(Attempt at rewrite – there may be some “him/her” mistakes)
1.
“A little off the sides and top, please,” the old man said.
Liam Reese smiled at him and let Mr. Russo sit in the stylist’s chair. He swooped the black cape around the front, and put the Velcro on behind Russo’s neck. “Do you want a shave too, Mr. Russo?”
“No, just the haircut will do.”
He got the comb and scissors and went to work. He thought Mr. Russo just came in to talk to him. He knew he was cute: a petite, brown-haired dark-eyed man, who jogged on him treadmill every morning and kept his handsome looks with diet and exercise, just like the doctor had told him. He didn’t want to have a heart attack like his mother did at 45.
Cuteness got him only so far. This past month, people who had been his loyal customers for years were leaving in droves. A new salon had opened up in the northern part of town, and he assumed most people were going there.
Even one of his most loyal customers, the crazy cat lady from south of town, had stopped in one afternoon and told him she felt “drawn” to this new place. “They’re not like you,” Mrs. Edwards said. “But I want to go there.”
That’s when Liam realized that something was amiss. He decided to go take a walk over there himself.
He got to about 20 feet of the place, when he felt the need to go inside. He resisted. There were crystals in the window, and at first glance it looked like a New Age shop. However, he could see plenty of people inside, waiting. There were four chairs in the back, all filled, but two women working. In one of the forward chairs, one person was getting a perm – Mrs. Edwards! She said she’d never get a perm again. Another person, Sgt. Peter Thompson, was getting his hair foiled for highlights. He couldn’t see the two people in the rear chairs that the stylists were working on.
He had to literally push himself away. The feeling to come back, to try the place, was almost too much to resist, and he had to keep thinking, “I have my own place, I have my own place.” Finally, again, about 20 feet away, it broke, and he stumbled. He glared at the place and muttered, “So that’s what you’re doing.”
Liam went back to him own place and sat on one of the empty stylist’s chairs. They’re using magic. They had to be. What were all those crystals for? He looked at himself in the mirror. He knew who he needed to talk to, but nobody had seen him in a while. He knew where he lived – everyone did. But no one ever went to his place, or called his office, or went to see him, not if they had a good reason.
He thought he had a good reason. If these were New Agers – witches, even – they were encroaching on his town. If Liam told him what he knew, maybe he’d think they were encroaching on his town, too.
With a nod, he got up out of the chair, turned the sign to “closed” and locked up.
2.
Liam looked up at the formidable house. It was an old Victorian, left over from many years ago, with strange side-rooms sticking out of the front and sides. It had a garage to one side, which probably held the owner’s Mercedes and anything else fancy that he had. He had hedges that went between the garage and the house, and a small space between where a wooden gate stood. He had a big lawn out front, with a cobblestone walkway from the street where he was parked.
Liam shut the door to him car with a firm finality. Well, here goes, he thought, and started up the cobblestone pathway.
The day was humid and hot, so by the time he got to the door, he was breathless and a bit sweaty. He saw the lion’s head knocker on the door, and assumed that was in lieu of a doorbell. He raised it and knocked.
He waited, catching his breath. The front door opened, sending out a blast of cool air. A tall, broad man with dark hair and glasses covering dark eyes stood at the doorway. He was dressed in a suit, complete with tie. “May I help you?”
“I’m here to talk to Mr. Vance, please.”
The man paused and said, “Do you have an appointment?”
“Er, no.”
“Allow me to check his calendar so you may make an appointment. Please come in.” He opened the door wide and let him inside. It was much cooler in here, even cooler than his own salon. The man went down the hallway, and took a left, into a room with a closed door, leaving him in the foyer. He walked around the foyer, looking at the statues and paintings there. There was a statue of Venus de Milo, the armless Venus, and a painting that was a watercolor of some distant shore. He looked around to see where the source of the cool air was coming from.
“He will see you now,” the man said, “Please come with me.”
The man escorted Liam down the hall, and he studied him. He was taller by at least a half a head, broad in the chest with a slim, trim waist. His face looked like it had been chiseled from the same artist as Venus, but that this man could well be Mars – a strong jaw, with a bit of a shadow, but sunken cheeks and eyes that looked baby blue in this light. He wondered why a man like this would be a servant to anyone.
Maybe he’s a bodyguard, he thought. Whatever he was, he thought he was definitely worth the risk of getting to know him better. However, he had to concentrate on why he was here.
He was escorted into a room that was a library, with shelves of books all around, and a globe by the window. There was no one at the desk in front of him. The man stepped inside and closed the door, then walked past him, taking off his glasses. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“You?” Liam asked, miffed at his little game.
“Me. I’m Trevor Vance. And you are?”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m Liam Reese. I own ‘Hairs To You’ in town.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve seen the place. It’s very busy.”
“This last month it hasn’t been.”
“Oh?”
“It seems that everyone is going to the ‘Hot Cuts’ salon that just opened up.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a little capitalism at work, Mr. Reese.”
“People say they’re ‘drawn’ there.”
Vance leaned back against his desk. “I fail to see what this has to do with me.”
“Mr. Vance, I know that if you’re ‘drawn’ to someone or something, that there’s more than just a want to try something new.”
The man tried to stifle a smile, but said, “Elaborate on that.”
“Okay. When a new mechanic opened up shop in town, he was price gouging people. Because he was the only local mechanic, he could do this. I’ve heard people say that he moved out of town after he was given a talking-to by you.”
“I still fail to see—“
“You never went to see him.”
“I do not stick my nose into the business of businesses, Mr. Reese.”
“The owners of the place are witches.”
Now this time, he laughed. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Rumors say that you’re a warlock.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and then looked down at him. “Mr. Reese, in the first place, there are no such things as warlocks.”
Liam decided to play a game too. “Then how do you keep this house so cool?”
“There’s a miracle of modern technology called central air-conditioning.”
He looked around quickly, laying out him cards. “I don’t see any vents.”
The smile and amusement faded. “I tell you again, there’s no such thing as warlocks.”
“Male witch, then.”
“Ah, that’s better. Yes, I am a witch. So there are two other witches in my town that want to put you out of business, is that what I’m supposed to get out of this conversation?”
Liam nodded. “Yes, that’s pretty much it.”
“Again, I don’t stick my nose into the running of businesses. Unless, of course…”
“Yes?”
“You pay me.”
“How much?” He knew he said it too quickly.
“I don’t take money,” he said. “But I will take a favor owed.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, Mr. Reese, that I’ll help you get your patrons back, but you’ll owe me.”
“I would like to know what I owe you,” Liam said, not liking the sound of this.
He turned from him started walking toward him. Liam watched him as he did. He found himself holding his breath, even as he held his eyes. Trevor paused, staring into his eyes, and then flicking around to his face, to take him all in. Liam felt that Trevor was undressing him even as he stood there. Then Trevor looked back at Liam’s eyes, and a smile, not an unfriendly one, crossed his features. “No, I do not have X-Ray vision,” he said, and walked on past Liam to the door.
Trevor opened it, and with a wave of his hand, directed Liam to go out the door. His eyes narrowed. “Am I being dismissed?”
“Let us just say that I’ll take your discussion under consideration.”
Liam frowned.