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Harlow
Saturdays are usually the busiest day for me at the shop. Most people have trouble getting time off work during the week for a hair appointment. So, Saturdays are usually booked for at least a month in advance. Today is no different. It’s another reason I called it an early night last night. There’s nothing worse than the chemical smell of hair color when you’re hungover. Believe me, I know.
So, I’d gone home and taken Layna and Piper’s advice and posted Derek’s tools for sale. Well, technically they’re my tools since I bought them. I need to stop thinking of them as his. I paid for them and they’re in my house. So, they’re mine. I still can’t believe I worded that ad the way I did. I’d been going for funny and eye-catching. I guess it worked.
I’ve had so many comments and messages that I turned off the notifications for it. I agreed to meet with the first person who messaged me later today. If they don’t end up buying, I’ll reach out to the next person. But I don’t have time to field dozens of messages from people. I have two more highlights and a haircut today. Then I need to clean up before meeting the buyer at the police station. No way was I giving my address to a stranger.
I manage a few minutes to eat my lunch before Miss Dottie comes in for her appointment. I’ve been styling Miss Dottie’s hair for the past 3 years, ever since she got a bad color job at a chain salon in Savannah. She has a standing appointment with me every 8 weeks and she’s never late. Being in Miss Dottie’s good graces is one of the things that can make or break a business in Peach Tree. She’s kind of the unofficial queen of this town. I do my best to stay on her good side.
I listen to Miss Dottie as she fills me in on the gossip in town. I swear, the woman must have secret spies because she knows more about the scandals in this town than I thought possible. I don’t even know how a town this small could have this much drama. It turns out that Mr. Harris, who owns the hardware store, has been having an affair with his wife’s sister, Stella who manages the post office. It’s why everyone’s mail has been running late for the past month. And apparently when Mrs. Harris found out about her sister and her husband, she cleaned out his bank account and took a vacation to the Bahamas. And the rumors are that she didn’t come back alone.
Miss Dottie also tells me how her niece who works at the grocery store saw Lydia Paulsen buying out the Little Debbie cakes. Which means she’s stressed about something. She only ever eats processed sugar when she feels like eating her feelings. Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, I take in my curves and round ass. Part of me wishes I was more like Lydia. But then I shrug. I like food and I see nothing wrong with that. Besides, I like my curves too. And so do most of the guys I’ve dated. I refuse to feel shame for my body. Women have enough pressure already.
I learn all this while I apply color to Miss Dottie’s hair. I can’t wait to tell Piper all the gossip later. She loves to hear all the juicy news from around town. Especially since neither of us really knows the people involved very well. It’s almost like watching a soap opera, except we get Miss Dottie’s commentary along with it. By the time I lead her over to the sink to rinse her hair, my mind is full of so much new gossip that I don’t know where to start when I talk to Piper later.
I turn on the water and adjust it to a comfortably warm temperature before instructing Miss Dottie to lean back. The water sputters a little before coming back to its full stream and I begin to rinse the color from her hair. I take my time, adding a light scalp massage to the hair-washing. I can see Miss Dottie relaxing into it, enjoying the experience of being pampered. I smile as I lather the shampoo into her short curls, working it through to the ends. I’ve just finished rinsing the conditioner out of her hair when the water sputters again and I hear a gurgling sound. I reach over to turn off the water, but then a loud groan comes from under the sink. Before I can make heads or tails of the sound, a geyser of water erupts from under the sink, straight up into the air.
I freeze as I watch the torrent of water rain down onto Miss Dottie. She lets out a loud scream of shock at the icy water. Because of course it’s cold. I remain frozen for another second before springing into action and pulling Miss Dottie up out of her chair. I motion her toward the front of the shop, away from the torrential downpour taking place near the shampoo bowls.
What the fuck is happening right now?More importantly, how do I make it stop? There must be a cut-off valve, right? I’m sure it’s under the sink. I eye the spray of water. Of course, it is. Where else would it be? Knowing I don’t have a choice, I dart over to the sink and drop to my knees ignoring the way I just went from dry and warm to soaking wet and freezing in a second. How much water is pouring out of this pipe right now? Holy shit. This is bad.
