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This woman doesn’t deserve part of me, she deserves all of me. I have to be willing to give that to her, no holding back, no hesitation.
I want that.
But it doesn’t stop the realization that I have no clue how to do this.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Amara
Entering the salon later than usual I ignore the curious stares from my stylists and move toward the back. Immediately I’m hit with the smell of vinegar I pause and place my hand over my nose and mouth.
It’s awful.
“Sorry,” Hannah hurries around me. “I had to clean out the coffee pot. You know me and my mind, I watched this video about what can grow in those things, and it had me coming in early to clean. It said run it through once to clean but I did it three times. Sort of an overkill but I had to be sure.”
“That is rank,” I wave my hand in front of me still with my nose wrinkled up from the smell. “I’d rather smell a perm.”
“That’s because you are used to that smell.”
I move around the small kitchenette and grab a coffee cup before walking off to the counter and leaning over the pot. “Is this going to taste as bad as this room smells?”
“It was hours ago that I cleaned it, and since then I’ve run several cups of hot water through it. We’ve all had a cup, some more than one. So nope, it's good, no vinegar flavored coffee,” she smiles before exiting the backroom and going back to the front.
I don’t know if it's my mind playing tricks on me but even when I put cream and sugar in my cup I swear I can taste the vinegar.
Trying a few more sips I give up and dump it out in the sink, going for plain water instead.
Setting down at my desk, I pull out this week's numbers and start going through inventory logs and next week's appointments.
Each person rents their own space within the shop. They pay a fee to have their stations and when they need products from the shop, they scan the barcode on that item under their assigned number and they pay the product fees at the end of month. This system also helps me know when to order what, and allows us to never run out of products needed to function.
I am so wrapped up in my paperwork that I don’t notice I am no longer alone until someone clears their throat.
Glancing to the door I find Audrey, leaning against the door frame, watching me with an unreadable expression on her face.
“Hey,” I’ve kept my distance, not wanting to crowd her. That is all she needs, everyone asking questions and making it harder for her to gain her footing. I can’t imagine what it is she is going through, and I hope I never have to live it. I honestly don’t know how her name hasn’t been plastered across all the news channels for murder. I would have cut off Lincoln’s balls and left him to bleed out.
Jerk!
“I have a favor,” she comes closer and sits in the chair opposite mine.
“Name it,” I close my book and give her my undivided attention.
“I have an unexpected meeting and my hair and nails are a mess.” She holds out her hand, and it's really not that bad. “With everything else a mess I want to do this right, ya know.”
“Say no more,” I stand and round my desk.
“I understand if you don’t have time."
“My morning is completely free,” besides an eleven a.m hair cut but I’ll have Hannah take it for me. “Let’s get you in a chair and pampered.”
Together we walk out front, and I spend the next two hours ensuring that my friend feels like she is a goddess. She left the salon with a smile on her face, and that smile alone makes everything fall into place.
She is tough, and she will get through this, I have no doubt.
* * *
My phone beeps in my purse as I am exiting the salon.
