Love at First Flight (13 page)

“Yes. Thank you.” Juliana hugged her,
picked up the roses, and left.

At the salon she deposited the roses on
the reception desk. The salon was all glass, track lighting, mirrors, light
wood floors, and modern art. Juliana loved the clean, stylish look of the place
and the fragrant scent of the beauty in the air.

“Where'd you get them?” her friend Carol
asked. “Jeremy?”

Juliana nodded.

“Uh oh. What'd he do?”

“Since when do roses mean trouble?”

“A dozen red roses means I love you,”
Carol said, following Juliana to the break room to stash their coats and
purses. “Two dozen means I'm sorry for something.”

“Have you been reading Glamour again?”
Juliana asked with amusement, which faded when she thought of the other thing
she needed to tell her friend. “Hey, so, you won't believe who I met on the
plane.”

“Who?” Carol filled two mugs with
coffee. Her short red hair was stylishly teased into spikes that would have
looked ridiculous on anyone else. On her the style was avant-garde.

“The Benedetti prosecutor.”

Carol paled. The loss of her young
cousin was still a raw wound. “Michael Maguire?” Juliana nodded.

“I've met him a few times at my aunt and
uncle's house. He's very good about keeping them informed.”

Juliana wasn't surprised to hear that.
She took the cup of coffee from Carol and squeezed her arm. “He says they're
going to get them, Car. He has no doubt.”

Carol nodded and dabbed at her eyes
before tears could ruin her makeup.

“Juliana, your nine fifteen is here,”
the receptionist announced through the intercom.

“Are you okay?” Juliana asked Carol.

“Yeah. I'll just be glad when the
trial's over. We all will.”

“I'm sure.”

“We'd better get to work, but I still
want to know why Jeremy's in the doghouse.”

“You're imagining things,” Juliana said,
and they walked out to greet their clients.

CHAPTER 12

ON WEDNESDAY, MICHAEL PICKED JULIANA UP
AT THE salon just after six.

Once she was in the car, she kicked off
her shoes and groaned. “God, my feet are
killing
me.”

“I don't know how you stand up for nine
straight hours.”

“I'm used to it, but sometimes my feet
let me down,” she said, rubbing one of them.

“What's in the bag?”

“Shampoo samples for Rachelle.”

“She'll love that.”

“I brought my scissors, too. I thought
she might like a trim.”

“Thanks, Jule.”

Startled, she looked over at him. “What?”

“That's what Jeremy calls me,” she said
softly.

Michael cringed. “I'm sorry.”

“No, don't be. I don't mind. It's just
that no one else calls me that.”

“How are you holding up? What is it? Day
three?”

She nodded. “Three down, eighty-seven to
go, but who's counting?”

“Not you of course.”

“Can I ask your opinion on something?”

“Shoot.”

“If a guy sends a girl two dozen roses,
what's he saying?”

“What color?”

“Red.”

“That he screwed up. Definitely.”
Juliana laughed. “Am I the only one who's never heard that before?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Jeremy sent them to me yesterday.”

“So people are wondering what he did?”

“Yes!”

“It was a nice thing for him to do,”
Michael conceded. “He didn't have to.”

“I just wonder what else he's doing,”
Juliana said, biting on a thumbnail.

Michael kept an eye on the rearview
mirror as they sat in heavy traffic in the southbound lane of the
Baltimore-Washington Parkway. “Try not to think about it.”

“It's
all
I think about. I just wonder, you know, is he doing it with
someone else right now? Right at this very moment?”

“You're going to drive yourself crazy
with that.”

She sighed and rested her head back. “I
know.” Glancing over at him, she noticed how handsome he was in a dark
pinstriped suit. They hadn't even known each other a week ago, yet there seemed
to be nothing she couldn't talk to him about. “Have you heard any more from
Paige?”

“She's been oddly, strangely quiet. I'm
not com-plaining, but I'm wondering when the other shoe's going to drop.”

“Maybe she's given up.”

“I doubt it. I just hope she leaves me
alone during the trial.”

After more than an hour of crawling
through rush hour traffic, Michael drove past the hotel to make sure he wasn't
being followed. It was almost seven thirty when they finally pulled up to the
J.W. Marriott.

Rachelle was delighted to see them and
thrilled with Juliana's gifts as well as her plans for a haircut.

“Don't let me keep you ladies,” Michael
said. “I'll order us some dinner. Any preferences?”

“Whatever you're having,” Juliana said.

“I already ate,” Rachelle told him and
then turned to Juliana. “You look so cool all in black.”

“It's what we wear to work at the salon.
Keeps it easy.” Juliana draped the cape she had brought from the salon around
the girl's slender shoulders and ran her fingers through her hair. “You did a
good job with the round brush.”

Rachelle's face lit up. “Do you think? I
spent extra time on it today when I heard you were coming.”

Juliana smiled at her in the mirror. “So
how about some layers and bangs?”

“You're the expert. Whatever you say.”

“Let's wash it first.”

Combing out Rachelle's wet hair, Juliana
noticed the girl wasn't as animated as she had been the other night. “What's
wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Rachelle shrugged. “I'll have to testify
soon.”

“Are you nervous about it?”

“Sort of. They're really bad dudes, you
know? Michael told me they'll try to scare me when I'm on the witness stand, so
I shouldn't look at them except for when I have to identify them. I just need
to tell the truth.”

“That's right,” Juliana said, her heart
aching for Rachelle.

“Those kids weren't doing anything
wrong,” Rachelle said softly, her eyes a million miles away.

Juliana continued to brush her hair.

