Below the text, she’s dropped a pin with her location and another text that says the appointment time is right now.
What is she up to? When I realize the pinned location is just her place, I waste no time racing over there.
She opens the door dressed in a black jumpsuit with a white button-up shirt and a black apron over it. The apron has clips all over it and combs in the pockets.
“What is going on?” I question.
“Welcome to the Salon of Dani. You are extremely fortunate to have gotten an appointment here. Usually, I’m all booked up,” she brags.
“Oh, is that so? And what services did I book for today?”
“That head needs a wash and retwist. I just came from picking up some products so let’s go, chop chop.” She claps her hands and steps aside so I can enter.
“By any chance is this a distraction from the fact that my sister doesn’t fuck with me right now?”
“It might be. Will that stop you from having your appointment?” she asks with her hand on her hip.
Hell no. I want everything she has to offer. I settle for a simple “Not at all.”
“Then move.” She smacks my ass and pushes my back, pouting when I don’t budge.
When we enter her kitchen where she’s set up a shampoo bowl, she gives me the five-star treatment. She puts on some lo-fi hip-hop and then proceeds to sit my ass down like it’s a professional shop.
It feels good having her hand in my scalp. Admittedly, the detoxing, two rounds of shampooing and rinsing, and ringing out my hair lulls me to sleep.
She pours something else in the front of my hair and sits in my lap, which makes me sit right up.
“What’s that?” I ask, not really caring because I like this seating arrangement.
“A hydrating shampoo. Just wanna get some moisture back in your hair after cleansing it.” She’s very focused, massaging the shampoo deep into my scalp.
I run my hands up the back of her legs.
“Stoppp, I’m busy.”
“But I’m your favorite client,” I pout.
“No, that would be Evie.”
I tickle her some more until she fights me to stay still.
After my hair is thoroughly washed, she sets me down between her legs so she can start the retwist.
I’m used to being the one caring for everyone. I’m not used to being catered to like this. Even if she never gives me forever, I’m so grateful to have even a fraction of this woman’s affection.
She slathers some gel on the back of her hand and takes out one of her small-tooth combs.
“Where did you learn how to do this?” I ask, impressed.
She smirks. “Just because I personally always choose a forty-inch buss down doesn’t mean I’m not capable of other things.”
I smack my own forehead. “Of course, how dumb of me.”
She chuckles as she turns my head the way she needs it, clipping my locs into sections. “When I first started modeling, I got fucked over a lot when it came to my hair and makeup. I learned how to do it all myself, so I’d be prepared in case they sent me to someone who didn’t know what the hell to do with my complexion and hair texture. And then I found that I really enjoyed it, so I kept learning from stylists I met over the years. Now, I really only do Evie’s hair when she asks. So consider yourself blessed.”
“Oh, believe me, I know I am.”
She licks her lips and ignores me in favor of focusing on my hair. She works in silence for a bit before speaking again. “You went to the support group today, right? How did it go?”
