A Business Proposal by Armando94

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(back in the small town again! Some familiar faces too...)

"Sweetheart," Ian’s mother softly called from her room. He may have needed glasses the last few years, but his hearing hadn’t failed him. Since he came most weekends to look after her, he was constantly waiting around for her summons. But he didn’t mind. Ian knew there wasn’t much time. At least the doctors said so. Her hospital wasn’t far, although not around the corner from this small town. But this was where his mother, Loraine, wanted to be. A place she had passed through once many moons ago. Bought a small cottage, kept it up here and there. That was after her first battle with cancer. It had been found early, practically stage zero. It took a year to be in remission, and then another thirty years gone by until a year ago. There was another tumor, this time it wasn’t good. Loraine was in good spirits, but she was not well. Bedridden most days, no longer able to take care of her garden like she enjoyed in retirement after a lengthy career as a powerhouse editor in the publishing industry in New York. A place Ian still called home, living in the family’s old rowhouse down in the Village, working in banking downtown like his father had. Ian an only child, his father passing a decade ago on the precipice of his and his wife’s joint retirements.

Still, Loraine did what she’d learned best, after having cancer in her forties and losing her husband in her sixties: she got to work. Enough money saved up, she bought and built a bookstore in this small little town. Then a few years ago buying the space next door and building that into a connecting café. The pandemic was winding down and people deserved to be together, and with books. Now Loraine had to hear about the business from either Ian or her employees who ran the business with full hearts. That was another duty for Ian while he visited, checking on the stores.

Ian put down the book he was reading and tore off his glasses. Ambling down the hall to his mother’s room. She had a slight smile on her face and breathed the words, "Tea?"

He smiled back at her, lowering himself to kiss her on the forehead. Her frail hand passed through his thick, thick chocolate brown hair. Waves that were contained but had the texture from an Impressionist painter’s brush. He’d just had it cut, if it could be believed. His neckline and sideburns at least showed it, even if his hair still looked "big" to some. It was the envy of all, his father having had a full head of hair but never this thick and healthy. Ian always went to the same barbershop, ever since he was a boy. Different barbers in different chairs overtime. It didn’t matter if he was nearing forty like now or fourteen when he started to go on his own, he always had the same feeling in his soul as he stepped down those iconic steps, opening the doors and engulfed in a scene of tens of barbers and many waiting around to get cut. He’d switched who he went to, especially if he didn’t make an appointment, but always a male barber. He had to wait a bit the other night, but enjoyed the atmosphere. Way back when it was guys flicking through magazines, now everyone was glued to their phones. Sometimes Ian did the same, but the barber cutting him would be ready in 10-15 minutes. So, Ian took in the atmosphere: the sights, sounds, and smells.

Once it was his turn, Ian plopped himself in the chair, loosening his tie before he was donned in the bright red cape. He was either going to drive out late tonight, the longish drive, or early tomorrow morning, but he knew he wanted to get a cut. It was hanging over his ears, and even Ian was willing to admit it was tough to handle when it got to that point. He carried on a light conversation with his barber, after having had his head wet down, then gently combed through, trimmings and clippings falling down onto the cape. Like little pitter patter of snowflakes, because they sure as hell had had plenty of snow here and by his mom this winter. As the haircut was underway, a part of Ian had a wild idea that maybe he should change up his look, even if only slightly.

"Hey, it is a little longer on top right now, wouldn’t ya say?"

"Sure," his barber nodded. "Want me to take a bit more off?"

"Yeah, if you can."

"Course I can," the barber waved the scissors in the air, making them both laugh. "Can take it down as short as ya’d like. You wasn’t thinking of changing your whole look, no? Your hair is gorgeous. Sure, your young, but still look at ya. Handsomer with every passing day."

"Well thanks," Ian tried not to blush too much. He knew the barber was just being friendly, not actually flirting. Ian and relationships, well. Some men lasted, some didn’t. Afraid his parents disapproved of this behavior, let alone his choice of life, his mother still reminded him that she only cared that he was happy. His father said it didn’t matter, woman or man, so long as that partner was as good as his mother was to his father. But it had been a busy year, Ian was kinda okay not having a certain someone. Even with the passing holidays, feeling lonely.

The barber proceeded to take an inch off the top, and an inch and half on the sides and back. It didn’t dramtically change Ian’s look, but to Ian it was noticeably shorter. Still thick and dare he say "poofy", as the odd partner had commented sometimes in bed after they’d done the deed. Petting his head like he was their little dog. With the amount of hair cut, Ian felt it, as it was combed section over section. Lift, snip, snip, snip, comb again, lift, and so on. The outline of the edging clippers went all the way around his neckline and ears, cleaning of the sideburns perfectly. The purr and vibration of them gave Ian even a surprise thrill. One wrong move from him and he’d be walking out of here with a new hairstyle. But before he knew it, he was dusted off and the cape was released. Before he sat up from the chair, he passed a hand through his sides. It certainly was cut shorter, even judging by the clumps now all over the floor.

