I keep walking. But his comment burns. And maybe that’s the point. She’d probably hate what I’m doing. Hell, I’m not even sure if it's right. But it’s the only way I know how to start fixing what I broke.
I pull into the salon parking lot and force myself to breathe. I’ll give Rick this—he picked a damn good location. Coffee shops, boutiques, plenty of foot traffic. Perfect for their target clientele.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.How’d Rick land this spot?What did “networking” really mean? What did Mandy do? Or say? And more than that, what kind of strings is he pulling around this place?
I shove the thoughts aside and do what I’m best at: work.
Inside, Mandy’s scrolling TikTok. Holly’s on the phone—supplier call, from the sounds of it. At least one of them is trying. I haul my tool bag over to the unfinished floor and get to it.
The flooring, luxury vinyl plank, was a whole debate.Mandy insisted on real hardwood. I pushed back since it was costly, impractical, and a nightmare with water and chemical exposure. Holly sided with me. Mandy lost the vote.
Rick, as usual, was nowhere in sight.
Speak of the devil.
He strolls in as if he is entering a party fashionably late and claps me on the back. “Sammy boy! Putting in that sweat equity, I see,” he muses.
I straighten up. “Trying to stay on schedule. What about you? Been working on promo?”
He beams. “Oh, absolutely. I’ve been wining and dining potential partners left and right. Building hype, making connections.”
My brows lift.Finally."That’s good. Got anything I can look at? A website? Early booking push?”
He blinks. Then laughs, loud and fake. “You’re cute, Sam. Leave the spreadsheets and sites to the pros. This kind of growth comes from handshakes and good whiskey, not Google ads.”
And just like that, the optimism dies.
Rick saunters over to Holly and drops a stack of receipts on her lap.
“Need these reimbursed, sweetheart. Couple of long lunches—but worth every penny.”
Holly flips through them, eyes widening. “Rick … this one’s for $327. We’re over budget already.”
Rick waves her off. “Cost of doing business. You’ve gotta spend money to make money. Trust the process.”
“Don’t worry, Hols,” Mandy adds sweetly. “Rick and I have it handled.”
But Holly hesitates, pen hovering. I step in.
“Hey, pause. This isn’t sustainable,” I say, lowering myvoice. “You’re going to burn through cash before you even open. You’re not a bottomless checkbook. I’m taking you to my accountant this week. He’ll help you sort this out the right way.”
At that, I catch a flicker between Mandy and Rick. A brief glance, sharp and loaded. Then Mandy speaks up, voice all fake sugar. “Wait … we’ll still get our monthly allowances though, right?”
I stiffen. “This isn’t a trust fund. You’ll get paychecks when we’re profitable. Until then, nobody gets paid.”
Rick chuckles, low and easy. “Look, I get it. Your wife’s upset about the money. That happens.”
Mandy and Rick laugh too loudly.
“Don’t talk about my wife,” I say, quieter than I feel. “She’s done more with less than most people ever will.”And I didn’t listen to a damn word of it when it mattered.
His smile falters for just a second. Then he brightens again, tossing a slim folder onto the counter.
“Speaking of profit. Here’s the vendor contract we talked about for your laundry services. Just give it a quick sign so I can get it filed.” He taps the top page. “No need to overcomplicate it.”
“You don’t want us reading the contract?” Holly asks, voice quiet.
Rick smiles like she asked something obvious. “Of course you can read it. Just don’t get stuck in the weeds. It’s all standard.” He shrugs. “Only thing that hurts you here is waiting too long. These vendors don’t sit around.”
