I enjoyed my work. Gran had let me dye her hair from a young age, and I’d had fun with it. I liked the challenge when someone brought me in a picture to recreate, as long as their expectations were reasonable. I loved the social aspect and being somewhat in charge of my own schedule. Working with different types of people kept me on my toes, and renting my own chair at Miranda’s salon was kind of like running my own small business. I posted on social media, got my own clients, managed my own bookings. Way better than working for that asshat, Clinton.
I cringed just thinking about him. Hopefully I’d never see the guy again. My outburst was just as embarrassing as it had been cathartic.
“What’s eating you?” Jackson asked. His client had just vacated his chair and now he was sweeping up the surrounding area.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I said, which was true. Objectively Iwasfine. Not great. Not good. Not amazing. Not terrible. Fine. I was making it through.
“Ruby’s brother not bringing any optimism to your current predicament?” he asked in a low voice. He jerked hisgaze to where Ruby was at the front, laughing while concentrating on trimming a client’s bangs.
I rolled my eyes. He was such a gossip.
“Reid is great,” I said. “He’s the only thing giving me an iota of hope about the crappy situation. But it’sstilla crappy situation. I thought I’d be booking myself a little vacation by now to celebrate my turn of events. Now I might be catless and penniless.”
“Well, you’re not really a cat person anyway.”
I gawked at him. “I’m a Vermont person. I can’t believe you’d say that to me. He was my grandmother’s.”
“I know, I know.” Jackson waved off my obvious offense. “I’m just saying, were you really going to take care of a cat for the rest of its life? They can live to, like, twenty.”
“Good. That’ll be twenty years longer than anyone else has stayed in my life,” I mumbled, turning away from Jackson. I liked him, I really did. But no one would ever accuse him of being too empathetic.
“Don’t go feeling sorry for yourself.” Jackson came around to my station and guided me to my chair. He placed his hands on my shoulders and forced me to sit. He started pulling up pieces of my long brown hair and examining them. “Have you ever thought about a different color? Or bangs?”
“Uh, what are you doing?” Natalie scurried over from across the aisle, eyes wide. “Hazel, now might not be a good time for a change.”
“Don’t look so worried,” Jackson said, grabbing a spray bottle off his station.
“I’m just saying. A time of great stress is not the best time to be making hair decisions.” Natalie bit her full lip and looked back and forth between the two of us.
“Some would argue it’s actually the best time. Besides, Hazel has really let herself go this past month. She’s looking shaggy.”
“Thanks.” My voice came out dry. Even in my stupor, I still found the energy to be insulted. I didn’t think my hair wasthatbad. Sure, it could use a trim, but so what if I had been neglecting my appearance ever-so-slightly? I did have other things going on.
“May I?” Jackson asked, holding up his scissors.
I sighed, relenting. “Just a trim. Nothing drastic.”
Natalie was sweet, trying to make sure I didn’t make some giant hair mistake right now, like cutting a pixie on my too-round face. But I didn’t care. Who the hell was I trying to impress? I hadn’t been on a date in ages, and I seriously doubted anyone would be asking me out any time soon. Besides, it was just hair. It’d grow back.
“You’re sure?” Natalie looked horrified as Jackson sprayed my hair down with water.
I shrugged. “I could use a change.”
Natalie sighed. “Famous last words.”
EIGHT
Reid
WhiteKnight31: No luck on tracing the phone number. Looks like they’re using one of those free-number services.
ReidingRainbow: I figured as much. Whoever it is, Hazel probably already has their real number saved.
Armchair_Detective: Too bad that old boss didn’t pan out. I think you should write about the stakeout for the blog.
WhiteKnight31: Agreed.
ReidingRainbow: No way in hell.