"Can always go shorter, bud. I can use a long clipper attachment just for the sides, then take the top down a bit more?"

"No, this is great, thank you!" Ian quickly stood up, quick to grab his coat too as he felt a certain burst pulsating from a certain region at this suggestion. He handsomely tipped and made it out of the shop, figuring he’d head out tonight for his mother’s.

Ian took his mother her tea, and he made himself a cup too. They chatted lightly, she asking about the city and what he was reading. They danced around the subject of what her passing would bring, but there was one thing in particular he’d been pushing with her. "Mom, we still have to talk about…well, my plans for the store."

"What plans?" Loraine feigned ignorance. She didn’t want to bring this up.

"I think its about time the shop and town knew you aren’t just the brilliant former editor Loraine Prendergast…" Ian took a deep breath. "…but P. L. Matters, the bestselling author."

"Oh, Ian, come on, that’s ancient history now," she accented on the vowel of the last word. With further exaggeration, "Why do you keep dragging that poor cat out of its bag?"

"Because people deserve to know the truth. They deserve to know it was you! The modern-day Agatha Christie. Right under the nose of the whole publishing industry."

"Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart," she fake laughed. Caressing another hand through his hair, "Oh, you’ve had the barber take it slightly shorter, haven’t you?"

"Nice diversion, mother dearest."

"Oh, fine. Fine, but why? So late at this point, I haven’t written in over five years, some of the books have already been adapted or are being adapted. And besides—anyone with half a brain knew it was me. Doesn’t your generation get all up into conspiracy theorizing?"

"I certainly don’t, I’m not like that," Ian took offense.

"Well sweetheart, you’re the heir to the origin of all that. Or one of the many origins. For years insiders kept pointing it at me, and never able to prove it. Pays to have a good agent, and now a dead one," she sighed. "I don’t think Maurice even told his wife it was me. Smart man." Loraine sat up, swatting her son’s wrist, "Why do you care so much?"

"Because I think what an amazing thing, that one of the best authors ever is actually the owner of a bookstore. Do you not realize the foot traffic that would cause?"

"Of course, sweetheart, but this town doesn’t need that. Tourists gawking and all, because of poor old me. And then what, I’m supposed to turn up? Like a character at Disney Land?"

"You know I’d never make you do that," Ian gripped both her hands. "Look, just think about it, if you want it as a final wish. When your gone, it can be a huge secret revealed. No fuss about it, just announce it to the world. Think about it?"

"I…I just," she floated her hand in the air as if to command a spell. "Don’t you have errands to run for me? Suella is off this weekend, because you are here."

"I’ll leave, but just for a bit, alright?"

"Oh don’t feel rushed, I’m fine, sweetheart! Go!" With that, Ian kissed his mother one more time, and then slipped downstairs, throwing on his coats and boots, and a flap cap backwards, before taking his father’s old Aston Martin downtown.


Father Theo liked a few simple things in life. Number one, God and his devotion to creating a great parish here in town, and with that the diocese. Number two, his health, and by that eating all the good food parishioners shoved his way, yet also trying to keep slim. Number three, intellect. While he may preach behind a pulpit weekend after weekend, Father Theo enjoyed taking a step away from all this, reading fiction and nonfiction from people of all walks of life, different beliefs from him even. He thought it good to broaden one’s mind to others’ experiences. Its why he always tried to seek out helping anyone in the community, even those not like him.

He was perusing the stacks of Loraine’s Little Books, picking through books from both sides of the political divide, as well as some new fiction from translations. He purchased a translated book, an older parishioner behind the counter, and then took it with him to the café, ordering a latte and a large croissant. He’d had an earlier lunch with one of the ministries, but still had Saturday evening mass later. A little treat wasn’t going to hurt. Moments after sitting down, he saw his next appointment burst through the café’s doors: Henry. Father Theo waived at him, Henry smiled and motioned to the barista bar. Henry hadn’t eaten lunch, as he put in a lengthy order with the teen at the counter. Father Theo knew his parents couldn’t help this weekend with the construction of the antique store’s evolution, said they had a wedding or something. But it seemed Henry had been fine getting things going.

Henry sat across from the priest with a sandwich and chips and a latte himself. "Glad to see you Father Theo, thanks for making the time."

