White Night (The Dresden Files #9) - Jim Butcher Page 0,166

met mine. "And there's no chance I'm going to lose control of myself. They're safe." He shrugged a shoulder. "They just enjoy it."

I watched the woman who'd been under the hair dryer come out, smile at Thomas, and pick up a cup of coffee on the way out. She looked… well, radiant, really. Confident. She looked like she felt sexy and beautiful, and it was quite pleasant to watch her move while she did.

Thomas watched her go with what I recognized as his look of quiet possession and pride. "They enjoy it a lot." He gave me one of his brief, swift grins. "I imagine there's a lot of husbands and boyfriends enjoying it, too."

"But they're addicted to it, I'd imagine."

He shrugged again. "Some, maybe. I try to spread myself around as much as I can. It isn't a perfect solution—"

"But it's the one you've got," I said. I frowned. "What happens when you try to wash somebody's hair and it turns out that they're in love? Protected?"

"True love isn't as common as you'd think," Thomas said. "Especially among people rich enough to afford me and superficial enough to think that it is money well spent."

"But when they do show?" I asked.

"That's why I've got all the hired help, man. I know what I'm doing."

I shook my head. "All this time and…" I snorted and sipped at some coffee. It was amazing. Smooth and rich and just sweet enough, and it probably cost more than a whole fast-food meal. "They all think I'm your lover, don't they."

"This is a trendy, upper-class boutique, Harry. No one expects a man with a place like this to be straight."

"Uh-huh. And the accent, Toe-moss?"

He smiled. "No one would pay that much money to an American stylist. Please." He shrugged. "It's superficial and silly, but true." He glanced around, suddenly self-conscious. His voice lowered, and his accent dropped. "Look. I know it's a lot to ask…"

It was an effort not to laugh at him, but I managed to give him a hard look, sigh, and say, "Your secret is safe with me."

He looked relieved. " Merci ."

"Hey," I said. "Can you stop by my place tonight after work? I'm putting something together that might help people if someone else starts something like those White Court bozos just tried. I thought maybe you'd want to be in on it."

"Um, yeah. Yeah, we can talk about it."

I sipped more coffee. "Maybe Justine could help, too. Might be a way to get her out, if you want to do it."

"Are you kidding?" Thomas asked. "She's been working for a year to get closer to Lara."

I blinked up at him. "Hell's bells, I thought she was acting weird," I said. "She came on all zonked out, like the mindless party girl, but she dropped it a couple of times, where I could see. I just put it down to, well. Weirdness."

He shook his head. "She's been getting information to me. Nothing huge, so far."

"Does Lara know about her?"

Thomas shook his head. "She hasn't tipped to it yet. Justine is, as far as Lara is concerned, still one more helpless little doe." He glanced up. "I talked it over with her. She wants to stay. She's Lara's assistant, most of the time."

I exhaled slowly. Holy crap. If Justine stayed in place, and was willing to report on what she knew… intelligence gathered at that level could turn the entire course of the war—because even if the White Court's peace proposal went through, it just meant a shift in focus and strategy. The vamps weren't about to let up.

"Dangerous," I said quietly.

"She wants to do it," he said.

I shook my head. "I take it you've been in touch with Lara?"

"Of course," Thomas said. "Given my recent heroism"—his voice turned wry—"in defense of the White King, I am now in favor in the Court. The prodigal son has been welcomed home with open arms."

"Really?"

"Well," Thomas amended, "with reluctant, irritated arms, anyway. Lara's miffed about the Deeps."

"Guess the bombs weren't good for them."

Thomas's teeth showed. "The whole place just collapsed in on itself. There's a huge hole in the ground, the plumbing at the manor got torn up, and the foundation cracked. It's going to cost a fortune to fix it."

"Poor Lara," I said. "No more convenient corpse-disposal facilities."

He laughed. "It's nice to see her exasperated. She's usually so self-assured."

"I have a gift."

He nodded. "You do." We sat quietly for a few minutes.

"Thomas," I said, finally, gesturing at the room. "Why didn't your tell me about this?"

He shrugged and looked down. "At first? Because it was humiliating. I mean… working nights to put myself through cosmetology school? Starting my own place and posing as…" He waved a hand down at himself. "I thought… I don't know. At first I thought you'd disapprove or… laugh at me or something."

I kept a straight face. "No. Never."

"And after that… well. I'd been keeping secrets. I didn't want you to think I didn't trust you."

I snorted. "In other words you didn't trust me. To understand."

His cheeks turned very slightly pink and he looked down. "Um. I guess so, yeah. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

He closed his eyes and nodded and said, "Thanks, Harry."

I put a hand on his shoulder for a second, then dropped it again. Nothing else needed to be said.

Thomas gave me a suspicious look. "Now you're going to laugh at me."

"I can wait until you've turned your back, if you like."

He grinned at me again. "It's all right. I sort of stopped caring about it after I got fed steady for a few weeks straight. Feels too nice not to be starving again. Laugh all you want."

I looked around the place for a minute more. The coffee girls were having a private conversation, evidently discussing us, if all the covert glances and quiet little smiles were any indication.

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing, and it felt good.