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On the other side of the door, I took a step back, admiring the logo printed on the new -expensive -glass. It was simple, but it was mine, and made me feel… solid.
Yeah.
“Tempest Lane?”
The sound of my name made me turn around, to see two cops approaching me. Instantly, my shoulders tensed, but I put on a neutral face.
“Yes?”
It was a quick conversation.
Apparently, my little creep friend - the one who’d grabbed me at Urban Grind, harassed Kiara, etc. - was a fucking criminal all around. He’d been picked up for something else, and immediately started screaming about how “That candle shop bitch deserved what she got, that bitch cut me!”
Did I know anything about him being cut?
No, officer, of course not. That’s crazy!
He’d say anything to get himself out of trouble, right?
They bought it. And they moved on from there, assuring me that he wouldn’t be seeing the streets of the neighborhood anytime soon, which I guess was supposed to give me some of comfort.
Not really.
ReallyI wanted them to go away, cause their asses made me nervous too.
It felt… too easy.
Not that Iwantedto be looking over my shoulder for whoever had broken into the shop, but in the list of possibilities for who might’ve been behind that break-in, ol’ boy had been low to me.
Or maybe I was overthinking it… expecting the worst.
Anyway.
I was definitely late for my appointment now, but the stylist was cool, brushing off my apology with a wave when I did arrive.
“My last clientjustwalked out of here like two minutes ago, so you’re fine,” she insisted, ushering me into her chair. “Otherwise, I’d be feeling bad for having you waiting. Let’s get you started today.”
I’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone else doing this stuff for me.
In theGarden, it had been standard – professional haircare, skincare, the works. We learned the basics of doing it all ourselves if necessary, but when a certain level of aesthetics was a requirement of the business model, you mostly left it to the experts.
Since it all fell apart, I’d been doing it myself.
Now, it was amazing to have skilled hands doing the shampooing, detangling, deep conditioning, all that. Beyond the actual haircare, the salon itself was a soothing environment, rich and vibrant with all its smells and loud voices and the hum of the dryers and laughter.
“You have such nicestronghair,” Andrea – my stylist – complimented as she combed through my tresses, preparing for my blowout. “I can tell you’ve been taking good care of it.”
“That’s all her hair?!”
I rolled my eyes at the sound of Nya’s voice. She’d been staring a hole in the side of my head since she came in, but I’d opted for simply ignoring her.
“You watched me shampoo her and all that – youknowit’s her hair,” Andrea replied, sounding annoyed.
At the next station, Nya sucked her teeth, clearly bored while her client was under the dryer. “I’m just saying, it was looking like some kinda homemade extensions the way she was walking around here looking. My bad.”
“Find some damn business.”
I kept my lips shut, letting the conversation remain between Andrea and Nya. I’d had a great morning with Tristan, and no interest in letting her rile me.