"Of course, besides, seems you need a break from all your work." They carried on a friendly banter, catching each other up on all their latest news. It had been an hour before they both realized it, Father Theo realizing he’d better get running, but he enjoyed the bit of "friendship" he had sparked with Henry, even if he wasn’t a parishioner. That didn’t bother him. As Henry was drawling on and on about all these different vendors he was getting involved and put into the store to sell, the younger man’s face dropped at the sight of something behind the priest. Father Theo turned around to see what. Some of the other tables were occupied, and no one was online for even a free cup of water. But talking with the staff behind the bar was a man of age with Henry. The owner of the bookstore’s son, Ian, who had been visiting more often the last year or so. Father Theo sometimes made house calls to Loraine, the owner, who’s Catholic ways were a bit more liberal. But the priest didn’t mind. Besides, any house call during the week to sit and pray with Loraine meant stories about her time as an editor.

Father Theo turned back to Henry, who’s eyes were still "ga-ga" at Ian. Ian was extremely handsome, dare the priest say, better looking than any other guy in town. His thick gorgeous hair set him off from the others. Father Theo could tell it was recently cut, judging by his sideburns. Thicker hair than even Henry had. Henry, sadly, had started to let the flattop grow out. His sides weren’t shaved down like Father Theo’s, but, he hadn’t resorted to a longer look again. A flat-crew, could you say? The way the hair on top and bit of fringe went forward, rather than lay forward. Sides slightly grown in right now from a medium fade. And, an impressive moustache. If anything, Father Theo was glad Henry took a plunge with that, it suited him. Even Nick the barber agreed.

"Earth to Henry," Father Theo brought him down. "I believe I must run, mass later. Your more than welcome to stay. Have you been to the bookstore yet?"

"Not much," Henry mumbled in a daze. "Have only gotten a coffee when I’m around."

"Ah, well, this is one of my favorite places in town, and the owner, Loraine, is lovely," the priest stood up. Henry stood too and shook his hand. Father Theo winked and patted his shoulder. "That young man over there your staring at is her son, Ian. I’m sure one day he will be the owner of these establishments. Maybe good to meet the neighbors, wouldn’t you say?" And with that, Father Theo took off with a smile upon his lips.


"As always, thank you all for your help. I know my mother appreciates it."

"Anything for Loraine," the older general manager of the café, Patti, touched his arm. Some of the staff was aware what Loraine was up against.

Just as they were all clearing away, Ian figured it be best he head back home. Everything seemed good both here and in the bookshop. Just as the group disbanded and he looked up, Ian was surprised by the mustached man standing there, waiting. "Uh…hi," Ian tried.

"Hi," the stranger said back, looking a little lost.

"Oh, if you want something, the bar is there," Ian pointed back towards the front.

"Oh, no no, I know that," Henry waived his latte cup. Damnit, Ian felt stupid for not having noticed. "I wanted to introduce myself, I’m Henry. Henry Douglas. I’ve bought the front next door."

"Oh," Ian nodded, sticking his hand out, "Ian Prendergast, not the owner of this store, or the bookshop," his comment made Henry laugh, and put Ian at ease. "My mother does."

"Loraine, I take it?"

"One and only," Ian nodded. Neither man said anything, letting the ambiance jazz music in the background fill their dialogue. As they did so, Ian couldn’t help but look beyond Henry and his moustache. It didn’t give him the outright hipster look Ian would have associated with him, probably because the short haircut he had. A short haircut that Ian was impressed by, and really into if he had to admit. Taken back to a couple nights ago, the mention of the clippers at his sides. Looked like Henry had that and then some! A vision clouded Ian’s mind at that moment, if he had sat back down in the chair Thursday. The sight of the clippers not only passing up his sides and back, but from the back of his head straight to the front. Boy what a sight that would be, and a thrill too! Thinking about it just made him paw at the top of his hair. Maybe that extra inch off hadn’t been enough…

"Anyways," Henry broke the silence, "just wanted to introduce myself…neighbor."

"Neighbor," Ian smiled. "Well, I can’t wait to see the place when its ready. When’s that?"

"Oh… a while now," Henry sighed. Then he perked up, "I can show you it now though? It isn’t ready, but, she’s getting there."

"S-s-sure," Ian fumbled. "I-I was just heading out, so I could pop over." And pop over he did, saying goodbye to everyone again and heading next door. Henry flicked on the lights after they entered. Of all the years Ian had visited this town, he never remembered anyone in this spot. Henry surely had his work cut out for him, but he was making some considerable progress. Looked like there was sawdust on the ground, but Ian didn’t know if that was from actual wood or faded dirt. He shadowed Henry’s spots as the new owner took him around, explaining every nook and crany. The excitement this Henry had about this endeavor. It was really heartwarming, and dare Ian say, attractive. Well, he already decided Henry physically was attractive. Nice to see on the outside matched what was within.

"But yeah, that’s about it so far," Henry concluded their tour, standing opposite Ian across a floating island bar, not in the spot it would be eventually. "Taking some time, but I’m really happy with it."

"You should be, Henry," Ian complimented. "Running any business…I can’t imagine it."

