Kira slides off the bike and takes in the outside of the establishment. It isn’t terrible, in my opinion. A little flashy, but definitely not a dump.
“Better than I thought it was going to be.” I reach for her hand.
Kira shrugs. “I wish I had a hat.”
“You can leave the helmet on.”
She shakes her head. “Let’s just get this over with.” Her tone is shaky but sounds like it’s getting stronger. Maybe the shock is starting to wear off.
We walk into the salon hand in hand to find it’s completely empty. A tall, curvaceous woman with long, jet-black hair and blue streaks immediately greets us.
“Hi.” She smiles brightly, taking an inconspicuous notice of Kira’s hair. “I’m Dahlia. Welcome.”
“I’m Ky. This is Kira. Thanks for taking us on such short notice.” Now that I see Dahlia’s face, I recognize her. She doesn’t come around the bar much, but Petie has taken her on some club rides.
“Well, when Petie tells me his Prez needs my help, I help.” She grins warmly at Kira. “Let’s get you in a chair.” She reaches her hand out.
I hold my breath and pray that Kira takes it.
17
Kira
I still sort of feel likeI’m in a fog.
I stare down at the proffered hand in front of me, wanting to take it, but for some reason am hesitant.
“Go on, Snow,” Ky encourages me.
I don’t have much of a choice, so I place my hand and some faith in Dahlia’s palm and let her lead me through the salon.
As she washes my short, chopped hair, I want to crawl into a hole and die.
This is humiliating.
I’m still trying to process the shock. Process the image I saw in the mirror when I realized what had happened. That someone had been in my house. In my room. That they violated my privacy and took away a part of me. All while I slept in my own bed. I begin to shake as I replay the memory, falling back into that black place when I felt alone and scared.
“You cold, sweetheart? I can make the water warmer.”
“I’m fine,” I force out, at the same time fighting back tears.
Dahlia peers down at me with warm, dark eyes. She seems very sincere. She knows something went down and is trying her best to temper a bad situation.
“Okay, all done.” She helps me sit up with a towel around my head. Not sure what I need it for. Most of my hair is gone.
Once I’m in her chair, she towel-dries my wet head. “Where is everyone?” There are eight other stylist stations in the place, yet there’s not another soul besides us. Me, her, and Ky.
“Sent them on a break. Figured a little alone time was in order.” She winks at me through the ornate mirror.
“Good call,” Ky adds as he sits in the waiting area flipping mindlessly through a magazine.
“Okay, let’s see.” Dahlia combs my hair, piecing it apart to inspect the damage. As I watch her move my short stands this way and that, a chunk of emotion erupts from nowhere.
“I’m sorry.” I cover my face and hide the tears.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t cry. We’ll fix it.” She places two consoling hands on my shoulders.
“I don’t care about my hair.” It’s not a total lie. I hate the way it looks and that all my beautiful length is gone. It’s more the fact that it happened at all. That my heart is broken, and the man who abandoned me yesterday was so quick to come to my rescue today. I’m confused. I’m a mess. I’m tired, and I feel so ugly. Ugly inside and out.
