Welcome to Chapter 3!

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What happened last:

Strangers have moved into the Griffin House and a horrific accident has left a long-time Brook’s End resident dead.

Coincidence?

Chapter 3: Contact With The Invaders:
Part One

A week had passed since Bennie Johnson’s funeral, and everything slowly returned to normal in Brook’s End.

Almost.

People still talked about the new inhabitants of the Griffin house and their appearance at the funeral. Seeing the couple all in black in a graveyard seemed to mock the Brothers’ earlier jokes about them. The boys had hung together and watched them approach to stand discretely to the side. The woman’s face was behind a veil so any detail was lost in shadow. But her profile was clear and striking; she had the outline of a very beautiful woman. The man was a little shorter, but well-built with dark, curly hair and brooding, deep-set eyes.

The priest made a gesture that drew the boys’ attention back to the service. But Scott wasn’t really listening. He was still trying to grapple with the idea that Bennie had no one. His parents had died and he had no siblings—except for a brother who had run away and was never found. How could someone be so alone? Scott watched the priest talk and saw the people standing around in black. He looked at the coffin. It all felt like a surreal dream. It looked right, but something didn’t make sense.

Bennie shouldn’t be in that box, Scott thought. Bennie shouldn’t be dead.

He turned and looked back toward the couple to the side. Like a moment slowly freezing in time, Scott saw the woman’s profile behind the veil. Saw it turning. And suddenly there was no sound. The priest’s voice had stopped. And the woman’s head kept turning. It was turning toward Scott. She looked right at him!

A sound jerked his attention back to the gravesite. The priest had indeed finished talking and had closed the bible with a small flump. Since Bennie had no relatives, the priest bent down to grasp a bit of loose earth. Scott looked away—partly because he didn’t want the final confirmation Bennie was dead, partly because he wanted to see if he had imagined the previous moment when he had caught eyes with the mysterious woman.

Her profile was outlined once again beneath the veil; she was staring forward, just like her husband—both of them intent on the service itself. But she had looked, Scott thought. Hadn’t she?

Scott considered it. What if she had? She probably wondered who the rude jerk was who kept staring at her. And he looked away, again, realizing he was at fault and feeling sheepish.

When the service was over, the boys watched as Jack Mallory and his wife Ellen went up to the alien couple. Of course, Scott thought. He must’ve sold ’em the house. Jack owned the only real estate business in Brook’s End. He introduced his wife and called over another couple to meet the new neighbors.

“They seem pretty normal,” Robert observed of the new couple in town.

“Yeah,” Alex concurred.

They all watched as the pair walked off with Jack and Ellen.

“Yeah,” Scott said. “I guess Griffin Hall’s gonna be just another house again.”

Universally, the boys felt a mix of relief and an odd sadness at both the passing of the great house’s status as well as the end of their secret meeting place.

“So, where’re we gonna hang out, now?”

Scott looked at Randy who still had the question etched on his brow.

“I don’t know.”

“Never mind that,” Robert said. They all looked at him.

“Who’s gonna cut everybody’s hair?”

***

The cosmetological conundrum wafted through the town. Bennie had apprenticed with Marty who had owned the shop before him. There had been some gossip about the new young guy in town being taken in by the older barber; Marty had given him lodging in his apartment above the shop and people had always thought Marty was a little light in the loafers. But nobody said anything because they were both such nice guys and no one ever saw anything funny.

Bennie had seemed like a quiet loner at first. He had a haunted look about him. But after being around Marty for a while, he blossomed and became a near carbon copy; the two men were always bright and jovial—always smiling and laughing. When Marty died suddenly of a heart attack, Bennie changed. He was still as friendly as ever, but that haunted look came back … just a little. You almost wouldn’t notice it if you didn’t pay attention. But there was a sadness behind his eyes if you looked hard enough. Most people didn’t look. Most people didn’t want to see. But Alex noticed it. He and Bennie had caught eyes a few times and it was like they had recognized each other.

Scott didn’t pick up on any of it, but he knew Bennie had a big heart and was damn good entertainment when a guy was getting himself a haircut. And that’s what made Bennie so cool. He was an adult, but he wasn’t all uptight like most of them. And no one told better stories.

