The Pine Ridge Barber-Part 5 by Kaleb McKinley

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Years ago, 2017, to be exact, I had written a series of stories about Brunhilda, the brutal barber of Pine Ridge. For a variety of reasons, I stopped posting. Recently, I was going through old and deleting or archiving when I came across two additional chapters that I had written but never published. I decided to put them here for the readers who had previously expressed an interest in the series, assuming you guys are still on the site. Here are two chapters that I combined into one:
Pine Ridge Barber-Part 5: The Shave and a Surprise Haircut

I got the feeling that although Brunhilda was a hard-nosed woman, she seemed to like and trust me. I was enamored of her barbering style, her forcefulness and the way she conducted business in her barber shop. I wondered how I could be a part of this action every day. Then, a wonderful idea hit me. Earlier, she had mentioned in conversation with the sign installers that the plate glass window had been broken by someone with a jacked-up four wheel drive pick-up truck. At 2am a couple of days prior, the truck had flung a rock while the driver was purposely spinning his tires on the street. It was only partially caught on video from the dry cleaner’s front door security camera. Brunhilda indicated that she would like to get her hands on that young man. I imagine he would have hell to pay. That brings me back to my idea. I figured I would offer to install a couple of security cameras in Brunhilda’s shop. Of course, I would provide the best with high quality audio and video and I would do this at my expense. If she was agreeable, I could log in via the internet and see and hear the cutting and shaving action on my big screen monitor in my back office. My plan was perfect. To some degree unethical, yes, but perfect to satisfy my incredible need to witness the shearing in a front row seat from the comfort of my office.

Outside, the tow truck driver was hooking up the small vehicle and Brunhilda was conversing with the dry cleaner who appeared to be very nervous. I got the distinct feeling that he was a very anxious man and found ol’ Bertha a bit intimidating. I could understand that. If you wouldn’t know her, you would assume she was a social butterfly. She was chatting with the tow truck operator, the lady who was involved in the accident and the cop who was working the scene.

She pointed at someone, but I could not see who. Then, she shook her head and pointed at her barber shop as she began to walk across the street. Entering, she ignored me. Not in a mean-spirited way, but more in a manner of someone who was preoccupied with another thought. I felt like an insignificant bystander, a bit out of place. I didn’t know how long I could sit there and pretend to work. The fact was that the virus scan was ninety-seven percent complete. I would soon have to return to my office and leave the surreal experience of a barber shop where the barber dictates the outcome of each haircut. Her shop, her chair, her choice. I got the sort of sad feeling you get when you reach the end of a great movie. You don’t want it to end. You want an immediate sequel so you can continue enjoying something you love.

The lady barber of Pine Ridge was facing the mirror behind the backbar now as she cleaned and oiled her big Oster 76s. She glanced out of the window and then back at her work. By the deep breath she took, she seemed as though she was becoming exasperated. My level of discomfort grew just a bit, but my level of intrigue outweighed my fear. Turning again to the window, her view of the street lingered a bit longer this time. Her latest sigh was more pronounced this time and with a motion so quick it took me aback, she rotated the big Koken barber chair to face the large plate glass window looking out onto Main Street. Suddenly, the cape with the print of a rustic American flag that had been draped over Billy, the electric lineman, was pulled with brute force by Brunhilda from its resting place on the right arm of the chair. No, there was no doubt that she was aggravated, as you might be if you were waiting on a friend who was running late and causing you an inconvenience.

She took a few steps and tossed the cape into a hamper on the side of the backbar. Opening the cabinet behind the second, unused barber chair that was an identical match to hers, she retrieved a fresh cape, a traditional white one with red stripes that after she covered her next customer with it would stand in sharp contrast to the black leather and dull chrome of the barber chair. Rather than toss it onto the chair, she hung it over her right forearm and stood at the window glaring out upon the now freely moving traffic of probably the busiest road in the small town of Pine Ridge. The tow truck lurched forward as it moved into the left lane and disappeared down the street with the wrecked car wobbling behind it. The only signs that anything had happened was a bit of finely crushed glass near the center of the street and the cop car on the right side of the road near my office. The strobes of blue light emanating from the light bar on top of the police cruiser abruptly ceased and the lady who had been in the accident was getting into the car of someone I presume is a friend or co-worker.

