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“Gotcha!” Gemma and Kristen yelled at once. Lia left out the back door and my two helpers went to work in the mixing room.
“You can fix this?” she whispered.
“Honey, I can fix anything with hair. By the way, I’m Louisa and I own the shop here.” Confidence typically closed the deal and the woman shut her eyes taking a deep breath. Relief seemed to flush her cheeks as she sagged into the chair.
“Hi, I’m Carmen, and I am never coloring my hair again.” She relaxed and I squeezed her arm gently, reassuringly thankful the lines blurred a bit for women to share physical contact in a situation like this. I’m sure if I was dude she would have bolted already.
“I’m going to make you promise that when we finish here today.” I held out my pinkie which she took in her own and we shook on it.
“Trust me.” Rolling her eyes, she continued, “I’m over the box shit. I’m a baker, I should know better. I don’t even use box mixes for baking. I don’t know what I was thinking with my hair.” That must explain the sweet smell coming from her skin making my mouth water.
“Why don’t you start by telling me what prompted you to do it in the first place.”
“Well, I decided I was off the man train and wanted a change.” Bingo. Carmen was not only my new project, but my next official girl crush. No one runs to Lady Clairol without some serious reasons or stubborn greys, and I was determined to learn all of her secrets and maybe see if her Chapstick covered lips tasted like cherries.
What did I say about not poaching clients?
Oh yeah, I was shit at following my own rules.
“We can definitely do change. You’ve come to the right place.” She calmed down in the chair and I put a cape around her narrow and nervous shoulders. This was going to be fun, at least for me.
“Maybe not a lot of change. Just–back to normal?” Her nerves were adorable.
I crossed my arms and walked around her chair taking in every detail from her pink lips and adorably sloped nose to her slender and delicate fingers. Everything about her was tiny and perfect. I was no Amazon, but I held my own.
“I’m thinking something with dramatic highlights to bring out your eyes. You’re bone structure is gorgeous so let’s play that up with a trim, face frame of layers, okay?” She nodded and Gemma returned with the waxing station on wheels. This wasn’t the color I asked for, but whatever. We’d start here if that’s what my assistant wanted.
“The mix needs to set for ten minutes. So let’s go all in, I need to practice my waxing.” Gemma grinned holding up a gauzy strip and poor Carmen looked horrified.
“Easy, Gem.” I chided her. Clearly this amused her and I let her have her fun. There was no harm in cleaning up her brows while we were here.
“No.” Shaking her head I was taking another set of bets certain she was going to bolt for the door, if not before, then definitely now. Good thing I had Gemma lock it. I didn’t have a kidnapping fantasy but there was a first time for everything.
Gemma cooed patting her hand. “Oh honey, tell me you’ve at least had the good ol’beaver trimmed?”
“I…no…wait.” Carmen’s hands gripped the chair.
“No?” Now I was surprised. Everybody trimmed. We might be living in a small liberal town, but the hippie hair look went out with the last Visco-girl invasion.
“Oh Louisa, she’s got one.” Gemma elbowed me snickering while she plugged in the wax heater. I was betting my right hand girl knew I was crushing on the client and trying to rile me at the same time.
“Mmm.” I agreed while I mixed up the colorant Kristen handed me with a set of new black coloring gloves. Carmen was on her own with Gemma who could get a little overzealous in her epilation.
“I’ve got one what?” Whispering, Carmen leaned over in the chair, her hair a halo of hot mess medusa curling over half her face.
Gemma leaned in licking her lips before speaking. “Snatchsquatch.”
2
Carmen
“I’m–I’m sorry, what did you say?” The other hairdresser, the assistant named Gemma bit her lip almost afraid to impart the words again that I barely heard the first time. Was everyone in this town crazy? They must be, and I hadn’t even been here long enough to unpack my boxes or meet up with my college roomie and bestie. Apparently, I had a box right here that was going to need protecting in this shop from the wax-wielding crazy girl.
“Snatchsquatch.” She said with a straight face like I was supposed to know.
Apparently so.
Someone muttered about hash-tagging that shit, it might have been the girl Kristen with the red highlights in her dark hair, and I had to think what they actually meant.
