“I thought maybe you’d have some self-respect and change your mind once you saw my masterpiece. Have you no decency? You’re a stylist, for crying out loud. No one will want to work with you if you show up a hot mess.”
Natalie stepped away from her station, grabbed Jackson’s wrist and yanked it away from my mane. Then she pulled me away from his onslaught, toward the back of the salon.
“Ignore Jackson, he’s in a mood this morning,” she said.
“When is he not in a mood?” I muttered, flipping my bangs back out of my eyes.
“You all would be a lot more productive at your own stations,” Miranda called from the front, shooting us a disapproving glance. She hated when we lingered, our conversationincreasing in volume as we got more animated. But she also never did anything about it. Not really.
“How are you?” Natalie whispered, appeasing Miranda by taking half a step backward toward her own station. I set down my bag and checked the time. My client was a few minutes late, but she’d texted to say that’d be the case.
“I’m fine. Getting by.”
She jutted out her bottom lip. “Any updates?”
Jackson caught up to us, making a move to stick his brush back in my hair, but I jerked away.
“Not really,” I said, giving him a warning glare. “But we’re working on a few suspects.”
“No word on how the little guy is doing?” Jackson asked, finally dropping his hands and leaving my hair alone.
“Nope.” I’d asked for another proof of life picture this morning but hadn’t received a response yet.
“What a monster,” Jackson said, as he plugged in a curling iron.
I shot him a warning look. “Don’t even think about coming near me with that thing. My client will be here any second.”
“All the more reason to look presentable.”
I rolled my eyes, but a few seconds later when the tool heated up, I let him curl my front pieces. Resisting him was futile at this point.
Once my first client came in, it was easy to tune out the noise in my head for an hour while I worked on her cut. It felt good to get lost in the art of getting someone’s hair just right. An added bonus was that this client in particular was a talker. All I had to do was nod, lend a sympathetic ear, and ask her, “What’s new,” and she filled the silence with ease. It was refreshing to hear about someone else’s troubles and pretend like my own didn’t exist for a little while.
Most of my clients were loyal ones. They’d followed me even though I’d been at three different salons in the past two years. Some might say that the changes made me look flightyor unprofessional, but my clients still sought me out every time. I chose to take that as a sign I did a halfway decent job. And hopefully this salon stuck. Even though I’d only been here a few months, something about it made me want to stay. I was comfortable here. I could be myself.
After three clients back to back, I plopped down in my chair and took a sip of the beverage Jackson had picked up for me earlier. I winced. Matcha? I’d told him a dozen times it wasn’t my cup of tea—literally—but he maintained I just hadn’t had a good one yet. I braced myself for the second sip, but it wasn’t that bad. Was that vanilla syrup?
“Hey, Hazel,” a soft voice drifted behind me.
I turned to find Ruby standing there, shifting back and forth in her bright white tennis shoes.
“Oh, hey.” I smiled at her. “I didn’t think you were coming in today.”
“I had a last-minute request this afternoon.” She chewed on her lip, and I stared at her, waiting for her to say something. It wasn’t like Ruby to be so quiet.
“Did you need something?” I asked.
Jackson, stopped talking, the highlight brush in his right hand poised above his client’s hair. He didn’t need to glance in our direction for me to know he was eavesdropping.
Ruby tipped her head back and groaned. “See, I told him this would be forced and awkward.”
My shoulders tensed. “What would be forced and awkward?”
“Me, bringing this up.” She let out a huff. “It’s Reid. He asked me to talk to you,” she said.
Now my whole body stiffened. Reid asked Ruby to talk to me? “This isn’t about the apartment thing, is it?” I asked, already knowing it likely was.
She nodded and winced. “He wanted me to tell you that he truly isn’t a creep, and that his town house is huge. His guest bedroom is basically like a hotel. It wouldn’t be weird atall—I swear, this is all him making me tell you this. I’m not trying to pressure you into staying there.”
