Patricia was at her station, rolling the hair of Barbara Cormier, one of the stuffy old women who ran herd over all the local Baptist church events, making them pretty much miserable for everyone. Marina’s mother used to have a go at her every time she had an opportunity, just for sport. When she’d finally gotten her mother into the assisted living center, the old crow had the nerve to tell Marina that she was glad she’d finally seen fit to lock the “menace” away. It had taken all the energy Marina could muster to keep walking and not respond. It was one thing for Marina to call her mother a menace. It was completely another for Barbara Cormier to do it.

Both Patricia and Barbara frowned at her as she walked in. Marina’s ten o’clock appointment sat in Helen’s chair, her flaming red hair dripping onto the collar of her blouse. Helen froze as soon as she saw her. Ms. Kitty, the client, turned in the chair and gave Patricia a look that should have turned her to stone. Ms. Kitty was sixty years old and had owned and managed the local honky-tonk for thirty-five years. She did not suffer fools.

“I thought you said Marina wasn’t coming in today,” Ms. Kitty said.

“I said I needed a day,” Marina said, giving Patricia a hard stare, “and that’s what I took. Surely you can still count to one.”

A blush ran up Patricia’s neck and onto her face, and Marina could tell her words and tone were completely unexpected and had angered the salon owner. Patricia sputtered a bit, then collected herself.

“With everything that has happened, I assumed you’d need more time to get your life together,” Patricia said.

“You mean ‘everything’ like catching your slutty niece in bed with my husband? That kind of ‘everything’?”

Patricia’s eyes widened and the color fled from her face.

Barbara glared at her. “Normally, I would say your mother raised you better when I hear a comment like that but in this case, it would be a lie.”

“You’re right,” Marina said. “My mother raised me to believe that most people were assholes who were out to get me. Guess what? Turns out the crazy woman had it right.”

“‘Crazy’ is a relative term,” Ms. Kitty said.

Patricia cleared her throat, clearly trying to regain control. “I don’t think your kind of talk is appropriate, especially to me. That’s my family you’re talking about.”

Marina shrugged. “I don’t think it’s appropriate that half the men in town and at least one woman—me—has seen her privates. The fact that she’s your family is unfortunate, but not my problem.”

Ms. Kitty burst out laughing, giant tears streaming down her face. “Maybe there’s a flaw with the genetics. You know, some behaviors are inherited.”

Rage flashed across Patricia’s face.

“I won’t stand for this,” she said.

Marina smiled. “Then sit down, because I’m not about to shut up.”

My God, Marina thought, that felt great. Why had she waited so long to do it?