finest restaurants and make sure that we’re seen doing it… but we don’t have jobs. I mean… that’s justvulgar.’
‘Jobs aren’t that bad,’ I say, as if this entire conversation isn’t completely bonkers. ‘I have a job. I’m afishmonger!’
‘Good God, you poor thing,’ Anders says with a gasp, patting my shoulder. ‘How awfulforyou.’
I shrug. ‘It’s not that bad,’ I protest. ‘My boss isniceand—’
‘Anyway,’ he interrupts. ‘I realised I had a deep interest in hair styling during my first year at college. Hair was all I could think about. After graduation I planned on standing up to my parents. Telling them that I would train as a stylist, be the first in three generations of von Preens to have a job.’ His voice turns wistful. ‘My roommate Warner had such beautiful hair. Fiery Titian red, long and silky. He had problematic ends, but I knew in my heart that we could fixthose.’
‘And did you? Fix his split ends?’ I ask, begrudginglyinterested.
‘I tried… We had been out for dinner with other members of our secret society, drank a little too much vintage, indulged in a little too much cocaine. I…I was feeling bold. When we got back to our room I told him I could fix his split ends. He thought I was joking, told me to fire up the PlayStation. But… I persisted.’ His voice turns dark. ‘I got out the seven-inch molybdenum stainless steel professional scissors I had bought the week before andapproachedhim.’
My eyeswiden.
Anders continues. ‘I was about to take the first snip when Warner… he… jumped in shock and I slicedhischin.’
‘Shit.’
‘Yes. He thought I was trying to attack him. And I… I was too ashamed to tell him I was just trying to cut his hair! And so I left Harvard in shame. Known only as the man who had tried to disfigure his lovely red-headedroommate.’
‘Wow.’
Do not laugh. This is a tragic tale. It is not funny,Olive.
Anders sighs heavily. ‘And now I spend my days hanging around here, bored out of my mind. Watching old episodes ofShear Geniusand wondering what mighthavebeen.’
I shake my head sympathetically, feeling a little bit sad for this strangecreepyman.
‘Don’t shake your head!’ he barks, his thin voice scratchy with thevolume.
I stop immediately, I do not want to incur the same fate as his old collegeroommate.
I peek at my watch. I’ve been here for forty minutes already! What on earth is he doing to my hair? Surely it must be nearly done? I need to get out of here, I need to get on with finding Chuck. It’s not like I haveunlimitedtime!
‘Why don’t you tell me where Chuck is?’ I ask. ‘You may as well, while I’msittinghere.’
‘Oh, I don’t know where he is!’ Anders says casually. ‘I haven’t seen him, gosh, it must be six or sevenyearsnow.’
‘What? You told me that if I let you do my hair, that you would tell me whereChuckwas?’
I get up from the chair and furiously spin around to face this liar, to look him in hislyingeyes.
Anders puts a hand on his tiny hip and shakes a platinum strand of hair away from hisforehead.