Suddenly, Brunhilda spotted someone that I couldn’t see from my vantage point. "It’s about time", she growled as she gave me quick glance. "Patience is not my strong point." As I looked toward the door, I saw who Brunhilda was waiting for so impatiently.

My heart began to race. I couldn’t believe my eyes or my luck that day. The man Brunhilda had been edgily waiting for was a Pine Ridge police officer and he was heading straight for the barber shop door. He keyed up his radio mic that was attached to his shirt near his left shoulder and said something to headquarters. The same officer who handled the accident minutes earlier was now stepping onto the sidewalk and about to enter Bertha’s Barber Shop. I don‘t know if he knew it or not, but he was going to tangle with a woman who was probably tougher than a lot of the bad guys he deals with on the job.

His face had what could best be described as a frown, but in reality was a look of impatience and annoyance. My best advice for him would be to lose the attitude.

He was a man of slightly above average height and build, probably near six feet with a nice width to his shoulders, but not excessively big. His biceps filled his short shirt sleeves without looking like they were going to burst through the seams. In my best estimation, this hunk of law enforcement manliness was between 38 and 40 years old and somewhere in the ballpark of one hundred ninety and two hundred pounds. He was good looking, to be sure. His uniform, although he had been on shift for several hours, was still fairly neat, his shirt tucked tightly into his pants. His bullet proof vest made his manly chest appear even thicker and the heat-induced sweat made his pant legs cling closely near his crotch. His duty belt added some bulk around his perfectly shaped hips and I imagined that the big gun on his side matched the one in his pants. As a man struggling with my sexuality, how I longed for him to unholster the weapon he had concealed.

My eyes moved from the bulge in the front of his dark blue uniform trousers, down his legs and coming to rest on his black tactical duty boots. The side zippers made it easy to pull them off or slip them on if getting out of his pants or back into them, for that matter, was necessary in a quick and timely way. The cop’s dark brown hair didn’t appear to need a cut since I assume it had probably only been clipped a week or so prior to this visit to the most domineering barber I’ve ever seen, men barbers included. It was tightly tapered on the sides and I assume the back was much the same. As he reached for the door, Brunhilda took a step back, positioning her large frame on the right side of her 1940s barber chair, which was still looking out onto Main Street.

As he pushed the door open, the cool breeze of the air conditioning in the shop contrasted with the hot, humid afternoon air of a fairly beautiful day in late May. The officer had no sooner set foot across the threshold when Brunhilda’s voice rang out, "Have a seat!" and, with that command, she laid the cape near the sink and reached for a clean, white towel to wrap around the handsome officer’s neck. She had spoken and she expected obedience. She was ready to begin her work.

The cop, apparently unaware that police status in this barber shop meant nothing to the proprietor of this male clip joint, stated matter-of-factly with a somewhat annoyed tone, "Look, ma’am, as I explained out there, I don’t have time to…"

She cut him off before he could finish. "SIT!" her gravelly, authoritarian voice made his blood run cold and I saw he was visibly shocked, his head pulling back slightly, indicating his disbelief. I felt a chill run down my spine. I can’t even describe my feelings, except to say overwhelmed and slightly light-headed. I didn’t even care that I was staring and I didn’t try to conceal it. My mouth, slightly gaped, was dry and I couldn’t swallow. Her look was one that dared defiance. She reached out with her left foot and flipped over the footrest. Turning to the backbar, she pointed at the seat of chair. With a sullen look, the cop slipped into the big, old barber chair. There was no turning back now. Of course, as soon as he stepped into the barber shop, there was no escaping his fate. He planted his feet on top of the upturned footrest. With the length of his legs, it caused his knees to buckle up and his legs to spread open, displaying his crotch and its subsequent bulge to every passer-by, male and female, who happened to be walking by the shop. For a guy like me it was a real red letter day, indeed.

