Page 1 of Captivating Anika

CHAPTER ONE

Anika

Oh, that first hit of coffee. There’s nothing like it.

I sit down behind my computer in the small office at the back of the Chop Shop, turn it on, and pull up my schedule for the day.

Every day I wake up, drink my sixteen ounces of water, and head out on my morning walk before I get ready for work. It’s a routine which has worked for me since my diagnosis last year. I’m actually feeling the positive impact of my new regime, which includes yoga, healthier food choices, and dramatically reducing my alcohol intake.

Before, I would start with a pot of coffee the moment I rolled out of bed, barely able to move. The mornings were long and painful. Now I make sure I’m well hydrated first, then a walk on the trail helps to gently loosen the stiffness in my joints, so by the time I’m out and in public I look fine.

The girls at work had noticed I wasn’t moving smoothly and started asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer. I wanted a chance to come to terms with my condition and get a handle on it before making it public knowledge. The last thing I wanted was pitying looks and well-intended advice.

I had plans for my future and wasn’t about to let my diagnosis distract me from those. So I did my research, talked to my doctor and, through some trial and error, found a routine with a minimum of medical intervention which seems to work for me.

So well, in fact, I haven’t even bothered informing my family. Everyone assumes I’m trying to lose weight and live a little healthier, and I don’t feel like disavowing them of that notion.

Anyhow, I allow myself one fabulous cup of coffee in the morning, before the rest of the crew and the first of my day’s customers show up.

I take a sip and softly moan at the creamy yet bold flavor. That espresso machine I invested in a few months ago was worth it. Not only do I enjoy my daily treat, but the customers do as well. We have a small fridge stocked with creamers, milks, and flavored syrups, so we can make their coffees to order. I think it’s done a lot to elevate the salon experience the Chop Shop offers, as is evident from the packed schedule I have this week.

“Morning!”

I lean back in my chair so I can peek around the wall to the front of the salon, where Landon is dumping his backpack at his work station.

“Morning,” I return with a grin.

Today, Landon’s hair is a vibrant orange bisected with black streaks, matching the image of Tigger displayed on the front of his black T-shirt. Last week it was Kelly green and he was wearing black patent leather shoes with big shiny brass buckles.

He’s a character, but a phenomenal color artist, and I’m so glad I took a chance on him two years ago. He’d been a bit of a shock to the system when he walked into the interview wearing a tiara and a feather boa, but I quickly warmed to his flamboyant but inherently kind character. His addition to the team was a substantial part of the growth my salon has seen in the last few years.

“You like?”

He flips his hair as he ducks into the coffee nook.

“Very cool,” I comment. “How long did that take?”

“Three and a half hours. But I binge-watched a couple of episodes of Reacher so it was well worth it. Did you watch it yet?” he asks as he grinds beans for his morning coffee.

He’s been urging me to watch that show but I haven’t gotten around to it. I haven’t been watching a lot of TV lately, plus I’ve had my hands full with my house. Stripping wallpaper, ripping up carpet, and then painting. The downstairs was done before I moved in last year, with my brother, Bodhi, and a few guys on his crew at Fire Station 3 helping out, but I’d put off the upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms until I had a chance to replenish my savings. I just started working on my bedroom a few weeks ago.

“Haven’t had a chance,” I tell him honestly. “My bedroom has priority right now.”

“I told you before, if you want help, all you gotta do is ask. As you know, I’m a master with a brush.”

“And I appreciate the offer, but I really want to do as much as I can myself. Kinda put my own stamp on the place.”

Landon pokes his head around the corner. “Are you implying you couldn’t do that with me around?”

It is in fact what I’m suggesting, since Landon has very strong opinions when it comes to anything to do with color or design. Or anything else, for that matter.

I’m saved from answering when Monique walks in, followed closely by the youngest member of our team, Molly.

Monique is my right-hand woman. She and I have worked together for about fifteen years or so and are good friends. The two of us started off around the same time at Durango Hair Design, which was located just a few blocks south of here on Main. The salon closed down seven years ago, which is when I took the leap and, with a little investment from my parents I’ve since paid back, was able to buy this building and open the Chop Shop. Monique joined me shortly after, and the rest is history.

Up until I moved into my place last fall, I lived in the small apartment above the salon. It was a financially smart move, since it allowed me to save up enough for a decent down payment on a house, and I actually enjoyed living smack-dab downtown where the action is.

That changed over time, and last year I was ready to find something with a little more space, with parking right outside the door, and in a quieter neighborhood. It just so happened my friend, Lindsey, put her house on the market at the same time I started looking, and I snatched it up.

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