He had a towel wrapped around his shoulders, and it looked like he was trying to cut his hair.

Shaking her head, she made her way to the door.

She saw Bishop had outdone himself with six extra-large pizzas. Handing the money to the guy, she took the pizzas and closed and locked the door. Returning to the kitchen, she saw Preacher still trying to cut his own hair.

“Did you order all of that?”

“Nope. This is all Bishop.”

“I’m starving.” Preacher put the scissors down, opened up the first box and took a slice, biting into it.

“Why are you trying to cut your hair?” she asked. “You know they have hairdressers for that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah, and I don’t trust anyone, so this is the next best thing. What are you doing here?”

“Studying.”

“Rebecca was being a bitch, and I didn’t want to hear any of the nasty shit she was saying. Dad, they’re my pizzas,” Bishop said.

“And seeing as I pay you to do nothing, they’re now mine. Rebecca was being a bitch? There’s a surprise.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

“Back to the hair. Why aren’t you getting a professional to do it?” she asked. Opening up the box, she took a slice as Preacher went for his second.

“You do know someone would love the chance to off him right. To run a knife across his neck and drain the life from him,” Bishop said.

“Colorful.”

“That’s what I am, darlin’, all about the colorful.”

“Why have you started calling me darlin’ all of a sudden?”

“I’m trying it out.” She finished her slice as Bishop grabbed two boxes. “Why don’t you get Robin to cut your hair? She’s done mine a few times, and you’ve never noticed it wasn’t professionally done.”

“You’ve cut his hair?”

Bishop had left them alone, and she wanted to kill him.

“He kept doing that flicky thing with his head as if it was in his eyes. It drove me crazy, and I didn’t think I had much choice. Do his hair or lose my sanity.”

“Fair play.” Preacher ate another slice. “You want to give it a try? Unless I’ve pissed you off at some point and you’re really not interested in being nice to me.”

She chuckled. “Are you asking me if I want to slit your throat?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have any sudden urges to do that, so I think we’re safe.”

Preacher sat down and held out the scissors for her to take. Her hand shook a little, but she took the offered scissors with a smile.

“Okay. You do know I’m not good at this, right?”

“So long as you still make me look like a man.”

“Don’t you have a razor where you could shave it all off?”

“Not going to happen.” Preacher bit into his slice of pizza. “Do your worst.”

Her heart was racing. She had no desire to slit his throat, but what if he wanted to do that to her by the end of the haircut?

She’d cut Bishop’s a few times because he refused to go to the hairdressers. She knew the only reason he didn’t want to go was because he’d slept with two of the women there and not called them back.

Grabbing a comb, she ran it over his hair, stalling.

It felt nice. Silky, even, which she didn’t expect.

She took her time making the first cut, afraid of fucking it up and getting it wrong.

Once the first cut was done though, she figured that was the worst that could happen.

“So, what kind of shit does your mom say to you?” Preacher asked.

“Oh, you know, the usual mom stuff.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“You haven’t had a mom?”

“I’ve had a mom, but not one who was any good.”

She paused in cutting his hair. This had to be the first time he’d shared personal information.

Should she be flattered?

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she continued snipping away, only taking small cuts in case she messed up.

“She likes to complain about my weight. It’s the only problem she has with me. My room is always tidy. I’m a good student. I do my chores.” She couldn’t figure out why her mother hated her so much. At the end of the day, without her, her mother wouldn’t be classed as an old lady.

“What kind of shit does she say about your weight?”

“Do you really want me to bore you with all the details?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

“True, but it’s girl stuff. You know having too big hips, I’m top heavy.” Her face was once again on fire.

Bishop had heard some of the nasty stuff she’d said and it hadn’t embarrassed her, but saying it to Preacher, it was different.

“Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Rebecca has always been a spiteful cunt.”

“I already figured out long ago I’d never be good enough for my mom, and I stopped trying to be.”

“It’s because she gave birth to a girl.”

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