Then she says, “Oh, I put an appointment in your book for three.”
“An appointment?”
“You were in the back. A customer called in. I wrote it in your book.”
She looks like the cat that ate the canary.
Shannon walks in, ready to give manicures at her table near the front window.
And right behind Shannon—is EJ.
“EJ?” I ask.
“Your three o’clock,” Laura says, so pleased with herself and not even trying to hide it.
“I’m here for a haircut,” EJ explains.
“In the middle of your workday?”
“It was slow.”
“Okay, well, have a seat at one of the bowls in the back.”
While EJ makes his way to the back of the salon I shoot Laura a scolding look. She just smiles all the wider.
I cut EJ’s hair every six weeks or so. Sometimes more often. Today, I feel like a schoolgirl walking onto the dance floor at the Sadie Hawkins.
I straighten my spine and walk to the back of the salon. I put a cape on EJ, then turn the water on and test the temperature before I start spraying it across his hair.
“Thanks again,” I say quietly, hoping the rest of the customers don’t hear me.
“You’re welcome. I hope the boys found something they like to eat.”
“They each had a burger,” I tell him. “And Mom had some cold chicken as a late-night snack.”
“Good.” He smiles up at me, and I smile back.
“Did you eat?” he asks, his voice soft and low.
“Last night?”
He chuckles softly.
I turn off the water and dispense some shampoo into my hands.
“Yes. Last night,” he says.
“I had a burger … and some chicken with Mom.”
“Good.” He smiles wider.
I lather the shampoo and run it through his hair, scrubbing his scalp. His eyes drift shut. His hair is soft to the touch, his scalp warm. I rub my fingers in firm circles, focusing on the mechanics of the job, but my unhelpful mind keeps thinkingthis is EJ. I’m washing EJ’s hair. He’s got a nice head of hair. Thick, dark, slightly wavy, but not unruly. I move my hands back and forth. His head grows heavier, his shoulders relaxing. The air grows quiet between us. We don’t speak. The tropical smell of coconut and vanilla rises from the bowl. I massage EJ’s head, bringing the shampoo to a lather.
I don’t dare look around the salon. My breath feels louder than usual. My skin tingles. I clear my throat and focus on simply washing my customer’s hair.
EJ opens his eyes. “Angie?”
“Yeah?” My voice comes out brighter than usual. My hands still. I clear my throat.
