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I was in a funk the rest of the day, and it only felt worse without Foster there. Oscar made up for it, though, and if I didn’t have him, it would’ve been even lonelier.
How did it go? Foster texted me that night. Oscar and I slept in his bed without him, and I reveled in Foster’s scent infused in the sheets and pillows. I found it potent and comforting, which was another sign I was in too deep, that I was feeling things for Foster I shouldn’t have, and it would be hard to break away when it was time to leave.
But I didn’t want to get sucked into another scenario where I didn’t have anything of my own besides my job. It was too easy to get swept up in this life with him. Of course, he was nothing like Clint, so it was more about me falling too easily. Though…I never felt like this before. Foster wasn’t perfect, he had his own struggles, but him sharing so openly, his compassion shining through, only made him more endearing.
Not sure it was the right place for me…or if I was right for them.
That’s okay, it takes time to find something that fits.
He always had the right thing to say.
I still feel I shouldn’t be picky. Not that they’ll offer me the job. It’s the kind of place I might’ve liked before. Trendy and high-end, but I’m not sure that’s me anymore.
Why shouldn’t you be picky? Why be miserable unless you absolutely have to? Take your time and figure it out. I like having you around.
That warmed my stomach.
Your sheets smell like you, I typed, then held my breath.
Fuck, I love hearing that. Your hoodie smells like you.
So you admit you took it! I grinned at my phone.
I needed something that reminded me of you.
Guess we’re both pathetic.
I think you spelled smitten wrong, he replied, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
LOL! Suppose I did. Had I really admitted that? How’s your conference?
Boring. But aren’t they all?
The next day, I wore the black jeans with a different shirt to my interview, and maybe because I had gotten the other one out of the way, I felt pretty confident going into this one. I decided to just be myself even if I fell flat on my face.
This shop was within walking distance—well, at least on decent-weather days. About fifteen minutes by foot up Carnegie Avenue, I spotted the striped awning from the other side of the street, so I paused to check it out. The blond-brick veneer was in decent shape, along with a welcome mat and planted flower boxes near the front door.
I crossed at the light and stepped inside Urban Cuts.
I immediately heard laughter between two men in barber chairs, and then the other clients waiting their turn joined in. The front desk had no receptionist, so more than likely, they didn’t take appointments. The men waiting probably just chose a day to show up and tested their luck. But given the comfortable atmosphere and easy banter, these men didn’t mind socializing in the meantime.
“Can I help you?” asked a man with dark, wavy hair.
“I’m here to see Carlos about a job.”
“I’m Carlos.” He motioned toward where everyone else was waiting. “Have a seat. I’ll finish up and be right with you.”
“Sounds good.” I sat down beside an older gentleman with balding gray hair and listened to his conversation with the man next to him. The men seemed familiar with each other’s lives, talking about family members and weekend plans. That was the case in many salons between customers and stylists, but this felt different, more like a neighborhood vibe, and when the gentleman beside me included me in the conversation, I relaxed even more.
I watched how Carlos and the other barber at the station beside him expertly used their clippers, and I momentarily panicked. Not that I never used them, but I hadn’t practiced lately. Clippers and razors tended to be used for closer, more refined shaves and mostly in barbershops. Scissors were preferred at salons, so I didn’t know if my style would mesh. Or maybe I’d just have to adapt.
“Follow me,” Carlos said, breaking me out of my thoughts.
The other barber smiled as I passed by, and two of the customers wished me luck.
“Thanks,” I said with a grin.
The third chair at the far corner was empty, so more than likely, they hoped to fill the vacancy with a new employee. Could that be me?
Deep breaths. You got this.
Carlos sat down at a desk in the back office, and I took the chair in front of him. There were papers everywhere in what I’d call an organized mess.
“I printed out your résumé without running out of ink, so that was a win,” Carlos said.
I chuckled. “I swear the printer business is a conspiracy.”
