A Wolf at the Door

Trying to get more information on Felix out of the crew in the car was worse than useless. All anyone really knew was that he’d been wandering in the neighborhood “forever” and that he was totally harmless. His origins, his current crash space, all that seemed to be shrouded in mystery. More likely, it was shrouded in “we don’t really want to see the homeless guy on the corner, so we’ll look the other way.”

“Why, do you think he’s a threat?” Bobby wanted to know.

“If I say yes, are you going to go break his kneecaps?” The look on the former soldier’s face told me everything I needed to know. “No, I don’t think he’s a threat. He’s just unusual, and in my line of business, unusual never turns out well for me.”

“Felix is just eccentric.” Gretchen dismissed my concerns with a wave of her manicured hand.

“Can we please talk about something other than the old skeezy guy?” Dante didn’t want to have the conversation at all, it seemed. “They oughta throw his rank ass in jail.”

And that was the end of that.

Did I think he was dangerous? No, not really. My advance warning system hadn’t let me down so far, and there were no goose bumps, no stomach cramps around the strange old man. In fact, he’d even touched my hand without repercussions from Mira’s protective spells, so I think that safely eliminated him from “bad guy” contention.

Still, I decided to watch him. Face it, Felix was one of the more interesting things to happen since I touched down in L.A., and he made more sense than half the people I’d spoken to so far.

As for our little outing, I still wasn’t sure exactly what a “spa day” entailed, despite the fact that it seemed to be one of those things the women in my life enjoyed. I was also unclear as to just what I was supposed to do while Gretchen was doing…whatever it is they did.

“Mostly we read magazines,” Bobby answered from the back when I asked. “Though Tai got a manicure once.”

The Maori blushed, his dark skin getting even darker. “In all fairness, the girl doing it was hot. That’s the only reason.”

Gretchen chuckled, though it was obviously forced. She was trying to paint on a lighter mood. “We could see if she’s there again…I’ll even pay.” Reaching up, she pushed Tai’s shoulder playfully. The big man ducked his head and muttered to himself, but it was all in good-natured fun. “What about you, Jesse? Manicure? Pedicure?” She grinned wickedly. “Bikini wax?”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” It was interesting to watch the shields come down over her eyes, the walls build up around her face again. She painted on her bright and frivolous persona like an artist on a canvas. It was an elaborate show, one she had obviously practiced for a very long time. She sat in the back between Dante and Bobby and chatted until we pulled up to the salon, and you’d think she never had a care in the world.

The place we stopped at was a salon. That’s really all I can say about it. Trendy, I’m sure. Everything done in black geometric shapes. The employees were all dressed in severe black clothes, and the clients seemed to be wandering around in metallic silver robes and fuzzy slippers like some clan of befuddled Martians.

I recognized the music playing softly overhead as some popular Irish-type artist Mira carried in her shop, and the air seemed to be layered with a floral scent. Freesia, I think. Or lavender. I get those mixed up, which is why I’m not allowed to help Mira stock shelves at Seventh Sense anymore.

They greeted Gretchen with hugs and squeals, and swept both her and Dante into the back with very little ado. Bobby and Tai each took up position in a couple of chairs that looked very artsy and were probably uncomfortable as hell. They both, however, were facing the front door. The nonchalance wasn’t entirely authentic. “So how long does this stuff usually take?”

“Couple of hours?” Tai shrugged, picking up a magazine to flip through it. “She’s got a meeting after, so it’s not likely to drag on longer than that.”

Couple of hours? Cripes, I could get my hair cut in a couple of minutes! Glancing around the room one more time, I knew I was going to go stark raving mad if I had to sit here and listen to Irish tin-whistle music for hours.

I’d seen an alley as we’d pulled up to the building, which probably meant I could find the back door to this place. “I’m gonna check the perimeter.”

The back door was in the back. That’s about as interesting as it got. One of the salon employees was in the alley, sneaking a cigarette, and raised a brow as I wandered through. Couple of Dumpsters, some scrubby weeds in the pavement cracks, but nothing sinister. I checked my danger disk as I passed the smoker, but it didn’t react and I had to mentally mark her as clear. Perimeter secure. Sir, yes sir. I felt a little ridiculous.