"Well you’ll do that one day, right? For your mom?"

Henry’s questioning was innocent. Little did he know, that day was coming a lot sooner. "Yeah…" Ian exaggerated. "Yeah, when that day comes." The thought of it made him want to rush home, check on Loraine. "Listen, I gotta run. But it was great meeting you, and thanks for showing me around. I have some contacts in New York, different vendors who might be interested in selling things here, if you wanted…"

"Oh," Henry looked stunned. "Uh, thank you!? That’s awfully kind."

Ian blushed big time, "Here," and then they exchanged numbers.

When he got home, Loraine was fine, irritated he wasn’t gone long enough. But then her expression brightened, a smile came to her lips, "Something is different about you…in the last couple hours," she tapped a finger to her lip. "Who was he?"

"Sorry?!" Ian was no great liar. And his mother was already too damn smart. He admitted he met her neighbor, Henry, the man opening an antiques store. Without realizing, Ian gushed about the private tour Henry gave him, the bit of chatting, his offer to help. He didn’t realize he was rambling until his mother cut him off.

"What are you making me for dinner, sweetheart?"

"Uh, whatever you want. I can get us takeout too, if that’s cool? Pizza?"

"No, no, you won’t be eating with me," she smiled and shook her head. "You have that young man’s number? Ask him to dinner. Tonight."

"Mom!!!" Ian covered his face with his hands, "this isn’t the summer in my twenties!"

"Well that was all for fun and dare I say ‘sport’," Loraine rolled her eyes. "Text him, or call him. Even better. Your both adults. Besides, I’m sure he’d like the company.

As always, Loraine was right. Ian called Henry no less than ten minutes later, having to pump up the courage to do so. Asking if he was around tonight, maybe grab dinner, or even just a drink. Henry was around, no plans. He sounded even happy on the other end, suggested a bar/pub where they sometimes had live music from local bands. Luckily, that shouldn’t be the case tonight. Henry even said, "That way we can hear each other."

Ian took a shower, blow drying his hair to perfection with a slight bit of Kiehl’s product. Then he put on a deep navy cable knit sweater and a light pair of flare jeans with his boots. When he arrived at the spot, Henry was already at the bar, similarly dressed except in casual khakis and a hunter green sweater. Ian told the bartender he’d have what Henry was having drink wise. And thus began there sudden match to drink-for-drink. But mostly because they got right into their lives. Ian was fascinated by Henry’s story, giving up his law career, traveling the world, the places Henry had been. Ian had been fortunate to go to Europe a whole lot in his career but also with his parents growing up. They ordered different burgers with fries, their faces pressing closer and closer through the night to hear each other as a crowd settled in. Thank god there was no band tonight, but Ian enjoyed hearing Henry’s take on this little town.

But all through the night, Ian couldn’t deny that he was attracted to Henry. They’d just met, and Ian felt crazy for saying this, but no other guy had ever put him at such ease. So many fascinated by his career, when really all they saw in their eyes was dollar bills. Or the sort of high society Ian came from, many had scoffed at it while others tried to suck up to it. And of course, his looks. Ian was guilty of caring a lot for his looks, but something about the bit of no-nonsense yet stylish look Henry had was alluring. Every time Henry spoke, Ian watching and listening intently, he imagined what that mustache would feel like pressed up against his face.

Both men had lost track of how many beers they had since the bar back kept clearing them. Ian knew they had had a lot when they laughing at some story, and Henry pressed his palm into Ian’s right thigh. He didn’t release his firm press, and when it felt like Henry was going to pull away, Ian placed his palm on top of Henry’s, occasionally stroking it with his finger. Then it got late, they were throwing everyone out. When all stepped outside the town was covered in snow. "Its snowing!" Ian exclaimed. The town looked even more cute than before, Henry smiled too. Many at the bar, old and young, abandoned their cars to stumble home. Ian shrugged at Henry, but Henry was a bit resistant. Henry wore sneakers. Ian had a plan…

Henry was careful where he stepped in the uncleared streets, until Ian tackled him from behind, throwing him on his back, then carrying him the rest of the way. It was just the two of them out this way. Should he bring Henry back home with him? Or to Henry’s?

"That’s my stop," Henry eventually announced. Ian paused and turned to his right, to see an old Victorian home. Henry slid off Ian’s back as they walked up the porch. They paused and Henry said, "Thanks for inviting me out, I had a really great time."

