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When she asked me to make her wedding cake it was perfect. I couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity or reason to get out of the city and move north. She was getting married to the love of her life and I desperately wanted to make her cake like we talked about when were undergrads in college. A huge tiered thing made of icing and beauty. I planned to layer it with handmade flowers and a gazebo made of candy glass on top of a Victorian house that looked like her fixer up dream come true.
I just had to look a bit more presentable and emotionally stable before I dropped in on her and her fiancé to announce I was officially the new cake baker and owner of Cake and Battery because who doesn’t love a kitchy pun?
3
Louisa
Our special client left the salon in a loping gait, I assumed from Gemma’s good work in the wax room. I watched her from behind the shades when my assistant, bless her heart, whispered in my ear, “It’s a pretty one.” Because of course my devious assistant got my client’s pants off. She wasn’t going to let me forget that little detail either.
Gemma meowed and I rolled my eyes hard hoping she’d knock it off. My next task would be to hire some normal people around here who kept their noses out of my personal business.
As if I needed visions of her pussy cat dancing in my head like sugar plum fairies. I sighed wishing it could be, except for that rule I had about not dating a client which I seriously considered breaking when the time was right. She’d need color refresh in about six to eight weeks and I was patient.
Carmen left looking gorgeous and walked down the street out of view. I appreciated how she filled out her skinny jeans while Gemma probably appreciated the clean wax she bestowed on her. No, we weren’t creepy or anything like that, but Gemma excelled at making everything dirty in her mind. My mind did one of those blurred bars over Carmen’s body as I sipped my iced Gold Beach roasted coffee letting the comment fly.
“Shush.” I waved her off and resumed cleaning up the station as we opened up the place for late afternoon appointments. The scent of chemical dye and aromatic mint stung my nose in the best way. It was like a drug, my happy place, and endorphin booster all in one. The sensory effect drowned out bad memories and replaced them with better ones.
“Oh come on, boss lady. I saw the way you were looking at her. I’m just saying I saw a nice one, and I’ve seen close to most of them in this town, including yours.”
Right.
Only slightly awkward, and very little embarrassed me or caught me off guard. Gemma was an expert Brazilian wax specialist. Seemed odd to focus on that, but her clients brought a booming business to the Vodka and Wash primping the rest of their bodies so I wasn’t going to complain in the least.
“I might have left her a little…” Her perfect twin eyebrows waggled nefariously.
“Enough!” I wouldn’t make it through the rest of the day thinking about pretty pink things and a landing strip when I had a trio of elderly ladies coming in for wash and styles in ten minutes. We were after all, a full service salon, just not that kind of full service. I liked my cosmetology license and I wasn’t risking it by propositioning a client and having the local PD bust my establishment for a happy ending.
Pretty sure my eighth grade hook up, Noah would love that. He wasn’t anywhere near the shop and I already felt his smarmy snark giving me that look. We remained good friends, and partners on Jenga nights, if awkwardly eying the other up from time to time. I guess being each other’s firsts does that to people when you never leave the town you grew up in. He was stuck in the bachelor cycle while I got my jollies watching The Bachelor making bets with Gemma and Tommy over who would go home first. That show was a bad addiction I needed to quit.
Speaking of addictions, the doorbell jingled and Francesca Wilson breezed inside. It was obvious why my brother liked her so much. She carried herself like a regal princess and sometimes had the attitude of a spoiled one. I saved all the foreign magazines for her and made Gemma bring her a spiced espresso. This woman had refined tastes, but it amused me to watch her turn into a tongue tied teenager when my brother went to work on her hair.
Tommy definitely had that magic touch or what the ladies called his voodoo fingers when he massaged their scalps during a wash that was usually left to our level one stylists. I’d say the bulk of his tip money came from that, but since Francesca started coming, he only washed her hair and no one else’s.
“Speak of the she-devil.” Gemma leaned in whispering.
“Where’s Tommy.” I discretely scanned the shop but didn’t see his black jean and tatted ass anywhere.
“Backroom.” Gemma nodded. He must have slipped i
n earlier and left us women to our witch work during the Medusa slaying.
“Get him.” I nudged her in the direction and walked forward to greet Francesca.
“Hello, Ms. Wilson.”
She greeted me with a small smile and tucked a lock of perfectly coiffed hair behind her ear. Her voice was a low sultry mix of classic New Yorker and all business. You’d never know by her meek demeanor inside the salon that she worked a high powered corporate job in a legal department. I guess there was something to be said for ceding control when the time was right, but that was an image of my brother I’d rather not think about.
“I’m here to see Tommy.” As if she were here for anyone else. She handed me her coat and purse smelling of pricey perfume and expensive leather. I took both to hang up in our special client closet.
“He’ll be right out, can Gemma get you the usual?”
“Yes, please.” The poor woman looked like she was about to pass out. If I could have tossed a cheeseburger at her I would. Her busy life and flashy job probably kept her busy overworked and underfed. As it were, a stiff breeze could have knocked her down.
“How’s the city these days?” I made small talk glancing toward the back. Where the hell was my brother?
“It’s uh, the same I guess. Work and meetings.” Her cheeks flushed and I guided her to Tommy’s station.
“I wanted to thank you for looking into the property issue I was having.” I didn’t go into detail on the shop floor, but Francesca called a lawyer friend of hers when my ex started harassing me over rights to the shop.
