Chapter Twenty-Six
Fallon
Brushing up hair from the salon floor after finishing my last client is both freeing and tedious. I'm relieved that I've finished for the day, but every time I think I have managed to brush up the last hair, one thousand more appear. It’s like they float around the place, tormenting me. My mind is full of anxiety, thinking double time over when I next see Luke, which is very soon. But also all the jobs at my place that I need to do when I get home. Why did I think it would be a good idea to wash my bedding and not put a new set on? Is there anything worse than wanting to climb into bed only to realise you have to make the damn thing?
I brush the floor much more roughly than I need to when the salon door opens. Shit, is it that time already? I thought I had given myself thirty minutes to clean myself up before he got here.
“Hello?” A timid voice calls from the frontdesk.
Rounding the corner, I come face to face with a petite woman. She appears to be around my age, pretty, and about a foot shorter than I am. But the most striking thing about her is the cut across her lip and the dark purple bruise covering her cheekbone.
“Hi,” I say, a wide smile on my face as I rush over to greet her. “I’m Fallon. There are no appointments left for today, but I can help you book one for next week?”
She seems to cringe, curling into herself as I speak. I may be many things, but intimidating has never been one of them.
“Yes, I know who you are,” she whispers, her eyes facing the floor. “I, uh,” she stammers. “I need your help.”
I frown, wondering how she could know me. Maybe from my social media page? Her hair is a little dry, but I wouldn’t say it needs that much help.
“Want to come and take a seat in the back? We can have a consultation.”
She frowns for a second before nodding her head and following me to the salon space. I gesture to my styling chair and take the one next to it, spinning towards her.
“So, tell me what's going on. Are you thinking of a new style or…”
“No, you have gotten this all wrong,” she interrupts me. “Sorry. I don’t know what I’mdoing, or if I should even be here in the first place.” She stammers again, her eyes watering as she looks anywhere but at me. “I shouldn’t be here.”
What the fuck is going on? This poor girl looks broken, and if anyone knows that feeling well, it’s me. I study her, thinking of my words thoroughly before blurting out the wrong thing. Her fingers are knotted in her lap, her arms physically shaking.
I decide that my best course of action is to keep things light; this girl doesn’t seem the type who needs to be forced into saying anything she doesn’t want to.
“Did you know that hairdressers are known for being the best listeners? We’re like a safe room, where anything you say is hidden from the rest of the world. Nothing you tell me has to leave this room.”
Her watery eyes finally meet mine, a small smile breaking past her lips.
“You are so kind, and so beautiful. Nothing at all like I expected,” she says.
“What were you expecting? Three eyes and a bad attitude?” I laugh.
“You’re nothing at all like he made you out to be.”
“He?” I ask, a frown creasing my brow.
Before she can reply, the salon door opens once again. Her expression changes instantly, the little colour that was there draining from herface.
“Fal?” Luke calls, his footsteps getting louder as he walks through the salon.
“In here,” I call back, just as the girl jumps out of the seat.
“I have to go, this was a mistake. I’m so sorry,” she says quickly.
She runs for the door so fast that she trips, almost falling flat on her face. But it doesn’t deter her; she jumps back up and keeps rushing.
“Wait!” I call after her, but she doesn’t look back.
“Hey. Are you okay?” Luke asks her as she side steps, giving him a wide berth.
She doesn’t answer either of us. She’s out of the door and out of sight within seconds.