"Me too, I had a really good time too," Ian said, eyes laser focused on Henry’s. "A really good time," and before he knew it, as much as he felt he shouldn’t, he was closing his eyes, and gently guiding his head towards Henry’s, to place his lips on his. And Henry was right there to catch him and meet the mark. They kissed as snowflakes blew around them, their hands pressing each others faces. Henry guided their kiss up the stairs until they were in the warmth and safety of the house, eventually making it to some bedroom. When they were on the bed, under the sheets, Ian let out a moan as Henry tore his fingers through Ian’s mane. Ian was looking forward to having the best bed head ever in the morning. As Henry felt his hands through Ian’s dense thatch of waves, Ian matched by rubbing his hands all along Henry’s body before reaching his head, scratching around his shorter cut. Ian thought how nice this felt, and maybe how nice it would feel if he could wake up every morning and feel this. Not just on Henry, but on himself! The thought of this combined with Henry’s movements through Ian’s locks made him picture this whole scenario out, these chocolate brown locks falling to the barber shop floor, rising from the chair with a similar look to Henry’s.

After their fooling around, the two let out a laugh and sigh. "I want to say I’m sorry…but—"

"—I’m not," Henry finished for Ian, then smiled at him before Ian placed a kiss goodnight on his lips. The next morning, or a few hours later, Ian was overwhelmed with joy and warmth, wrapped together with Henry like this. After some morning kisses, and Henry stroking Ian’s head again, which Ian really liked, Henry asked, "So…breakfast?"

Ian smiled but then his face shifted, and he jumped out of bed. "Shoot! My mother!" hopping around to find his clothes, thinking maybe he’d put Henry’s underwear on by accident. He apologized for being like this, and kept reassuring Henry he’d had fun, and he meant it all, and he’d like to do it again. Out of breath and freaking himself out, Henry grabbed Ian by the shoulders, and said, "Shh, relax. I’m sure Loraine is fine. Want me to come with you?"

What was even more shocking was Ian didn’t hesitate to say yes. They both put on their clothes and trampled out of the house, still unable to pull apart from each other, kiss after kiss like they were teenagers. Loraine’s house wasn’t exactly around the corner, so they went back to the bar to at least get Ian’s car. When they arrived, Loraine was up and making a pot of coffee. "Oh, good, there you are." Ian breathed a sigh of relief

"I wasn’t the one with a wild winter night out," Loraine commented. he swore his mother winked before extending a hand to Henry, "Loraine Prendergast."

"Pleasure, Henry Douglass. Getting to meet my business neighbor finally."

"Oh, pleasure’s all mine," Loraine kept her perky self up. "You know what they say, need to borrow a cup of sugar, just ask your neighbor. Although looks like you might have taken a whole bags worth last night, Mr. Douglass." This time she definitely winked. "Or a whole jar of my honey." After the ice had been shattered, Ian felt at ease having Henry here. Henry joined Loraine at the table and they immediately became animated about all the different shop owners on the main drag of town. Ian enjoyed listening, smiling to himself as his back was turned while he made pancakes for breakfast. After breakfast they sat around another hour just chatting before Loraine gave a hint that she needed to lie down. Ian gave him a brief tour, unlike last night at Henry’s house, before they drove back to the bar to get Henry’s car. Ian parked and turned off his car. Silence ringing between them except the church bell in the distance.

"So…" Henry finally spoke. "…know when you’ll be back in town?"

"Probably next weekend," Ian nodded, neither of them meeting each other’s gaze.

"Nice," Henry looked down at his lap. Ian noticed the way Henry’s hands were positioned, and because he felt like he could, he placed his right hand into Henry’s left, and squeezed. Henry looked up at him and smiled. "I really did enjoy last night. Not just at mine, before that, too."

"Me too," Ian beamed, then leaned in and kissed Henry. Then kissed some more, till they were making out like it was meant for a movie. When they released from each other, Ian let out a sigh, "Next weekend can’t come any faster." And the week did drag, for both of them, but they were constantly communicating. Their texts were sharing funny things from the day, or the occasional awkward selfie: Ian in a meeting, all dressed up, texting "Missing you". Henry would respond, a mess from his cleaning and labors of the shop, saying "Miss you more". They spoke each night on the phone, where they were more vulnerable. Ian opening up about his mother’s condition, his fears and worries. Henry said if he wanted, they could spend that weekend with Loraine, so Ian didn’t have to be away from her at night. Henry even offered to check in on her during the week, and on the bookstore and coffee shop. Ian thanked Henry. Then just before Friday, one of Henry’s vendors dropped out. He was so defeated on the phone, Ian knew he had to put in a favor with some contacts, had them reach out to Henry. When Henry picked Ian up from the bus that Friday, he wasn’t happy about Ian going behind his back to do all that, but he was also grateful for the business. Ian made some quip about them being "in business" together in more ways than one.

Of course, Loraine sent them away by Saturday night. Ian and Henry went out of town for a nice dinner before retiring to Henry’s, where they made the most passionate love ever, and said while it may feel rushed, they both wanted to make it official.