All of Bennie’s stuff was going to be donated to charity. Those magazines ended up in the trash, but they confirmed what everyone had suspected but forgotten about. And Scott was pissed. A little pissed Bennie had been a fruit, but more pissed that people were talking about it in such a disgusted manner. Fruit or not, he had been a friend to them all. And he knew they’d all be talking if they found the girlie magazines the boys had left in—

Scott suddenly realized all the stuff they had left in the attic. Had they left anything with their names on it? They’d bought most of those magazines at the store. Well, Robert had lifted the girlie magazines without paying, having slipped them under his jacket. But was there anything that could be traced to any of them? The boys discussed it later and decided the answer was “No”. But Scott kept thinking.

And that thinking brought about the day’s outing. He had recounted the last tale Bennie had told the boys at Pops and they all agreed he had a point. And, truth be told, it was the perfect excuse to get a closer look at Griffin Hall’s new residents.

They took the backwoods route, simply so they could approach the house from behind and check out the cellar. As they got closer, they found a brand-new, heavy padlock on the cellar door. They all caught eyes two by two as they passed by, acknowledging the inarguable fact: The Place, at last, was truly no longer theirs. They rounded the corner to the front of the house. As they climbed the porch steps, their feet made the same thumping sounds they had heard a few weeks ago when they were almost caught inside.

They all stood in place, looking at Scott.

“Okay,” he said, suddenly wishing for once he didn’t have to be the leader. He reached out his finger and rang the bell. Then they waited. And, after a beat, footsteps approached from the other side of the door. The boys stole quick glances at each other.

The door opened, revealing the lady of the house. The boys all had to take a breath. This time the woman’s features were fully exposed: the statuesque beauty of her face ensconced by long, dark hair billowing over her bare shoulders and curling slightly at her pronounced cleavage. No adult woman in Brook’s End ever dressed like this. And none looked quite like this. Her dark eyes sucked you in and her lips hung full and inviting.

Those very lips curled into a small, playful half-smile.

“Well,” she said. “And to what do I owe the honor of a visit from Brook’s End’s most handsome young men?”

The boys were speechless. Was she serious? Was she really flirting with them? Or was she just jerking their chains?

Scott cleared his throat. “I’m Scott Benedict and these are my friends Alex Carter, Robert Mendez, and Randy Wiltowsky. We, uh…we were wondering if we might have a word with you.”

The woman looked at each one of the boys as if she were considering each one of them for possible purchase.

“Of course,” she said with a charming glint in her eye. She stepped aside and gestured for the boys to come inside. Come into my parlor, Alex thought. Scott went first and the others followed. The woman closed the door behind them.

“Please have a seat,” she said. The boys all sat in the closest seats they could find; Scott ended up in a chair next to the couch where the other three sat in an awkward line-up.

“Can I offer you something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” Scott said quickly. He didn’t want to get derailed from the plan, although this woman’s whole being seemed to be a foil.

“All right, then,” she said. She moved to the chair opposite Scott and sat down. “What can I do for you?”

The phrase came out of her lips with such subtle seduction, the underlying suggestion, although invisible, was completely palpable.

“Well, Mrs. …uh…”

Christ, Scott thought. How could he have forgotten such a simple detail as finding out her name?

She just smiled more and fulfilled his need.

“Malbourne.”

Scott looked at her, turning a little red. “Yes. Malbourne.” Is it just me or is it getting hot in here? he wondered. All the boys were actually feeling a little warm.

“We wanted,” Scott continued, “to ask a favor of you.”

“I thought the new neighbor was supposed to be bestowed with favors of welcome. And here you’ve come not to give but to receive?”

The boys on the couch turned as one to Scott. It would have been funny if Scott didn’t feel totally ashamed all of a sudden. And she was so clearly teasing, playing with them. How had this all gone so wrong so fast?

“Well,” she said, leaning back in her chair. Her hands had been in her lap, but now she set her arms back on the armrests and her breasts were thrust forward, slightly. “What is it you want from me?”

