Page 6 of Power Plays & Proposals

"Lia, do I pay you to read magazines?"

I looked up to see the salon owner in the entryway. The boss lady always left an impression, and today was no exception. Dressed in shiny black heels, black jeans, a button-up silky white shirt, and a black blazer, Priscilla looked like she'd stepped off a runway somewhere as she pulled a red scarf from her sleek Victoria Beckham style bob. She tipped her black umbrella over her slim shoulder and water dripped to the floor as she pointedly looked at the magazine in my hand.

I dropped it to the table as if it had bit me. "No, Ma'am. I was just straightening the area up."

"Well, now that you're done ogling the hockey model, help me with my umbrella."

I took the thing from her and folded it up.

"You got water all over the floor. Be a dear and mop it up. It's a slipping hazard." She walked away from me towards her office. Pausing for a moment by the black door with a hand on the silver doorknob. "Oh, and I don't want to be disturbed today. So there better be a fire or a lot of money involved if you bother me."

She closed the door, unconcerned with if I needed help or not. Not that I would go to her, I'd learned on my first day that no one bothered the boss if they wanted to keep their opportunity at the salon.

"Yes, Ma'am," I muttered.

Hurrying to do what she asked, I got the string mop out of the back and wiped up the water her designer heels and umbrella had left behind on the black and white tiles. If mopping up after her meant that checks would be done faster I'd mop every time the door opened today.

Charlotte finished with her client, and walked her to the door, after the door closed she turned to me. "I just realized I forgot my lunch today. Do you mind being the only one on the floor while I go grab something to eat?"

"Go get food." I waved her towards the door. "I'll hold down the fort."

She smiled. "You're a peach. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to eat until I got home. Oh, and I was totally ogling Mr. Hockey earlier today, but I'm glad it wasn't me the boss caught."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, but you know he's probably got a model girlfriend or something."

Shaking her head she spouted out, "He doesn't, I read the interview. He's single."

"Then what's wrong with him?" I asked.

"One of these days, we're going to have a girls' night, and you're going to spill your guts on why you are so against dating."

"I'm not against it, I just don't want to waste time on dating frogs. Is it too much to want my own prince charming?"

Charlotte had been after me to spill the details of my break up too, but I knew as soon as she and Maria joined forces at book club there was no way I'd get out of sharing. Better to talk about Mr. Hockey than Ted.

She sighed dreamily. "Well, if Mr. Hockey were to waltz in here and ask you to dinner you'd better let him."

"Fine. If Mr. Hockey ever asks me out, I promise to say yes." I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the idea of it. There was no way a guy like him would ever be interested in a girl like me. "Go get your lunch."

I shooed her towards the door and finished cleaning up the water on the tile.

I'd only stepped out of the break room from putting the mop away when the front door opened and a girl who looked to be about eleven, in a pair of white sneakers, jeans that looked like they were getting a little short, and an oversized lavender Taylor Swift hoodie eagerly bounced in.

She was followed by a woman who looked about my age and could put any New York Fashion Week model to shame. While my boss had a slick edge to her fashion, this woman looked elegant in her creamy cashmere sweater, tailored tan pants, and matching raincoat. She lifted a French tip manicured hand to the tortoiseshell shades and placed them on top of her straight bob cut with bangs. Her hair was the same color as her sweater and I had no doubt it was intentional on the woman's part. Intentional at drawing attention to the crisp eyeliner and plum lipstick or to the matching gold necklace and earrings that were large enough to catch attention, but not so large as to be gaudy.

Smiling in welcome, I introduced myself and asked what I could help them with.

The daughter eagerly grinned at me. "Mom says I can dye my hair."

"Shush Penelope." Her mother turned to me, no trace of the bubbliness she'd squashed in her daughter. "She's here for a cut. I called earlier."

That feeling in my gut twisted, "Sure. If you want to have a seat over here." I pointed to the seating area, "Penelope why don't you come have a seat in my chair and we can discuss what will make the both of you happy."

Her mother let out a sound of disgust, "There's no reason to talk it through. Give her a straight bob like mine."

Her daughter had long blond hair pulled into a ponytail that fell more than halfway down her back. "I don't want a bob, Mom."

"Fine, a pixie cut then."

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