March was around the corner, and then it was March itself. Henry’s parents were coming down for the weekend to help with the store. Ian hadn’t met them yet, was slightly nervous, but also felt good. He and Henry had been every bit adult about their relationship, so this was natural. Besides, Henry was coming with him to New York after the weekend, to spend the week together, and so Henry could meet some of the new vendors. Henry’s parents would arrive Saturday morning, early. Ian was able to "work remote" on Friday so had gotten in the night before, crashing with Henry as Suella was still on shift watching Loraine.

While Henry was doing some prep construction work ahead of the weekend, Ian sat on a couch idling with his computer to appear "online". Otherwise he was helping Henry and learning from him too. They both realized they hadn’t had lunch, so Ian suggested he pop next door to the café. Henry suggested they go to the diner, since Ian hadn’t been recently. Hardly anyone was there so they were seated and served quickly. Once done, strolling along the street, Henry passed a hand up the back of his head, "Feel like I need to get a haircut, especially with mom and dad visiting."

"Are they strict about that sort of thing?"

"Not really," Henry shrugged. "And I thought I didn’t really want it short, but its pretty practical with all the work I’m doing." Ian remembered some of the photos Henry showed him of his worldly travels, with his long hair. And ex-boyfriends and flames of Ian’s said HIS hair was big! Just as he thought this, they happened across the town barber shop. Henry peered his head through the big window, one person in the lone barber’s chair, no one in the waiting area. "This is where I go, well, have gone, only couple times," he laughed. "You mind? I can give you the keys to the store?"

Ian shook his head, "I don’t mind waiting," he touched Henry’s hand. Boy did Ian not mind!

The bell rung over the doorway to announce the boys’ entrance. The barber turned slightly to see them, and flashed a smile. "Henry! Good to see you."

"Afternoon, Nick," Henry nodded, and he pointed to the waiting area to Ian. They took a seat and mildly chatted about the weekend "meet the parents" plans while Nick finished up with his older client, then helped the gentleman out of the chair and shuffle out. Then Nick strutted over to the two of them, extending his hand out to Ian to introduce himself. "Nick, this is Loraine Prendergast’s son, Ian…my boyfriend. Ian, this is Nick, my barber." Ian heard Henry’s hesitation, but totally got it. Ian was pleasantly surprised to find this did not ward off the barber, who firmly shook his hand back like they’d known each other forever. Then Henry followed Nick to the chair.

Ian took it all in: the way Henry easily yet timidly glided into Nick’s throne. That Nick didn’t hesitate to wrap his client up under that sky blue cape that matched his top tunic with black slacks. Ian was on edge as he watched the barber place the tissue wrap around Henry’s throat, gently yet securely. Then he heard Nick launch in: "So, Henry, what are we thinking? I can’t convince you back to that original style I gave you?" at that, Nick slapped his client playfully on both shoulders, letting out a huge chuckle.

"No, Nick, thank you though," Henry got red in the face, Ian could see through the mirror. "I’m okay with where we are now, the cross between that flat but still a bit conservative and simple like a crewcut," Henry patted his overgrown thatch on top.

"I can’t convince you to take the sides down shorter? I know we’ve done a mid-fade, but the bald fade was real nice, son."

"Son? You forget I’m older than you, if not by much," the barber and client laughed. But Henry sighed, "I don’t know, I guess it did look good. And would make it easy to manage too." Then he turned in his seat to look at Ian, "What do you think?"

"Oh I—" Ian was at a loss for words. He, the person in the room with the most hair, felt he had no say in this decision. "I’m sure you’d look great! Spring is coming, too."

"True," Henry nodded, taking it all in, then mulling it over in the mirror. "Okay, we can try it again, but keep the top like I said we’ve been doing it. I know your just itching to give me a wide landing strip, but no thank you, Nick."

"Fine, fine, I’ll take what I can get," the barber said, before turning to his station and picking up a pair of clippers. Ian was glued from the moment the clippers came to Henry’s right side. The sound they made as they plowed up and through his sideburn was glorious. Then seeing the hairs fall down onto the cape, some sliding off onto the floor. Nick repeated this motion again and again more than halfway up Henry’s scalp, going from right side to the back, then the left. As Nick sheared off the back, Ian got a good look at his boyfriend’s shorn nape. Ian was more than turned on. He’d found Henry attractive, inside and out, but this would take things to a whole new level. He started to fantasize what it would feel like tonight when he rubbed his palm against the back of Henry’s head. Ian kept his attention completely on the show before him, as Nick switched out the current pair of clippers for another set, evening out with the help of a comb the different between the bare sides to the bit towards the top. Then, what stunned Ian even more was the third clippers the barber brought out, the noise they sent through the shop! He seemed to be going over what was already shorn down for Henry, but Ian wasn’t one to question. Eventually, Nick moved on to the top, taking clipper over comb and taking Henry’s hair down even shorter. Before Ian knew it, the haircut was finished. Henry was dusted off, and shown the back of his scalp with a handheld mirror. His reaction was priceless, but Henry complimented and thanked Nick.

