A Rock and Family Vacation

[9]

Brooke wished that they had cut the hair in the line of sight of the phone as additional evidence, but she somehow suspected that someone somewhere, or especially someone of authority would just dismiss it as another piece of an Internet parlor trick. She wasn’t going to try to trim her middle child’s hair again, just to see even more fill its place. Lacy let the shears clang against the floor for dramatic effect but begrudgingly picked them up again to hand to her mom.

“You’re not cursed. We don’t know what this is, but we’ll figure it out and you’ll have your hair the way you want. I need to grab some things from my bag. You carefully watch your brother, as I know you can do. We’ll get through this.”

Lacy wanted to wallow there on the floor, all crumpled up, but she gradually got to her feet and sat near Blair while checking the phone and the angle. At this point, the changes had flowed to his arms and hands. Blair rather prided himself on the paddle-like swath of his palms.

They retained his lightly-tanned tone while being comparable to Brooke’s. His body, in those now-oversized clothes, sprawled out across less of the couch. Brooke noticed that Blair‘s clothes were starting to slip, and Lacy seemed aware of it as well but neither went over to that end of the couch to adjust them.

It actually took more searching to get what she needed this time than simply looking for the shears. So much of their stuff was scattered across the bathrooms, the bedrooms, and the closets. Fortunately, she found exactly what she needed in the master bedroom and Clare’s bedroom. She had given her some hair ties when they went out, but this would require a little bit more. Using one of the spare shopping bags, she grabbed hair gel, some brushes, and a little bit of spray along with the sturdiest ties she had.

Lacy had always been difficult and fussy when it came to his hair. He would put it back with a rubber band or twist it into something awkward and that was usually the most he wanted to deal with it. Moving into junior high did help somewhat with stray comments by girls about who had better and worse hair. But all that really did was introduce him to the basics of gel and hairspray.

That foundation helped as she showed everything, and Lacy didn’t panic. For the plan of action, Brooke pulled up a page from her phone that detailed all the steps for extra-long children’s hair. She wasn’t missing anything. It did recommend showering and other little touches, but there was no way Lacy would approve. Instead, she tried a different method.

Firstly, she brushed out any tangles. Lacy distracted herself by keeping her attention on her older brother. His face appeared completely transformed. Brooke felt immense relief that at least her eldest hadn’t inherited her weird, puffy lips as well. Next, she rubbed some gel around the tips and through the middle of Lacy’s hair by running it through her fingers. The amount of rocking and flinching she did to the sensation and smell wasn’t helpful, but Brooke resisted the urge to scold her about it.

After that, she brought it up and together into a rough ponytail. Lacy couldn’t resist peering over her shoulder and scrutinizing what on earth her mom was doing. Brooke urged her to focus on her brother with her head forward and her arms down.

The next step was making a little bun and then vigorously winding up the tail. This appeared to freak out Lacy, as she gripped the sides of the chair but didn’t say anything. After securing it with the hair tie, Brooke dabbed it with hair gel again and sprayed a little hairspray to make sure it wouldn’t fall apart. She tugged gently at the edges and adjusted some of the small hairs so that the end was covered, and it all didn’t pull too hard on her scalp. Brooke knew bad hair care all too well.

Her father suggested she keep her hair quite long and discouraged cuts. Brooke retaliated by trying to hide it as short and high as possible. Unfortunately, she would always tighten it until it hurt and wouldn’t come loose. Vicious, pulsing headaches soon followed.

Attentively, she made sure it was comfortable for Lacy. Of course, Lacy soon fussed with it and ran through a gamut of different expressions. She stretched her head a few different ways before resolving, “It feels super freaking weird, but it doesn’t hurt.”

Cautiously, like a cat knowing the evil vet is nearby, she approached the still-open closet to inspect her mother’s work in the mirror. She didn’t appear pleased with the way that her locks puffed out around her head from the bun at the back. Lacy muttered, “It looks like a hair pastry. And super girly. But, I guess, it’ll have to do.”

For the briefest of moments, like the sun poking through a mass of silvery clouds, Brooke caught the glimpse of a stray smile on Lacy‘s face. When she blinked, it had returned to a flat, dour frown. But she knew that it happened. Not enough to interpret one way or the other, but she felt pleased that her child seemed alright with something she had been able to do for her.

——

“This isn’t some sort of mid-level marketing deal, is it? I’m quite busy with family matters.”

“I don’t know what that is. But I do know the Cerberus Initiative is dedicated to bringing people and possibilities together. Resolute in absolute certainty in our uncertain world. Reducing the way that we spread ourselves thinly across so many different choices and integrating them into a greater whole…”

Eliot could absolutely read the marketing speak on the wall. “Do you have a brochure I can look through?”

At that moment, it appeared as though the strange man just realized that he had a table in front of them that should’ve contained fliers or information to give away. “Afraid not. But I can pass along some vital information. Have you seen or encountered any strange rocks in the area?”

Clare shifted over and grabbed Eliot‘s right hand to urge him toward their pizzeria destination. “Daddy? We should hurry because…my brothers.”

