“This is pretty cool,” I admit, and she grins.
“That’s just the start. After lunch, we have collagen-infused whirlpool pedicures, manicures, hair treatments, haircuts and styling, and we finish the day with makeup application.”
Holy hell, she really went all out.
“Alyssa?” A tall raven-haired beauty calls from the doorway. “Are you ready to begin?”
I’ve never been more ready.
THE FIRST HALFof the day breezed by. I’m relaxed, rejuvenated, and ready to see what they’re able to do with this hair. I twirl a piece around my finger, inspecting the ends.
They have their work cut out for them.
I’m seated in a massage chair with a pink-haired woman at my feet, scrubbing at a callus I didn’t even realize I had.
“When was the last time you had a pedicure?” Lanie asks from the chair next to mine.
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“It shows,” she says, scrunching her nose. “The poor girl’s gonna have back problems.”
To the pedicurist’s credit, she doesn’t comment either way, remaining focused with a stony expression.
A prickling sensation sweeps through me the longer I stare at the woman. There’s something detached and sad about her.
“There were things left unsaid that she wishes she would’vetold me.” The ghost is back, but I refuse to allow her words to tug at my heartstrings.
Why do spirits suddenly think it all right to ambush me in the middle of my day? Furthermore, since when do I see ghosts that I’m not connected to in some way? I loose a breath, not sure how this works. Once she makes contact with me, does it mean she’s also attached to me?
No, thank you. I already have a ghost problem. I’m not looking to add another to the roster.
I make a mental note to call Corinne as soon as I leave to uncover the cause of this unwelcome phenomenon.
“If you just relay my message, Iwillgo away.”
I ignore her, turning my head to Lanie. “What color did you go with?”
“I already showed you. Pink Flamenco.” She points toward the bottle of OPI polish sitting next to her pedicurist.
“Please,” the spirit begs, annoying as ever. “Can’t you see she’s hurting?”
I chew on my bottom lip, realizing I had noticed that.But what can I do?
Having heard my internal thoughts, the girl storms forward with her request, her eyes lighting up.
“You can relay things to her that only she and I know.”
The woman working on my feet, glances up at me, but her expression is still lifeless.
Damn it.
“Is there any way I could choose a different color? I’m not loving my original choice,” I lie, needing a reason to get away from the others.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned since acquiring this curse, it’s that others don’t need to be made aware of it. People don’t appreciate things they can’t understand.
“Sure. You can slide these on,” she says, positioning a pair of disposable slippers for me to slide my feet into.
I’m walking toward the next room where the wall of polish is located and realize the woman isn’t following me.