Henry walked to his boyfriend, rubbing his shorn nape, asking, "Well?"

Ian smiled, "You look amazing, Henry."

"You won’t break up with me then?" Henry teased and they both laughed, before Ian gave him a playful peck. "Alright, I’ve kept you long enough, let’s go."

"Oh, just you today?" Nick asked the couple. He looked at Ian, locking eyes like him with such conviction it nearly knocked Ian off his feet. "Not a problem, maybe next time."

Henry turned to look at Ian, saying, "I mean…if you want? Nick’s really good. But your hair looks good."

"Thanks babe," Ian passed a hand through his thick wave, front to back. "But maybe I could do with a cut. Make a good impression on your parents," he winked.

"Ah, meeting the parents this weekend I take it?" Nick said as Ian walked towards the chair. The moment he sat down, he felt like he was making the biggest mistake ever. "Big deal, I’d say."

"He’ll be great," Henry confirmed. "He is great, I should say." Ian offered a weak smile back through the mirror, just as Nick caped him up. No turning back now.

"So, what are we doing today, sir?" Nick gently combed with his fingers through Ian’s scalp. "Man, I’ve cut a lot of heads in my day…your hair is certainly the best. Well kept, bravo!"

"Thanks! I hit the genetic lottery, I guess, so doing the ‘do proud," Ian laughed.

"Anything you had in mind?" Nick asked. "I can just give you a nice trim. Or take a little bit extra off, like you said, spring is coming…"

Ian stared at himself in the mirror, then his boyfriend, then his soon to be barber. "What would you suggest?" Ian managed to croak out.

Nick let out a loud whistle, "Very wise yet very dangerous question to ask a barber," Nick pawed his fingers again through Ian’s tresses. "To be honest, I don’t want to take advantage of you. I’m not gonna tell you to shave your head off or do something stupid. You have such great hair that I feel like I’m not even worthy of cutting it. This texture though," Nick massaged Ian’s scalp. It took everything in Ian’s will power to not get too turned on in front of both them. "I wanna do something with it, its real nice son."

"Again, we’re older than you," Henry teased from behind. Then he thoughtfully asked, "Baby, do whatever you want. I like your hair as is, but its your hair. I’ll still be into you."

Ian thoughtfully nodded. "Okay," he eeked out. "Okay, uh, yeah," tossing a hand through his sides. "I have been meaning to take the sides down shorter, with clippers maybe. Not the top though, but I guess some of that will have to go so it isn’t so…poofy."

"Works for me," Nick nodded. "How short were we thinking on the sides."

Screw it, Ian thought to himself. He was salivating at Henry’s cut and the thought of touching him tonight. Wouldn’t it be amazing if he could do the same to himself. Staring at his boyfriend in the mirror, the two giving a knowing look, Henry giving a brief nod of the head. "Fine," Ian released from his soul. "Nick, I want you to cut my sides and back like Henry’s. But like we said, let’s keep the waves on top if we can, but maybe cut at least half of it."

"At least half!" Nick jolted with glee. "I’m happy to half it for ya!" With that, similarly to Henry’s cut, he picked up the first pair of clippers. "Gonna be a whole lot more hair than your boyfriend’s when I took his sides down. Just be ready for the shock."

"I’m ready," Ian nodded, and he felt like he was. With such precision and anticipation, Nick pressed the clippers below Ian’s right sideburn. Then, he fired them up, and gently pushed it upwards at first, before then quickly coming away fast. Ian was in awe at the sight before him in the mirror: sheaves of his chocolate brown hair flying up and then down. Repeating this same motion over the same section again. Some clumps pounding onto the cape. Great wads of hair collecting as Ian’s eyes grew twice their natural size. But Ian braved face in the mirror as Nick continued to peel away at just the right side. No one in the shop spoke, Ian could barely catch a glance at Henry, he was zoned in on his evolving look. Not that his hair had been over his ears, but the knowledge and sensation that not even a single strand was touching or around it was both frightening yet releasing. He couldn’t remember the last time it was like this, if ever!

When Nick moved to the back, he murmured, "Head down, please," forcing Ian’s chin to his chest. Before Ian could object or try to raise himself a little higher, Nick’s other hand thrust a fist through the top of his hair. Again, gentle yet firm as he took charge. Then, the clipper slowly guided itself straight up the back. Now Ian had to do his darnest to not let out even a breath, for fear a sigh of ecstasy might escape. Boy oh boy oh boy…Ian was so unfamiliar with this, but it felt like an addiction. In one moment the knowledge that his thick thatch was meeting its demise, falling lifeless to the floor, as if years and years of quality hair care meant nothing. But then no, he still was going to take care of his hair, albeit less of it to look out for, but with a whole new style.

