Scott led the way, hoping Thomas was behind him. He pushed the door to the salon open and immediately got wrapped up in spindly arms. Jeff hugged him tight, making a keeningsound as he did, then abruptly pushed Scott away, gripped his shoulders and looked into his face.
Jeff’s fake lashes fluttered as he took Scott in. He pouted in sympathy. “Been a rough few weeks, has it?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“To me,” Jeff murmured, cupping Scott’s cheek and stroking his thumb beneath Scott’s left eye. The fake nail he had on was sharpened to a point, and Scott was pretty sure it took off a few of his bottom lashes on the way past.
Jeff inspected his thumb with an even bigger pout. Concealer smeared the digit. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
Scott shrugged. “I’m…stressed.”
Jeff nodded. “Does the stress have anything to do with the man glaring at us?”
Scott shifted his gaze to the side, catching Thomas watching them.
“No. Thomas is good…most of the time.” He frowned. “Actually, forget I said that, he’s an arsehole.”
Jeff stepped back from Scott and offered his hand out to Thomas. “Nice to meet you, Arsehole.”
Thomas surprised Scott by shaking Jeff’s hand.
“Takes one to know one,” Thomas mumbled in reply.
“Wait until I tell you about the balloons,” Scott said, climbing out of his hoodie and hanging it on the coat stand.
Jeff was too busy staring at Thomas to hear. “Did it hurt?” he asked, waving a vague hand at his face.
“When I fell from heaven?” Thomas asked. “No.”
Jeff snorted. “I like you already.” He touched his nose. “Just making sure mine is still in place.”
“Yours?” Thomas lifted an eyebrow. “I doubt anything on your face is original.”
Scott inwardly cringed.
Jeff had full lips, high cheekbones, a pointed chin, and a cute button nose. His brows and his eyeliner were tattooed on, and he wore purple contact lenses with oversized pupils like a cartoon character. He was fifty, without a single grey in his brown hair, couldn’t pull an expression to save his life, and had disappeared to Turkey only to return with a new hairline – yet – he swore on his mother’s soul he hadn’t had any work done.
“This…” Jeff touched his face. “It’s all natural.”
“Bullshit.”
“All you need is a good skin care routine, peppermint tea, and yoga, and you get to keep your youthful looks. Or at least I do, runs in the family you see. Good genetics.”
“There’s genetics, and then there’s cutting the face of a teenager and sewing it to your own.”
“I’d rather the teenager than a reptile from a zoo,” Jeff said, then he laughed.
Thomas didn’t laugh, but he didn’t storm out of the salon, which Scott considered a win.
“I think you should do Thomas first,” Scott said. “How I showed you?”
Jeff’s lips twitched into a smile. “Yeah, I think they’ll suit him.”
“You’ve got to promise not to look until they’re done,” Scott said.
Thomas grimaced. “What?”
“Trust me.”