I fumble around under the sink, feeling blindly for the valve to turn off the flow of water. Unfortunately, the spray of water in my face is impairing my vision. I can hear Miss Dottie talking behind me, but I can’t make out what she’s saying over the sound of the water. It doesn’t matter, though. I already know what the next bit of gossip in this town will be. Me.
Shit, shit, shit.
I keep the profanity in my head because I don’t need to give Miss Dottie more ammunition for the gossip canon. Blindly, I feel for the valve that will shut off the water. It takes me a few seconds of being blasted by cold water before I finally feel the metal valve in my hand. I turn it as quickly as I can, but nothing happens. Water continues to pump from what I can now see is a broken pipe. Feeling around some more, I feel another valve. I must have turned off the hot water and it’s clearly the cold water that’s currently trying to drown me. I turn the second valve off and feel immediate relief when the flow of water slows and eventually stops.
The silence in the shop is broken only by the drip, drip, drip of water coming from literally everywhere. I sit on the wet floor and work to catch my breath. I don’t turn to look at Miss Dottie. I don’t know if I’m quite ready to face her judgment. She’s mostly a nice woman, but I’ve never been on her bad side before. I don’t know what that entails, but I’m sure I want no part of it.
Once the water is shut off, I know there’s no way I’ll be able to remain open for the rest of the day. There’s no way I can even finish Dottie’s hair. I can’t work while walking around in 2 inches of standing water. Plus, Dottie and I both look like drowned rats. Unfortunately, the only towels I have in the shop are small towels used specifically for hair. Not that a towel is doing to fix this mess.
I manage to dry Dottie off as best I can, thanking whatever divine intervention let me finish rinsing the conditioner from her hair before all hell broke loose. At least it’s clean and not full of products. She lets me comb out her damp hair and scrunch it with the towel and assures me she’s going straight home. Her clothes are wet, and I hate seeing her leaving here with her hair like this, but there’s nothing else I can do. I wave away her offer to pay for today’s services. The last thing I’m going to do is take her money after what just happened.
Once she’s gone, I lock the front door and flip the sign over to ‘closed’. Then I call my two afternoon clients to cancel their appointments. I try not to think about the lost revenue those clients would have brought in. The thing about hair is that most people don’t want to wait. If they can find someone else to do it while they’re waiting for you, they often will. Especially if you haven’t already earned their loyalty. I have no idea if I’ve just lost their future business or not, but I can’t think about that right now. I turn to survey the room and wince. How the hell am I going to clean this up?
Like most people my age, when I have a problem I don’t know how to solve, I head to the internet for advice. Most of the suggestions say to use a wet/dry vacuum and a rubber squeegee to get rid of the water. Great idea. Except I don’t own either of those things. Though I know she’s working at her shop, I call the only person I know to ask for help. Piper answers on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“Do you own a shop vac and a squeegee?”
“Um…why?”
I sigh. “Do you?”
“No. Why do you need a shop vac and a squeegee?”
I hesitate, though I don’t know why. This is Piper. My closest friend. She’s not going to judge me. She’ll probably want to drop everything to come help. That’s probably the reason I hesitate if I’m being honest with myself. I don’t want to pull her away from her work. I don’t want to be a burden. I lift one foot and watch the water run out of my shoe and splash onto the floor. I can’t fix this alone.
“The shop is flooded, and I need to get the water out,” I say in a miserable voice.
“I’m coming over right now,” Piper says before the call ends abruptly.
I don’t know why I’m hit with a sense of relief that Piper is coming to help. I don’t know what she’ll be able to do that I can’t. But it feels nice to know I’m not alone in this mess. Even if it is my mess. I work to move things off the floor and out of the path of the water while I wait for her to arrive. Luckily the floors are sealed tile, which means they won’t be damaged by the water. But it does make them awfully slippery. I need to be careful not to fall and break something. The last thing I need is to be out of work from a broken arm along with a ruined shop.
The knock on the front door grabs my attention a short time later. Piper must have had to run to get here so fast. I turn and see Piper and Luke standing outside the door. I sigh, knowing I don’t have a choice. I hadn’t wanted more witnesses to my humiliation, but Luke loves Piper and he’s a good guy. Plus, I need all the help I can get to clean this mess. When I open the door to let them in, they both eye me warily before peering around at the flooded shop. Luke lets out a low whistle.
“You weren’t kidding,” Piper says. “It’s flooded.”
