Page 18 of Baring it All (Men in Charge)

21

STORMY

Today is the day for two reasons. First, Griff comes home. Thankfully, we spoke for a few minutes last night. He was vague but assured me he was okay and he’d be heading home first thing this morning as soon as they were released. The other reason is I’m back to work, and my schedule is full for my first day back at the salon.

“Hey, honey, you ready to open up?” Kitty, the store owner, asks after we’ve had a cup of coffee and set up our stations for the day. Today is absolutely a two-cup minimum, if not a third by the way of an iced coffee from the shop next door. I woke up extra early, made sure Finn was taken care of, then took a longer walk than our usual. He must have realized it, too, because I got an extra dose of puppy dog eyes when I grabbed my bag while saying goodbye to the big couch potato.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” My stomach is a riot house. I guess it’s a good thing one of my first clients is a regular. Marie’s hair is a root touch-up and a trim, every six weeks like clockwork, unless she changes things up. So far, it’s been the same honey-blonde hair for the past few years.

“It’s been two weeks. Surely, the dust has settled and someone else will become more interesting,” Kitty says, walking to the door and unlocking it. I move in the same direction, pulling on the string that signals we’re open in a bright pink neon sign that reads Kitty’s Style and Wash. Only time will tell on what I’ll be dealing with. The only thing certain is that time marches on. Eventually. I was really hoping to see Griff this morning before heading to work, to soak in some of his confidence, even if it were only a hug. That didn’t happen, and I’m not holding it against him. I probably shouldn’t even use him as a crutch, but tell that to my nerves.

“I guess we’ll see. At least Marie is my first client.” Maybe she won’t bring anything up, and we can have a normal day.

“That’s good. It’s been boring without you here. Promise me you won’t take another two weeks off.” I snort. I’m not fun by any means. Kitty probably missed me opening or closing when she needed some time off and knows I’m the most reliable.

“Oh, I can assure you there will be no time off in my future. I’m actually thinking about opening my books a weekend a month,” I admit, not going into full detail on the reason why.

“You’ve got a key, honey. Do what you need to, but don’t overwork yourself,” she says before dashing to the back of the salon, probably to bring out a load of towels that need to be washed.

The door chimes, alerting me to a guest. Marie walks in saying, “Hey, Stormy.”

“Hey, girlfriend, you’re looking fabulous as ever.” I’m back at my station, going through my products and making sure none of the other stylists have snatched them up. There’s a rule that stylist can borrow things from one another, but you’re supposed to return it. Ask me if that’ll actually happens.

“Oh no, ma’am, honey, that would be you. You’re absolutely glowing.” A genuine smile plasters on my face. After sleeping all day, I needed a shower. It was time for me to get back into my Sunday routine. Self-care, if you would—exfoliate, shave everything, deep-conditioning mask, and then washing my hair was in the works. Once that was done, I made a quick bite to eat. A girl-style dinner, unhealthy to its core. A bag of chips and salsa was exactly what I wanted, and I was eating my feelings. By the time I was done eating, it was time to blow dry my hair, my phone on the bathroom counter, face up just in case, and Finn on the floor beside me. It’s a good thing I brought my phone with me. I was halfway done blowing my hair out when Griff called. I’d never been more ecstatic to hear his voice even with not-so-fun news.

“Thank you, I’m going to take the compliment even though I’m sure it was my time on the beach that helped.” I pat the seat for Marie to come over so we can get started.

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” Marie winks, and I blush. Griff and I aren’t hiding, but we’re not telling everyone our business. They can figure things out for themselves or ask. My name has been through the mud one too many times for me to allow others to demean it some more.

“Are we doing the usual?” I ask, placing a cape around her, snapping it at the back of her neck. I run my fingers through her hair, look at the new growth coming in, and mentally remember the formula I use with her.

“We are. I think the next appointment, I want to switch it up. There’s no use keeping up with the gray hair when it’s only getting worse, and I’m only getting older.” My hands meet one another, clapping excitedly. Marie has been talking about this for a while, going back and forth. The things I want to do to her hair, and this way, we can make it more natural instead of just growing it out.

“I can hear your excitement in the back.” Kitty comes out in an apron.

“Marie is going gray. Have you seen a head of hair prettier?” I reply.

“And with your magical hands, it’s going to be magnificent,” Kitty responds as the door chimes again. I don’t bother looking, figuring it’s another client for one of the other stylists who haven’t come in yet.

“Okay, so if you’re positive, I’m going to do a demi-permanent color, then we can strip the rest of the color next appointment.” Marie nods vigorously, so I continue, “You’re looking at a few hours. Bring a book, wear comfortable clothes, and we’ll order food.” She’ll be my only client that day. It’ll be hours of standing, watching, and waiting.

“I can’t wait. I should have planned ahead. We could have done it today.” She shrugs her shoulders, and Marie probably could have called me if I hadn’t turned my work calls onto silent mode. Shit on a brick.

“That’s okay. This appointment won’t take long. Let me go get your color mixed up, and we’ll get started.” I squeeze her shoulders once, turn around, and am stopped in my tracks. The door chiming brought in an unwelcome guest: Zach’s mother, Laura. I push my shoulders back and lift my chin, pretending I’ve got all the confidence in the world when I walk by the salon chair she’s sitting in. Her stylist, Cassidy, isn’t here yet, but leave it to Laura to talk on the phone as loudly as possible. “That’s what I said. She’s living with her best friend’s uncle. Can you imagine leaving my son on his wedding day with a man who’s closer to her mom’s age than hers?”She’s not worth it, she’s not worth it, she’s absolutely not worth it.The mantra replays in my head the entire walk toward the back room, while I’m flinging open cabinets, slamming them shut, mixing product, and everyone leaves me alone while I get my emotions in check. Jesus, I could really use Griff right about now, or a bottle of tequila. In either order. Or for someone to put Laura in her place. I take a deep breath, abandoning mixing the color to try and get my shit in check. The last thing I want is for Laura to see she’s affecting me. That bitch and her son are my past, and there’s no use looking in the rearview mirror.

22

GRIFFIN

“Hey, Jack.” I hit the button to answer the call in my truck. They released us at midnight last night after going through each person with a fine-tooth comb. My questioning was done at a hospital. It wasn’t the first time I’d dislocated my shoulder, and the doctor was unimpressed it happened again. He warned me that a surgery could be in my future. I knew it. With my field, it comes with the territory. The doctor told me all of this while putting my shoulder back in place, the pain of it hanging loosely only for him to put me in even more pain when it’s finally where it belongs.

“Hey, you home yet?” he asks.

“About five minutes out. Going to drop my shit off, let Finn out, and pick up some food to bring to Stormy at the salon.” I heard the longing in her voice on the three-minute phone call. It ate at my gut. It’s why I drove a couple of hours, hit a rest area, ate ibuprofen like it was candy, took a nap, and woke up to finish the drive home. Yesterday was a clusterfuck of all clusterfucks, one I won’t be repeating. The first call I made was to my boss, the one who didn’t show up yesterday and was supposed to, especially after the incident. Marty tried to give me the run-around, like he was blowing smoke up my skirt. It came down to me say get fucked. He shut up. I told him I was done, this time for good, and hung up.

“Head to the salon first. Laura is there and hot to trot,” Jack replies.

“Don’t you worry about Stormy. I’m on my way to the salon now. Laura Busby doesn’t know who she’s messed with. I’m going to make her wish she hadn’t stepped foot in Kitty’s salon. That bitch has never gone there before, yet today she’s there. I think the fuck not,” Barbie is going on in the background. I’m already steering my truck in the opposite direction, taking a side street until my tires hit the red brick in the town square.

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