“They were riding their skateboards in
the parking lot when the car pulled up. I saw they were scared when they
realized who was in the car. That's how I could tell they knew them. The two
guys started yelling, and then they were shooting. They didn't see me, or they
probably would've shot me, too.”

“Thank God they didn't see you. What did
you do?” Juliana rested her hands on Rachelle's shoulders and talked to her in
the mirror.

“For a few minutes after they drove off,
I was just frozen. I couldn't move. And then I ran back to my aunt's apartment.
My mom said I was screaming. I don't remember that. The cops came, but I
couldn't talk. For like three days, I couldn't talk. The doctors said I was in
shock.”

“Of course you were.” While Rachelle
talked, Juliana began to cut and shape her hair. “It must've been very scary
when you were finally able to talk to the police.”

Michael came to the door.

Juliana shook her head and used her eyes
to tell him he was interrupting an intense moment. He nodded and backed away.

“I guess the Benedettis had a big
argument with the kids at an arcade that day. Some of the kids' other friends
were with them when it happened. They described the Benedettis, so after they
were arrested I just had to pick them out of a lineup.”

“You're doing a good thing, Rachelle, by
seeing to it that they can't do this to anyone else. You're making so many
sacrifices, but you know that's why, right?”

Rachelle nodded. “I just wish we didn't
have to move. I wish I'd never gone outside that night. I think about that, you
know? If I hadn't forgotten my purse in the car, none of this would've happened
to me or my family.”

“But the Benedettis still would've
killed those kids, only they might've gotten away with it if you hadn't seen
it.”

Their eyes met in the mirror. “That's
true. Michael says I'm his slam dunk,” Rachelle said with a small smile as she
finally noticed the haircut Juliana had given her while they talked. She
reached up to touch hair that was now three inches shorter. “Wow.”

“Let me dry it, so you can see the full
effect.” Juliana turned Rachelle away from the mirror and worked for fifteen
minutes with the hair dryer and brush. “Okay, are you ready?”

“I'm dying to see it!”

When Juliana spun her around, Rachelle
gasped. “Oh my God! Is that
me?
”

Juliana chuckled. “That's you.”

Rachelle ran her fingers through the
layered tendrils. “I love it! Thank you.”

“I'm glad. I've had this in mind for you
since the other night.” Juliana styled Rachelle's hair for another moment
before she said, “You know who
really
needs a haircut?”

“Michael,” they said together.

“Want to help me talk him into it?”
Juliana asked.

“I'm on it.”

They ventured into the adjoining room
where Rachelle's detail of police officers made a big fuss over her new look.
Juliana watched Rachelle seek Michael's approval.

“It's perfect,” he said. “You look
fantastic.”

Rachelle blushed. “Thanks.”

As Juliana ate the burger Michael
ordered for her from room service, Rachelle went to work on him.

“You ought to let Juliana do something
with your hair,” she said, stealing a French fry from Juliana's plate.

“I don't know.” He glanced from Rachelle
to Juliana. “Why do I feel like I'm being ganged up on?”

“
Please
,
Michael?” Rachelle pleaded. “Let her cut your hair.”

“If you don't do it, Maguire, I might,”
one of the cops said as she reclined on a bed with the newspaper. “What's in it
for you?” Michael asked Rachelle. “Entertainment,” she said with a big smile. “Oh,
all right.”

“Caved right in, didn't he?” the same
cop said to one of the other female officers, and they shared a laugh.

“Shut up,” Michael said under his breath
to the cops as he let Rachelle tug him into the bathroom in her room.

Juliana followed them.

“Just a trim. I mean it. I like my hair
long.”

“Let her do what she wants,” Rachelle
said. “She's the expert.”

“
A
trim.
That's all I'm agreeing to.”

Rachelle rolled her eyes at Juliana. “Sheesh,
what a baby he is.”

Juliana smiled and draped the cape
around his shoul-ders. He had taken off his suit coat and tie and rolled up his
shirtsleeves. She ran her fingers through his hair for a few minutes while she
thought about what she wanted to do. When her eyes met his in the mirror, she
was startled to find awareness and desire in his. For a long moment neither of
them looked away.

“Come on!” Rachelle prodded from the
doorway, breaking the spell. “Start chopping.”

Juliana took a deep breath and went to
work. When she was done, she discovered he
was
hot underneath all that hair, and suddenly the walls of the tiny bathroom
seemed to close in on her.

“You look, so... so different,” Rachelle
said with a love-struck sigh.

“Is that good or bad?” Michael asked,
looking himself over in the mirror.

“Good.” Rachelle gazed at him with her
heart in her eyes. “Definitely good.”

Michael brushed the hair off his neck. “Definitely
good. I guess that's better than butt ugly.”

Juliana shared a smile with Rachelle.

“We'd better hit the road,” Michael
said. “It's getting late.”

“Let me clean up the hair first,”
Juliana said.

“Housekeeping can do it,” he said. “I'll
ask one of the cops to call them.”

“Are you sure? I hate to leave a mess.”
Juliana couldn't get over how different he looked with short hair.

“It's fine,” Rachelle assured her. “They
send someone right up whenever we call them.”

“Okay,” Juliana said. “Well, I guess
we'll see you soon.” She gave Rachelle a hug. “Hang in there, honey.”

“Thank you. For the haircut and all the
stuff.”

“You're welcome.”

“We'll try to come back this weekend.”
Michael hugged the girl. “Keep up the good behavior.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They gathered their belongings, and
Michael had a word with the cops before they left the adjoining room. In the
hallway, the police officer on duty whistled at Michael. “Nice 'do, Maguire,”
he said. “Did you
girls
have fun
playing haircut?”