Page 9 of Second Time Around

Four

Beck paused outside of the hair salon and noted the sign that read: Walk-ins Welcome! It was the middle of a humid August afternoon, and peering through the window, he noticed the salon wasn’t very busy. People were either off doing summer activities or had stayed home in the air conditioning. Then he saw a flash of blonde hair, and Jenna came into view. She was standing near the back of the salon, talking to a coworker, as they were both wearing black capes with the salon name on them. He took a deep breath, pulled the door open, and stepped inside.

A whoosh of cool air hit him, and he was overtaken by the smell of hair and nail products. He went up to the front counter, where an attractive young woman greeted him.

“Hi. How can I help you?”

“Hello. I don’t have an appointment, but I wondered if Jenna Young might be available.”

The receptionist eyed him suspiciously, unless it was just his imagination. “For a haircut?”

Among other things. “Yes. I saw your sign said walk-ins welcome,” he gently reminded her.

“Right. Let me check.” She punched some keys on the laptop in front of her and peered at the screen. “She has a half an hour before her next client, so she can probably squeeze you in.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

She picked up a microphone and said, “Jenna, you have a walk-in. Jenna.”

He smiled at her and braced himself for impact. He heard the clip-clop of heels before Jenna approached the counter and halted a few feet away from him.

“Hey,” he said cheerfully.

She slowly came closer, like she was approaching a dangerous animal. Then, in a menacingly low voice, she said, “What are you doing here?”

“I need a haircut.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she replied, “There’s a barbershop right down the street.”

“Your sign says walk-ins welcome.”

“I have another client.”

“Not for half an hour.”

She scowled at the receptionist, who quickly looked away. “Follow me,” she huffed. Then she turned on her heels and took off toward the back of the salon.

Suddenly it dawned on him that he was entrusting her with a pair of scissors that could easily double as a weapon. He’d been so determined to talk to her that he hadn’t thought it through, but it was too late now. She gestured for him to sit down in front of a sink and tip his head back.

She was all business, but he attempted to break the ice. “My sister was really happy with her new hairstyle.”

“Um-hmm.” She turned on the taps with swift, hard jerks.

“She told all her friends, so don’t be surprised if you gain some new clients.”

“How’s the water temperature?” she asked in a clipped voice.

“A little hot.”

She adjusted the taps. “Better?”

The temperature had gone from near scalding to cold, and he assumed she’d done it on purpose. “It’s fine,” he lied.

As she wet his hair, water droplets sprinkled his face, and he doubted she’d have been this careless with somebody else. It might have been foolish for him to show up like this, but he’d been desperate. Besides, he really had needed a trim.

She turned off the water and squirted some shampoo into her hands. After a brief hesitation, she began massaging the shampoo into his scalp. Her movements were sharp and a bit rough, but he still liked it. He inadvertently sighed, and her fingers paused. When she continued, her movements were slightly less hostile.

He couldn’t believe it had been twelve years since he’d felt her touch. Closing his eyes, he recalled when they were teens and they’d touched each other with eagerness and abandon. He’d loved the feel of her soft hands on his skin and remembered all the places she’d touched him. He felt a twitch in his jeans and shifted uncomfortably in the chair.