Shoulders back, chin out, I plaster on a bright smile and channel my inner diva as the first flash illuminates the enclosed space. I run my fingers through my hair and tilt my head to the side for the second shot, then I frame my face with my hands and purse my lips for the next one. Before the last flash goes off, I put on my sunglasses and pull a sultry look, feeling more like myself than I have in a long time.
Vegas did something to me. In some ways, it broke me, but it also reignited a spark Tyler worked diligently to extinguish over the span of our relationship. I didn’t see it when I was in the thick of it, but it’s hard to ignore now that I’m on the outside. I’ll piece myself back together, stronger than ever, and I won’t let another man break what I’m working so hard to rebuild. Not even a six-foot-seven cowboy with soulful eyes and talented hands.
God, those hands.
The strip of photos drops into the printer slot with a quiet thud, derailing me from that dangerous train of thought. I look lighter and more vibrant despite the monochromaticcoloring. I guess that’s what happens when you drop over 200 pounds of dead weight.
Ok, so maybe he dropped me, but he clearly did me a favor. At least, that’s how I’m choosing to look at it. Like my dad always said, it’s all about perspective.
The midday sun beats down on me as I pull up outside the salon on Main Street. I secure the top back on my convertible and lock up.
“You’re here!” Sarah says as soon as I step through the door.
The vibes are immaculate in this place, with real plants scattered throughout the interior, and an earthy, relaxing aesthetic. It’s eclectic, much like its owner. Sarah was one of the first people I met when I moved to Oak Ridge. She’s one of those extroverts who randomly adopts friends wherever she goes.
Nia waves as she crouches over a pedicure chair, elbow deep in foamy water.Maybe I should’ve scheduled a mani-pedi, too.
As if she’s read my mind, Sarah says, “Way ahead of you. We’re gonna give you the best blow job you’ve ever had, then I’ll let Nia take care of you.”
“You’re not my type, but I could kiss you right now.”
“Is it the pink hair?” she quips.
“No. I love the pastel vibes. It’s more about the equipment.”
“I can strap one on if it would help.”
“Huh. I’ll keep that in mind.” I frown and cock my head. “What about your boyfriend? What was his name again?”
“We don’t talk about him,” Nia interjects. “He’s dead to us.”
“Metaphorically, or did you just make me an unwitting accomplice?"
Nia mimes zipping her lips and throwing away the key before she turns back to her client—she looks vaguely familiar, with copper hair and blonde face framing highlights, but I can’t quite place her. The amused smile on her face tells me she’s not the least bit bothered by the crassness of our conversation.
I nod once. “So, about that blow job…”
Sarah motions for me to follow with the sweep of her hand. She stops in front of one of the stations. I take a seat, and she spins me toward the mirror.
We do a quick consult before she takes me over to the sink for a wash and the most toe-curling scalp massage I’ve ever experienced.
I let out an exaggerated moan. “If you’re trying to make me fall in love with you, it’s working.”
“Tell that to the ring on your finger, you harlot.”
The ring.I’d almost forgotten about it. I got so used to wearing Tyler’s that I hadn’t realized I was still wearing Griffin’s.
She helps me sit up and wraps a towel around my head before guiding me back to her station. “So. Are the rumors true? Did you marry into the Hayes family?”
“Who ratted me out? Rosie?”
“By way of Olivia.”
As she drapes the cape around me, I cringe at the potato-like reflection staring back at me. It’s a universal truth that nobody looks good in a salon cape. Lucky for me, my husband claims to have a thing for potatoes—not that it matters. I really shouldn’t be making a habit of calling him my husband.The annulment papers are already drawn up, and once he signs, this whole thing will be nothing more than a distant memory.
I sigh. “Long story. Margaritas, blackjack, and a stripper show. You know how it is.”
She smirks at me in the mirror as she towel dries my hair. “I don’t, but please… go on.”