That one question struck Eliot like a bolt of lightning. It was bewildering and bizarre. He didn’t know what to say. Out of all the things that this weird, lanky man could’ve asked, why rocks? Sure, there was no shortage of random rocks along the seaside, as Clare was excited to investigate for extra credit. But why not sand, why not fish, why not crabs, why not ask anything but specifically rocks? He knew about coincidence and narratives, and this didn’t feel like coincidence.

However, tracing that thought also made him tighten up and grip Clare’s hand firmly. “In a moment, sweetie. I just wanted to clear something up…. what about rocks?”

The man who called himself Carren Cross leaned back in the rudimentary chair situated behind his flimsy folding table. “Simply inquiring. Rocks are just rocks, after all. Unless they aren’t. I suspect there are some very strange ones in this area. If you happen to come across some truly strange rocks, I would be quite interested in examining them… scientifically. The Cerberus Initiative would benefit greatly and provide solutions if you run into problems with one of these objects.”

Clare put plenty of distance between herself and this strange man but still remained close to her father. “I’m Eliot Shore. We’re over at a… nearby beach house. We have run across a few strange things. You said your name was Karen?”

“Oh, yes like the lady’s name. Spelled C-A-R-R-E-N though. And Cross for the last name, spelled like you would think, biblically.” Eliot took that down on his phone and then heard as the man added, “Well, shoot.”

A pair of stocky older men wearing field green uniforms with double pockets and gold stars on their lapels approached them. The nearly bald one pointed the end of a flashlight at Carren and asked Eliot, “Well now, this gentleman bothering you folks? I don’t think he registered for a booth, and we have a no-solicitation ordinance.“

Meekly, the dark-suited gentleman folded up his table and dipped his head. “My apologies. I only wished to pass along some information. Good day to you all.” The stranger didn’t quite run, but he definitely hustled as quickly as possible with his table.

The man with stringy gray hair and thick glasses gave a little wave at Clare and asked, “You alright, little miss? The man didn’t bother you or anything?”

Clare dipped her head at first, as though weighing her feelings. “He sort of bothered me, but it’s okay. My daddy is here.”

The gray-haired man frowned and glanced at the other one. They shared a quiet look before the balding one asked, “You renting the house just up the way?”

Eliot moved closer to his daughter, feeling like, even though they’d gotten rid of the strange gentleman at the table, this pair was equally odd. “We’re vacationing. Just the two of us. And our three enormous dogs. Rottweiler, husky, and Great Dane. They’re really hungry right now, I bet. Very protective of my daughter. So, we better be going.”

A hot, furious part of him wanted to add that he was a retired Marine who loved armor-piercing rounds. But it was clear the two of them got the hint. “That’s good. Keep safe. I hope you enjoy your stay at Pinckney Point, the friendliest place along the Carolina coast. Happy to have you here.” They soon started walking back the way they came, which was not towards the main boardwalk area.

Once they were gone, Clare questioned, “Why did you lie to them, daddy? Were those bad guys?” She fussed with and adjusted her dress as the wind picked up and several dense clouds gathered overhead. Eliot led his daughter to an area with a small, colorful windbreak before answering with a sigh, “I don’t know. But they were asking a lot of questions about us, and you’ve got to be careful when you’re in an unfamiliar place, alright? Come on.”

The pizza place was further than they’d been before, just past the crab shack. The exterior had pristine white siding with a brown roof vigorously splashed by the leavings of seagulls. Several of those perpetrators lingered around the scene of the crime. The building was long but narrow, facing the waves. A modest dining area looked fancy on the inside with polished tan walls. Eliot got a feeling more like being aboard a ship, especially with the lighting.

The kitchen and cash wrap at the front looked practically identical to every pizzeria Eliot had ever known. Bulky men with dense facial hair raced back and forth as though their feet were on coals, turning sheets of cardboard into pizza boxes, flipping and shifting pasta pots as living bellows of steam swarmed and swamped the air with heat.

After accepting a black and white paper menu printed on both sides from a teenage girl in a brown apron with bright pink nails who worked the register, Eliot paused a moment to ask her, “We ran into some security guards in green uniforms on the way here. At least, I think they were security guards.“

The girl scrunched up her brow and folded her arms in front of her before yelling something to a man in the back. Some back-and-forth followed before the girl returned her attention to Eliot and pronounced, “There’s no security folk around here. We take care of it ourselves. You said you saw some guys in green uniforms?”

Eliot confirmed that, and she shook her head. “Local PD wears tan silver and big broad hats. Town sheriff is Raymond Cadell. Makes sure no one takes advantage of visitors. Let me give you his number.” Eliot accepted the note she wrote and took a photo of it to save digitally.

He thanked the young woman and seriously considered calling. She looked over at Clare and smiled a quick smile. “That is like the coolest dress.“

To this, Clare looked down at herself, like she had forgotten what she was wearing. She politely thanked the girl and informed her that she also looked “really pretty”. She laughed and dusted off her apron before conceding, “I’ve looked better. But thanks.”

[I have a question at the end of the chapter again to help with suggestions for where the story should go. I'm a couple chapters ahead but I love seeding ideas from people as much as possible. Feel free to add an idea which doesn't show up in the options. Thank you for reading!]

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