Page 46 of Mountain Man Officer

“Except on lunch break,” Ava reminded her.

“No exceptions!” Lena barked. “I don’t pay you to go to lunch.”

Ava and I looked at each other in disbelief.

“Excuse me,” the customer said. “I don’t like the way you’re talking to your employees.”

“Nobody asked you,” Lena growled, chopping at the lady’s hair like it was a hedge she was trimming.

“Stop!” the lady gasped. Ava rushed to her side, helping her out of the chair. The customer threw off her plastic bib, her eyes sparkling with rage. “I am never coming back here!”

Lena held her scissors awkwardly, stunned at the woman’s response.

“I am going to give this place a negative Yelp review,” the customer exclaimed.

“We’re not on Yelp,” Lena retorted.

I grabbed the customer by the hand and hurried her to the door, grabbing a business card on the way before Lena could make a bigger scene. “Here.” I handed over the card, pushing the door open. “She usually doesn’t work weekends, but you can call before you come. I am so sorry about this. Your next trim will be on the house.”

The woman took my hand in her own and whispered, “I’ll pray for you.”

I smiled tightly before pulling the door shut and going back to my station.

Lena stalked back to the office, slamming the door behind her.

I looked at Ava, who shook her head. It wasn’t safe to talk.

“What the fuck?” Ava mouthed.

I shrugged. “Let’s just keep all the customers away from her,” I whispered.

Ava nodded in agreement.

An hour later, I was working on an older gentleman, trying to trim what was left of his hair, when Lena’s husband arrived. I had seen him several times during my six years at the salon. He was tall and broad-shouldered, not bad looking if you didn’t include his face. His nose was just a little too large, and his chin stuck out, making him look like a cartoon. I nodded and waved before continuing my work.

“Lena’s in the back,” Ava said helpfully.

The man strode through the salon to the office door and, without knocking, opened it and burst in. Immediately, we began to hear voices. The walls were thin, and the door was made of particleboard. The couple on the inside thought they had privacy, but the three of us in the salon could hear everything.

“What are you doing here?” Lena snapped.

“Calm down,” came her husband’s voice.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Lena screamed. “The shipment is late.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, set it down on the styling desk, and hit Record.

“Take it easy,” her husband said.

“It’s never late!” Lena cried. “Something must have happened. Did you hear anything?”

“I haven’t talked to them.”

“Well, get them on the phone!”

“And say what? That we messed up?”

“That wasn’t me.”

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