As Brunhilda turned around, she made a motion with her hand in the direction of his feet indicating that he was to stretch his legs over the padded side of the footrest. He did was told without saying a word. With the position of both the headrest and the footrest, I knew instantly that she intended to shave this cop’s face. He was a bit stubbly, but nothing excessive. I wondered why she had reversed order and done a shave before the haircut.

Just then, her voice cut through, "Did you radio in and tell them you were going on break?", she asked dryly. "Yes" came his response, his voice sounding much more subdued and morose than it was when he first tried to resist the old lady barber. "Good", she said. "This won’t take long. I can’t believe that Chief Daniels would let an officer have stubble while on duty." The cop tried to defend himself by saying it was just one day’s stubble and he had worked overtime the last two days and didn’t have time to shave this morning. Brunhilda was having none of it. "When I saw you working that accident with such stubble on your face, I knew you had to be shaved. So, here we are. You didn’t have time this morning, but I just made some time this afternoon."

As she was chastising him for neglecting to shave, she draped a small towel across his chest and tucked the ends firmly into his collar. After making sure the towel was tucked to her liking, she turned on her heels and, without a word, walked to the back room of the shop. I could hear her moving around back there, but I had no idea what she was doing. I noticed that she had not placed a cape over the officer. I was certainly happy about that. This was an unexpected opportunity that would allow me to continue to view the cop’s bulge while he is reclined and, even though Brunhilda is an old woman with zero sex appeal, it has been my experience that sometimes a man will rise to the occasion despite who might be handling the razor. I was delighted that I would have a front row seat.

The officer’s radio squawked out some police jargon that I couldn’t understand. A female voice said something that sounded like ten twenty and after a short burst of static, a male voice responded with a very clear "ten twenty-three". The cop instantly reached down to the radio on his side and lowered the volume significantly. Now, I could barely hear radio traffic between officers and their headquarters.

A lady who appeared to be in her late twenties was walking briskly down the sidewalk. The woman smiled and nodded at the officer and he quickly nodded back and looked down. Suddenly, the woman stopped short, turned around and pushed the door open, stepping into the barber shop. She looked directly at the policeman and said, "Officer Keegan?" The cop turned his head to see the woman. "You probably don’t remember me, but my name is Robin. I have a daughter, Madison. You were the officer who responded to a wreck she and I were in last year." A vague look of familiarity flashed across the stud cop’s face, but it was overshadowed by his strong desire to get out of the barber chair and free himself from the shaving plans of the Pine Ridge barber. "You were so nice and you gave Maddy a bear that you had in the trunk of your car. She still has it." Officer Keegan gave a half-hearted smile and a nod. "I remember", he stated plainly. The officer temporarily forgot his plight and his eyes softened. "I’m glad she liked it."

"Thank you, Officer Keegan", Robin said sincerely. Still looking down slightly, he said matter-of-factly, "Just call me Kade". He looked up at the woman and started to say something else, but just then we all heard Brunhilda tromping back to the front of the shop. The cop instantly shut up and his subdued demeanor returned. Robin appeared surprised and Officer Keegan appeared concerned that he would be reprimanded by the old lady.

"All this chit-chat will have to wait." Brunhilda inserted herself dominantly into the conversation, as she apparently always did. With a chuckle, she barked, "You can stay, but you’ll have to do all the talking young lady. This man has an appointment with my razor." With that, Brunhilda grabbed a tight hold on the chair’s lever and pumped up the cop to the maximum height the chair would allow. Through all of this, Robin seemed a bit taken aback, but she was taking in the whole scene. The old lady barber leaned in close to the cop’s right ear and whispered something that gave me chills. "Relax." With reflexes as quick as lightning, the mechanism released and with a thud and a bounce, Officer Keegan was flat on his back.

-Part 6 brings the shave and a haircut surprise for unfortunate officer.

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