‘Hmm, you mean like the time I gave Mrs Farmer a makeoverandgot her into a peplum?’
‘Vernon is on his way here,’ Dean responded.
‘Ooh, tell him to go back for his scissors!’ Angel ordered.
Oliver Drummond’s Penthouse, Downtown Manhattan
‘Man, will you chill out?’
Tony was gulping his best Scotch like it was water and Oliver didn’t even care. He was nervous. More nervous than he’d ever been before, which was ridiculous. It was just a date. And just because he didn’t do dates very often, it didn’t ramp up this date to a higher ranking. It was just a night out. Casual.
‘I’m fine,’ Oliver replied, although the tone of his voice said otherwise.
‘So this chick is English. She’s the sister of someone who works for you. She’s got a nine-year-old daughter and an ex she wants to find.’ Tony sucked in more Scotch. ‘I have to say, the last bit of that sentence is just plain weird.’
‘It’s for her daughter,’ Oliver said, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
‘So she says.’
‘What reason has she got to lie?’ He turned to face his friend then. ‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to say she wanted a Porsche or an island in the Indian Ocean?’
‘You still don’t know for sure it wasn’t her who sold you out to theNew York Times.’
‘I do, actually,’ Oliver said with a nod. ‘Delaney found out I’ve had a journalist on my tail for the past month. He was sat right behind me that night we went to Vipers.’
Tony shook his head. ‘How did she find that out?’
‘With Delaney, it’s often better not to ask.’ Oliver turned to face him. ‘How do I look?’
‘Like you’re ready for a fashion show.’
Dean Walker’s Apartment, Downtown Manhattan
‘I know Angel said youusedto be a hair stylist but how long ago is “used to be”?’ Hayley cringed as the scissors clipped another section of hair and she felt it fall from her shoulders.
‘It must be about ten, eleven years or so ago,’ Vernon said, removing a clip from her hair.
‘Gosh, that long,’ Hayley stuttered out the reply.
‘It’s like driving a car. Once you learn, it’s there with you forever,’ Vernon said, snipping some more.
Hayley grimaced. ‘The technique maybe, perhaps not the styles. I know the Jennifer Aniston was really popular back in the day but…’
‘Why are you so nervous?’ Vernon asked with a smile.
‘Oh, I don’t know. I have someone coming to pick me up in twenty minutes and I haven’t had my hair cut in like two years. I’m concerned he won’t recognise me. I’m concernedIwon’t recognise me.’
‘Relax, Hay, I trust Vernon implicitly,’ Dean stated, putting a mug of coffee on the breakfast bar.
‘Does he cut your hair?’
‘Heaven’s no! I go to a little Asian man in Greenwich Village.’
‘Let me out of this chair!’ Hayley screamed.
‘Mum, for goodness’ sake. You’re in charge of organising a big Christmas charity fundraiser and you’re acting like a baby over ahaircut. If I were you, I’d be more worried about getting that finished on time, not a few split ends.’
‘I wasn’t worried about split ends. But at the rate my hair’s falling on the floor, there might be none left to worry about.’
