Page 28 of Dreams on the Ice

Reaching out, I take her hand in mine and give her a gentle squeeze. She doesn’t want my pity, but she’s getting my support no matter what. She’s been a client since I was in beauty school, so I’m not just going to brush her off and fuck her hair up all in the same day.

“You’re kind and beautiful,” I whisper. “Whatever he did, that was on him, not you. But I’m going to make you see your beauty because it’s there. Don’t ever let him take that from you. Trust me?” I ask.

She smiles. It’s a small smile, and it doesn’t reach her eyes, but she tries, and that is the first step. Turning her back around, I take a look at her bleached-blonde hair and harsh, blunt cut, and I make my decision.

“Have you ever heard of the new color trend, old-money blonde?” I ask.

“I haven’t,” she whispers.

With a hum, my decision is confirmed. “You’re going to love it. I mean, it’s not as drastic as red, but it’s enough that you will feel and look like a completely different person.”

God, the idea of turning her hair red kind of makes my stomach turn. Not because I dislike red. I like red, but the maintenance is hell, and not everyone can pull it off.

“I’m also going to add some soft highlights,” I murmur.

And then I leave my client to go in the back and mix her new color. I step into the mixing room to get all of my supplies and start to create the color that I know will make her feel brand new and gorgeous when the door opens and Ayden calls out my name.

Lifting my head, I look at her. She’s watching me from the doorjamb and tilts her head to the side. I roll my lips a few times as I wait for her to continue. I have no idea what she’s going to say, but it’s clear this isn’t a joke. This is something serious.

“Have you been online recently?” she asks.

“Why would I?” I ask.

She whistles, then takes a step toward me. The last time there was online social media drama, it was totally blown out of proportion and was nothing the way it seemed. So, since then, I’ve stayed away from it all. I post things for the salon and answer messages. That’s the extent of my social media.

“There’s a girl on there who has gone semi-viral. She says that she’s Forrest’s fiancée and that you’re the other woman. I know it’s bullshit, but the comments are gross, and she’s made sure to play the victim, crying and giving everyone enough information to figure out who you are. It’s a bloodbath.”

“Kiki,” I whisper.

Ayden’s eyes widen. I only told the girls the highlights of my trip with Forrest. We got together, and the parties were fabulous, but his parents weren’t super awesome. What I didn’t tell them was that it’s clear Forrest’s mother wants him with Kiki.

I didn’t mention it because it was not important to me. Now I wish I had, then this wouldn’t be so surprising. But to me,if Forrest wanted to be with her, he would be. So, it wasn’t anything worth mentioning.

He’s not the kind of man to do something he doesn’t want to do, especially since he isn’t working for his father to get his inheritance. If he were that kind of man, he would have dropped everything and run to his father for the cash.

“Kiki?” she asks.

I’m so lost in thought that I forgot she was there. I jerk my head and give her a small smile. “Yeah,” I exhale. “Some family friend, and it was clear to me that his mom wanted them together. God, she’s a bitch, too.”

Ayden laughs, then rolls her lips together before she speaks. “Well, seems like the bitch is going to be a problem.”

“As much as I want to say it’s only a problem if I allow it to be a problem, I know the power of social media, and we have a business to run,” I murmur.

“You need to talk to Forrest,” she murmurs. “But I’m not going to tell you what to do or how to handle things.”

Thanking her, I take my mixed and ready color to my client. Pushing throughs of Kiki and Forrest out of my head, I give all my energy and focus to my client. I’ll worry about the other stuff later.

But not too much later, because if Kiki is being the kind of bitch it sounds like she’s being, I need to stop it from growing and morphing into something really freaking ugly.

FORREST

Ignoring the call from my mother, I head toward the car. I just left my attorney’s office, and shit does not look good. Mybirthday is in a week, and I know I’m not getting my money delivered to me on a silver platter the way I imagined.

In fact, he doesn’t think I have a leg to stand on—in other words.

I’m fucked.

Starting my car, I stare at the attorney’s office and let out a grunt. I should go to my father and just give in. Brooklynn is right. This is not just for me but for my children as well. I can’t do that and live with myself, though. I can’t give in to my father’s demands. I’ve come way too far for that.

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