Chapter Twenty-Six
Rory
Iarrive backat the salon very wobbly legged, this time not just from cycling. Parking Ivy’s ancient turquoise bike against the shed door, I quickly jog up the back stairs to change my shoes. I also need to run the straightening iron through my hair and put on a little makeup, but both of those things I can do downstairs on the salon floor. One of the perks of the industry I suppose, though I can’t very well work the desk with nothing more than the wind in my cheeks. I notice my bangs are growing out pretty rapidly as I slick a little moisturiser over my face and make a mental note to ask Ivy to fit me in for a cut when she has time. This time I’ll actually be able to pay, if she’ll let me.
Ballet flats, a black shirt, and I’m ready for the reception desk, so enter the salon to be greeted by Nat’s complaints.
‘If I’d’ve known there was a uniform, I might’ve had second thoughts.’
‘Away with your complaining,’ returns Ivy. ‘It’s the same as you wore in the last place.’
‘Aye, but now I’m treatments manager, not just staff.’
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, rounding the corner. Ivy is tying on a tiny apron, mostly ignoring Nat’s contempt.
‘How comeshe’sno’ wearing the thing?’ Pointing a finger in my direction, Nat then runs it around the neck of her new tunic; black with a mandarin collar, she looks like a staff member of a five-star spa.
‘She’s not an employee. Besides, business casual works for the front desk. It’s professional,’ Ivy says as Nat begins to speak again. ‘Like your new uniform. And before you ask, no, you can’t wear it with your hot pants.’
‘It’s too fucking long for a kick off.’ Nat narrows her gaze. ‘And was that some kind of dig at my dress sense?’
‘Of course it’s not,’ I interject calmly. ‘If we had legs like you, we’d all dress like Jessica Rabbit.’ In a strip club.
‘I think I’d prefer to be compared to Jessica Jaynes.’
‘Who?’
‘If you have to ask, it’s no good me explaining,’ Nat replies with a huff.
‘Busty Babes,’ pipes up June from one of the salon stations. ‘I think that was one of her films.’ She twists a head full of old-fashioned hair-rollers over her shoulder, attempting to catch Nat’s eye. ‘Was I right?’
‘Seriously, June, it’s a bit creepy that you’re familiar with my porn collection.’
‘Is that what those files are?’ June asks, scandalised. ‘You dirty wee besom. I’ll remind you, you’re no too big for a skelped arse!’
‘Give over, Nan. I know fine well you’ve seen them as many times as I have.’
I make my way over to the reception counter before either of the pair notice my pink cheeks, having recently being at the receiving end of a skelped ass myself.Who’d have thought that would be something I’d enjoy?The pair continue to verbally duke it out, unconcerned about the presence of others. In their family they don’t believe in hiding crazy. Nope, they pour it a cuppa and tell it to pull up a chair.
The mail dropping onto the mat catches my attention, though I try hard to ignore the mailman waving from the other side of the glass door.The lecherous old toad.
‘He was definitely one of your mum’s less discerning choices,’ says Ivy, sidling up to me at the reception desk. I don’t look up though I nod.
‘Thomas Dawdon. He gave me the heebie-jeebies while he and mom were dating.’
‘He used to look at your bum,’ Ivy says. ‘I saw. You can look up now. He’s gone.’
‘Here.’ I pass her a couple envelopes addressed to Ivy personally.
‘Shove them in the drawer, would you? I’ve got to check June’s perm.’
‘Oh, how the mighty have fallen, eh?’
‘Pays the bills, babe,’ she replies. ‘And a bit more glam than your other job. Bricklayer, wasn’t it?’
‘What, with these nails?’ I flash her my recently manicured hands.
‘How was yesterday, anyway?’