The sound of the clippers plowing through Ian’s hair was the only noise in the barber shop. No one making a move to have conversation. Ian couldn’t be bothered to speak if he wanted to. He felt like his mouth had gone bone dry at the point that his scalp in back totally exposed his occipital bone. That and he was still taking in all the sensations, as Nick moved on to the left side and made quick work of plowing that off as well. Then Nick turned that clipper off and turned to his station. Ian shot a few looks at the cape and floor, absolutely covered! And yet, they weren’t even done as Nick returned with a different pair of clippers, smaller but certainly louder. Nick grazed them all across the scalp that had been sheered to the skin, making quick work of any last bits still hanging. Ian wasn’t sure if he’d have anything left! But maybe, he’d have that shorn look his boyfriend did, the one he was already desiring stroking tonight. Yes—this is what he wanted, truly, to have his own too! No matter how scary it was going to be to see the final result. When Nick completed with this rotation, Ian tried to catch a good look of himself in the mirror. There was a distinct difference between the "poofy" ness on top, and the skin on the sides. Skin!! No denying that he felt.

Nick stood behind Ian with a spray bottle and comb, soaking him down like no tomorrow! Ian had plenty of hair to work with…plenty of hair about to come off. Even if he wanted to say "Not so short", it would be no use. Nick combed front to back, and as relaxing as it felt, it didn’t calm Ian’s nerves when Nick lifted a huge section by comb, beginning the damage. His thick hair was met with loud crunching noises as the sharp steel scissors made gentle yet efficient work across the comb. Wet mounds falling onto the cape, making loud thuds to fill the room’s silence. Even when Nick combed through again, and lifted what felt like the same section, proceeding to cut, more hair still came tumbling down! Ian wasn’t sure the measurement Nick was cutting, seeing as his hair wet proved how long it truly was. But, he had to trust Nick. There truly was no turning back! As more and more hair came off, Ian relaxed into the seat. He swore Nick smirked at this.

When Nick finally stepped away for a moment, no longer tugging and combing and snipping away at Ian’s crown, Ian felt ten pounds lighter. Even with his thick waves still covering his noggin, albeit way shorter, Ian thought a light breeze from outside would chill him to the bone. Possibly also because of the shaved sides as well. Ian lifted a hand briefly from under the cape, grazing his fingertips across the back, stunned by the sensation. When Nick turned back around, Ian had just stuffed his hand back under. Nick put some sort of oil or spray thing into the short hairs on top. As Nick sifted his hands through it, Ian could get a true sense of just how short it would be. Nick combed it all back, the waves shinning and coming through, still just as distinct as ever, no matter how short they had been taken. When Nick brought the handheld mirror behind Ian’s hair, Ian jumped in his seat. Woah! Sure he’d felt how tight it was back there, but to see the actual result was something else. Stunned for words, he remained silent.

"I know it’s a bit of a shock," Nick said, "but, you look incredible Ian."

"Well…" Ian now tapped the top of his head. This was going to feel weird in the shower too. "I am not going to disagree there…its just….well, its different."

"But different can be good," Nick said. "Sometimes a change is just what the doctor prescribed."

Ian couldn’t help but blush at that, moving his head to the side to get a glimpse of Henry still seated, smiling back at him. "You’ve got that right, Nick." Finally, they were done and Ian was dusted off. Nick swatted him off, saying first cut was on him, but Ian still tipped him handsomely. Saying he figured he’d be back soon enough. Then he and Henry stepped outside. Henry felt the back of Ian’s head. This sensation was the best yet, his boyfriend feeling his shorn nape, then halfway up his skull. Ian couldn’t help himself but pulled Henry into the dark alley just over. He kissed him fiercely, and felt up Ian’s faded sides too. They only kissed a moment longer before laughing into each others’ mouths. "I take it you like it?"

Henry nodded, "Yeah…you look great," and he pecked Ian back. Before they got caught by someone, hand-in-hand, they strolled off to Henry’s car to head back to Loraine’s for dinner. She was stunned by the "strangers" at her door. Ian was nervous his mother wouldn’t like the new look, but she didn’t care. Truly, she only cared that Ian was happy, (and to see if before she left this earth), and happy with the one he was learning to love. Which he was doing, as he and Henry retired to Henry’s for the night, for some more passionate love, into the early hours of the next morning. Throughout their games, stroking each others scalps up and down. Oh yes, Ian was comfortable with this. This new look, and perhaps, this new life he was embarking on. Ian knew it felt strange, so sudden, but it felt right. It felt good. Being here, helping Loraine, and helping Henry. Partners in love, partners in life, and perhaps partners in business. This was the start of something great. Ian was all in on helping Henry with his new business venture. For one thing, Ian felt Henry was already helping him in life.

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