The innuendo was too obvious, too blatant to be missed. And with the visual on top of it all, the boys were helpless to stop adolescent nature from taking its course; they all felt their crotches tingle and start to swell.

Focus, Scott, focus!

“We were talking to Bennie Johnson the other day before…”

Mrs. Malbourne looked down at the ground, suddenly chaste and contrite. Scott was moved by it. Maybe he had been imagining all the sexual signals. Maybe his brain was just in hyperactive hormone drive.

“He said he had dinner with you and that you said you were a licensed barber.”

Mrs. Malbourne looked up again. “Was. I was once upon a time. But I haven’t done it for years.”

“You did a pretty good job on Bennie,” Randy said.

The room stood still. Randy had clearly meant it as flattery—referring to the fine haircut she had given Bennie. But the other, darker meaning was so clear to Scott, he was sure offense would be taken and they’d get thrown out. You did a pretty good job on Bennie. As if she had been anywhere near Bennie’s car or that mountain road.

But Mrs. Malbourne either didn’t hear the insane accusation or chose to ignore it. In either event, she smiled sweetly at Randy.

“That was just for fun. Did you really like it?”

Randy was a sudden, love-struck pup.

Yeah,” he said. “It was nice.”

She smiled coy, almost shy.

“Well, you’re sweet. Thank you.”

Randy started to blush.

“Sure.”

“Anyway…” Scott tried to get back to the program. “Bennie was our barber. I mean, there’s Stella’s, up in Craigmont, where the girls—I mean the women—go. You know…for all that…fancy stuff. But for us guys who just want a haircut, Bennie’s was it.”

“Oh, my,” Mrs. Malbourne said. “I think I’m beginning to see where this is going.”

“It wouldn’t have to be permanent,” Scott said, quickly. “Just until we get someone else. But you’re qualified and we’re kind of in a bind.”

Mrs. Malbourne looked at the boys, smiling, clearly amused. “And so, you all came here to talk me into being the town barber.”

She said it as though she couldn’t be more tickled, but Scott and Alex both suddenly realized not only how pushy it was of them, but how self-serving it sounded. They exchanged a look: We’re such assholes!

Mrs. Malbourne was still smiling. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll do it.” Robert had been quiet long enough. And he was never the patient sort. Mrs. Malbourne looked at him and then back at Scott who, by now she had realized, was the ringleader.

“I’d like to help. Really. But I didn’t get my license renewed. It isn’t valid anymore.”

Silence. The Brothers hadn’t counted on that. Mrs. Malbourne saw the look of disappointment on their faces.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I really am.”

Scott looked at her. She caught his eye. He was struck hard by her beauty, but also by what clearly could be nothing other than a sincere, honest empathy. And he felt bad. It had been his idea to come to her—to lay this responsibility, this obligation on her. He had acted like an unthinking boy, instead of the man he was trying so hard each day to become. And he had made this innocent woman feel bad in the process. Never make a woman feel bad, A.J. had warned him once upon a time.

A.J.

How had she come into his mind?

“Listen,” Scott started. All he wanted was to make it better; to somehow make everything all right. A.J. would have counted on him to do that if she were here right now. He’d do it for her.

“This is a small town that doesn’t even qualify to be on ninety percent of the maps that get printed. No one’s gonna care if you’ve got some piece of paper or not. And no one from the Hair Cutting Police is ever gonna come by and give you grief. And we’ll probably get somebody new in no time. And you might even have fun. In fact, we only want you to do it if you think you’ll enjoy it. But you should know…you may be our only hope.”

The boys on the couch stared at him, amazed at his sudden, glib argument and its cliché conclusion. Scott decided to go with the corny drama. He stood up and said in a slightly deeper voice, not without a hint of a smile: “Mrs. Malbourne: your town needs you.”

Again, as one, the boys on the couch turned to look at Mrs. Malbourne. She was looking at Scott, admiration and amusement melting across her exotic features. Then, with a small, amused smile, she stood up to face him.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it!”

The boys on the couch all jumped up as one, cheering. Scott and Mrs. Malbourne just looked at each other, grinning. Maybe things really were gonna be all right after all.

To be continued…

NEXT UP - Chapter 3 (the conclusion)

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