“I guess not.” I smile, taking the bag holding her dog. Knowing the drill, I carry him over to my station, set him next to it, open the side pocket, pull out the small collapsible bowl there, go to the sink, and fill it with water. Then I take it back, setting it inside his bag, while Mrs. Ethel removes the scarf around her neck along with her ever-present pearls. Once she’s seated, I drape a cape around her then turn her to face the mirror. “Are we doing the usual?” I ask, and she rolls her eyes.
Taking that as a yes, I spend the next two hours trimming her hair, coloring it an off shade of grayish purple, and then teasing and hair spraying the crap out of it. By the time I’m done, she looks the same as she always does, just a little more refreshed.
After paying, she hands me a three-dollar tip, takes her dog out of the bag, and leaves without so much as a thank you. Cleaning up my station so I can leave, I listen with one ear as Chris recounts his run-in with Sage to Ellie, Selma, and Sejla, who ooh and aah over his story. You would think by the way he describes it that it was the most amazing night of his life and that he didn’t get punched in the face.
I don’t care that he’s telling them about what happened, since Ellie knew from the beginning that Chris and I have never been anything more than friends. And Selma and Sejla are cool, but I don’t know them enough to feel embarrassed that they know I lied about Chris being my boyfriend.
“So what now?” Selma asks, and I hear a pause in the conversation and turn to find all eyes on me.
“What?”
“What now? What are you going to do now that he knows the truth?” Selma clarifies.
“Nothing,” I say, and Sejla frowns.
“Nothing?” she repeats, studying me with a disbelieving and disappointed look in her eyes.
“You need to at least give him a chance!” Selma cries, spinning around in the chair to face me, dislodging Ellie’s hands from her hair.
“I agree. You need to at least hear him out,” Sejla says, and I know she and her sister mean well, but it’s so easy for them to say I need to just give him a chance, because their hearts aren’t on the line here. Mine is.
Seeing both Selma and Sejla waiting for my response, I mutter, “I’ll talk to him.”
“Good,” they say in unison, and I smile at the happy and relieved looks on their faces. Pulling my eyes from them, I look at Chris.
“Are you ready?”
“Yep.” He stands from the chair that he has been sitting in then goes about giving the girls air kisses and farewells. Saying goodbye to everyone, we leave the salon, and I head to my car while Chris goes to his, telling me he will meet me at the store.
“So how was work?” Chris asks as we grab a cart and walk into the grocery store fifteen minutes later.
“Good.”
“Anything happen?” he continues, and I look at him and narrow my eyes.
“Why?”
“Just wondering. Ellie said that Sage stopped by the salon today.”
“He did.”
“And?”
“And nothing. He came by the salon, asked if we could talk, my answer was no, and he left.”
“What?” His eyes grow with surprise. “He didn’t demand you change your mind or toss you over his shoulder and speed away with you in his truck to hide you in a secluded cabin, where he could convince you of the mistake you’re making by not taking a chance on him?” he asks, and I stare at him, blinking.
“I think you’ve been reading too many romance novels.”
“You can never read too many romance novels,” he scoffs, making me smile. Chris is the only guy I’ve ever met who is more obsessed with romance books than I am. “So what exactly happened? Tell me everything.”
“Nothing happened. Like I said, he came in, told me we needed to talk, I said no we didn’t, and he left.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. I’ve known you since we were five. I know your tell.”
“My tell?”
“Yeah, when you lie, your nose twitches.”
“My nose does not twitch,” I say, touching my fingers to my nose.
“It does.” He smiles, pulling my hand away from my face.
“Whatever,” I mutter, picking up a bag of oranges and dropping them in the cart.
“So when are you going to talk to him?”
“Never.”
“He apologized. Don’t you think you should do the polite thing and at least hear him out?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, or you’re just too scared to find out what will happen if you do?”
“Do we have to do this right now?” I sigh, and he tosses his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side.