Chasing Forever Down (Great White Surf Saga, #1) [Wattpad Featured Story] | ✔

Chapter 3: 3108 Locust Street

The never-ending road turns to gravel, and I almost lose all hope just short of seeing the sign that reads Stella's Salon, 3 Miles. Linzi reminds me to let off the accelerator because the last thing we need is a speeding ticket from a hick town deputy, especially since our parents think we're in Nashville right now. These are the longest three miles of my life.

We pull up in front of a small white boutique with a cow pasture. There's an old red barn in the distance, and I struggle to believe that Spence Burks would show up here. Still, that gum-covered receipt says otherwise.

Linzi hesitates as to whether she should knock on the front door, but since it's a business, she invites herself in. The ding above the door and a sea of cow print welcomes us. From the countertops to the curtains to the hairdryers, black and white cow patterns dominate the room. It smells like cheap hairspray, and I taste it when I inhale.

A lady who's probably my mom's age walks out of a back room with a beehive of bleached hair teetering on her head. Her apron is – no surprise – cow print.

"And what can I do for you lovely little ladies?" she asks.

Linzi snaps into CSI mode.

"I was hoping you could give me a little information. I'm trying to find someone who I believe was here within the last week," she says in her serious voice.

The lady crosses her arms.

"Well honey, if they came in here, I'll sure bet you I saw 'em. I'm Stella, and I remember every person who walks through my door. Have a seat," she says.

Stella points to the spinning chairs. "So," she says, "tell me about this guy."

I sit down but instantly lean forward in my chair. "How'd you know it was a guy?"

She waves away my ridiculous question with her hand and laughs. "Believe it or not, I've been a teenage girl before. So, spill it. Who ya looking for?"

Linzi does the unthinkable and pulls the Ziploc bag from her purse. She swore the "evidence" had to be concealed or else it could be comprised.

"This receipt is dated..." She stops midsentence and turns the bag in different directions trying to make out the date through the green gum.

"It's from last week," she says, sticking the bag back into her purse.

I fall back into the chair.

"He came in a blonde and left with jet black hair," I say, hoping this will be an uncommon enough occurrence to trigger a memory of him.

Stella buries her face into her hands.

"Oh God, yes, I know who you're talking about," she says. "Such a nice-looking young man. Most gorgeous blonde hair I've ever seen. I tell ya, people bleach and dye and spend years trying to get that sun-kissed sparkle, and if he didn't walk in with it and want to cover it up."

It's more than obvious that Stella is one of those who has spent years trying to get that sun-kissed sparkle just right. Her hair is more of a fried honey color, though.

"Did he say why he wanted to dye it?" Linzi asks.

She scribbles something in the little pink notebook she brought along for her CSI mission.

"No," Stella says. "But I told him no one would recognize him anymore, and he said that was exactly the point."

So he was in disguise! He didn't want to be recognized, but that still doesn't explain why he faked his death or came back and snuck me away from a party with him. If anything, it just raises more questions.