Page 1 of Solemn Vow

“So,then I decided, fuck it. I chopped off his dick.”

I freeze, bring my gaze down at the heavily outlined brown eyes staring up at me.

Chantelle, my last client of the day, giggles up at me from the sink she’s hanging over while I wash out her hair.

“Oh! You are awake. Good.” She grins. Even upside down, she has a perfect smile. Since she’s heir to a multimillion-dollar company, I wouldn’t expect anything else from her.

“Sorry.” I frown. My mind hasn’t been on my work all day. I can’t wait to get out of here and head over to Izzy’s, my closest friend in the world. An evening of good food and a horrible movie of her choosing sounds like heaven after the last few weeks I’ve had.

I finish rinsing out her long blonde tresses and wind them up in a towel.

“Your mind was definitely somewhere else. What’s going on?” she asks on our journey to my workstation. Not many clients would notice how withdrawn I’ve been, but Chantelle is aregular. Every Friday for the last three months she’s in my chair at Luxe Strands, one of Chicago’s most high-end salons.

After two years, I’ve finally gotten my own chair in the salon. I won’t pretend I didn’t earn it; I climbed my way up from sweeping hair to get this chance.

“Just been a long week.” I smile at her through the mirror as I gather what I need for her weekend blowout. “Are we going hair up or down this weekend?”

She scrunches up her lips while thinking for a moment.

“Tonight, I have a fundraiser thing with my father.” She rolls her eyes. Her dad drags her all over the place showing her off like some prized pony waiting for her turn on the track. “But tomorrow I have a breakfast with the Degrees of Impact foundation.”

“Okay, how about down tonight, that way you can just do a quick refresh in the morning and head to the breakfast. If we put it up, there’s going to be pins to deal with.”

She nods. “Yes. Good idea. Down with big curls?”

I set up the curling iron, then grab the hair dryer and brush to get started.

While I work on getting her long hair dried and ready for the curling iron, she swipes on her phone. Social media and then email. I’m grateful for the moments of quiet.

In the back pocket of my black slacks, my phone vibrates, making my insides chill. It’s Friday and I’m two days late on delivery.

I try to push my mind away from the problem vibrating in my pocket, but another message comes through and then another.

I grit my teeth and switch over to the curling iron. Without the noise from the hair dryer, Chantelle starts up a conversation again.

At least I can concentrate on her story instead of desperately trying to figure out where I’m going to get the next paymentfrom. I’ve already blown through what little savings I had, and borrowed as much cash from my credit card as is allowed. I’m trapped.

It’s not going to mean anything to Jimmy Agosti, though.

“Marlena? Marlena?” Chantelle snaps her fingers in front of my face. I guess losing myself in her life isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.

“Sorry.” I finish the last curl and go about perfecting the look for her.

“You really need a vacation.” She tries to push levity into her smile, but I see the concern.

“I’m fine. Just really looking forward to this weekend.” Though having hours on Saturday would probably make me the money I desperately need. But my chair is only mine during the week unless someone with more seniority needs the time off.

“Doing something fun, I hope.” She glances back at her phone then swipes it closed.

“No. Just hanging with my friend tonight. Maybe a movie tomorrow night.” Maybe I can find some loose change beneath the recliners at the theater. “Ready for the spray?” I wiggle the hairspray in my hand.

She nods.

“Go for it.” She shuts her eyes, while I finish up her look. By the time I’m done, she looks ready to walk down the runway, or head into the most stylish club in Chicago.

“Perfect.” She grins when I step away from the mirror and let her inspect her final look. “You’re always so spot on with my hair. I love it.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder and pulls off the black robe the salon provides to protect the client’s clothes.

My phone goes off again as she gathers her purse, and I force myself to leave it alone.

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