Page 4 of Waiting for a Prince
He retreated into the kitchen and poured boiling water onto the tea bag. He stood there, eyes closed, fists clenched. Mark hated scenes like this, so reminiscent of his childhood. Christ, Sam could have been his father, only the man had never once stood up to his wife like Sam had just now in all their sixteen years of marriage. Mark had to fight to maintain his composure.
Don’t think about that now. Dad’s out of it, thank God.
The sound of someone clearing their throat had Mark opening his eyes in a hurry. He sighed with relief when he saw it was Sonia, who regarded him anxiously.
“Are you all right, sweetie?” She laid a gentle hand on his arm, her soft voice like music. Sonia’s family came from Portugal, but her accent seemed to be a hybrid of different nationalities. She always spoke kindly to everyone, and give them their due, no one had a bad word to say about the woman.
“Has she gone?” Mark asked. The salon was quiet once more, save for the music and the soft murmurs between the stylists and their clients. Sonia nodded and Mark pushed out the breath he’d been holding in a long exhale.
“Anything you want to tell me about, Mark?” She squeezed his arm.
Mark shook his head, although he was genuinely touched. “Nothing you could help with, Sonia.” He leaned across and kissed her cheek and she blushed fetchingly. “But thank you.” She patted his arm and withdrew, leaving him to sip his tea in silence.
Unfortunately, a sip or two was all he had time for.
Marie stuck her head around the door and tapped her watch impatiently.
“But this is my bre—” That was as far as he got before Marie’s eyes bulged.
“The salon is a mess, Mark. That’s your responsibility, isn’t it? That’s what Ipayyou for, isn’t it?” There was no humour in her thin smile.
Mark gave up. No use arguing with the boss when she’d plainly had it in for him since the minute he’d walked through the door that morning.
“Yes, Marie,” he intoned, the words disturbing the air in front of his face, nothing more. With a final glare she withdrew, and Mark poured away the tea with a heavy sigh.
Back to work.
Five o’clock and Mark was itching to be out of there. The salon was spotless. The centre unit was spic and span, not a singlestray hair remained on the laminated floor and to the rear of the salon, the second waiting area with its comfy purple leather couch and silk flower arrangements was immaculate.
Let her find fault withthat.
All the girls were waiting by the door as Marie gave the salon a final check. April and Wendy were already on their phones, no doubt texting their friends as to where they would all meet up. Mark had gone along with them on a couple of occasions, but he hadn’t done that for a while now. He’d grown bored of being required to give his opinion of every guy who walked through the main door of the pub. Apparently, being gay meant he fancied every bloke on the Isle of Wight.
Yeah, right.
Carol, the receptionist, was talking animatedly with Deb and Janine about a party that she was giving the following month, to which they had all been invited. Sonia was on her phone, talking to her husband Stewart. She caught sight of Mark and smiled warmly.
“All done, ladies—and Mark,” Marie announced at last, reserving another thin-lipped smile for Mark. “Have a good weekend and see you next week.” The staff filed out of the salon, Mark trailing behind. He avoided making eye contact with Marie as he slipped past her, relieved to see Sonia waiting for him. The rest of the girls had already dispersed, most of them in the direction of Wetherspoons for a drink or three.
Sonia’s eyes sparkled with good humour. “Want to walk with me down Union Street? I’m parked at the bottom today. There were no spaces near here this morning.”
Mark nodded. They were going the same way anyway. They turned the corner and began the trek down the steep hill which was the main street in Ryde. Sonia linked her arm through his and they walked in silence for a minute or two.
“What was going on earlier, sweetie?”
Mark’s brow furrowed. “When?” The whole day had been shit from beginning to end.
“When I found you in the kitchen. You were looking stressed out.”
Mark thought back. His brow cleared. “Oh, it was just the usual Marie shit.”
“Sure that was all?” He could hear the concern.Bless her.
Mark squeezed her hand. “Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, day over, right?”
She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Hoo, yeah. Stewart says he has a delicious dinner waiting for me.”
Mark grinned. “Lucky girl.” She beamed. She and Stewart seemed to be a match made in heaven. The thought sobered him momentarily. The Isle of Wight wasn’t exactly brimming over with gay men. In fact, the pickings were slim.
