“The last fuckhead who did my hair totally gave me a line. I looked like I had a bowl cut for a week.”
“Oh, that’s tough. I won’t to do that to you.” She kept trimming then switched to a number three guard to get the top. “We’ll keep this slightly longer, okay? I really like your color. It’s a rich, dark brown.”
“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “So, uh, do you like it here better than Ray’s?”
“I love styling hair. Better than pouring beers? Oh, yeah. But I miss the people at Ray’s.”
“You didn’t find them too stupid or poor? Too ‘beneath you’?”
She paused. “What? Beneath me? Where did that come from?”
He looked at her in the mirror. “I dunno. Heard you thought you were better than everyone.”
She gripped the clippers tightly, ready to shove them down his throat.
Better than? She’d givehisbetter-than white ass a—
“But I don’t see that at all. You’re kinda nice.” He sounded surprised, and she saw him blush. “I mean, you’re doin’ a great job on my hair and all.”
“Hmm.”
“Hey now. I’m just sayin’ what I heard. Me? I’m gonna tell my friends you do good work. Maybe send more business your way.”
She continued trimming his hair, praying he wouldn’t tell anyone he knew to visit.
“So, uh, are you dating anyone?”
She nearly slipped but held the clippers steady at the last instant. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”He’s huge and could crush you with one fist, so back off.“A great guy.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “I mean, I get it. You’re pretty for a…” He stopped himself. “For a girl not much older than me,” he mumbled.
Yep, she’d been due. So many great friends and customers who didn’t give a hoot about skin color. Of course she’d have to get a few rotten ones. It probably would have bothered her more if he’d been someone she cared about. As it was, she just wanted him gone.
She gave him a bright smile and chattered about the coming winter festival downtown. When she asked him about his plans for the day, he told her he worked down at the docks. Then he continued by complaining about everyone who didn’t work as hard as he did and who couldn’t see his value as a fuck-tastic, amazin’ employee.
That value must be buried deep, deep down.
She finished up his hair in record time and dusted off the excess. Then she used a bit of product to cause the front of his short hair to spike up until she thought he looked less grungy and more cool-slash-funky, wearing the crusty clothes as if a fashion statement and not that he didn’t believe in a washing machine.
“Wow.” He turned his head in the mirror while she drew away his cape. “I look good. This is much better than what Milton does.”
“I’m glad you like it.” She gently encouraged him toward the front of the shop. She didn’t offer him the Ray’s discount and instead charged him full price, though he didn’t seem to realize it. Maybe if she were too expensive he wouldn’t come back.
“Huh. Kind of pricey.”
“Well, we’re a boutique, so you do pay more, but you get better service.”
“You got that right,” Tommie said as she put more foils in her client’s hair.
Daryl handed her two twenties, and when she gave him his change, he pocketed it all. So, no tip then. She mentally sighed. “Have a great day.”
“Don’t you want your tip?” He leaned closer, staring, and said in a low voice, “Don’t stay late here alone. It ain’t safe.” He fingered his hair then turned and left.
Feeling scared for the first time in a long time, Rena watched him go.
“What the hell was that?” Tommie demanded. “What did he say? I didn’t hear him.”
The salon grew so quiet only the low background music could be heard.
