Page 45 of Words We Didn't Say

An evil grin spread across Andie’s face. “Anything we want, huh?”

My stomach plummeted to the hardwood floor.

Maybe this was a bad idea…

To my surprise, Andie agreed I could stick around for the day, but she didn’t waste a second putting me to work. She barked orders like a drill sergeant.

Hang this. Stack these. Fluff that.

She explained preparation was the key to running a successful salon, and it started well before the doors officially opened. There were luxury robes to hang and freshly laundered towels to unpack. Inventory in the trolleys and shelves needed restocking, and the day’s catering had to be carefully stored for serving later. Even the cushions and magazines in the waiting area required extra special attention.

More staff trickled in as the morning went on. My head spun, barely able to keep track of all the new names and faces. Two girls hovered around the basins and giggled whenever I glanced in their direction. A barista in his late teens hung out in the kitchen, helping with the food and preparing the salon’s famous artisan coffees.

Maddie wandered in last. She hoped to become an apprentice and earn her place by fussing over the clients, tidying up, and keeping the trolleys cleaned and restocked. Usually.She spent her morning perched on the stool at the front reception,sometimes answering the phone but mostly tapping away at some app as she sipped a fancy coffee.

Andie reassigned all of Maddie’s jobs to me.

I also learned more about what everyone did. Eden specialised in colouring and was renowned for fixing the impossible. Andie was all about edgy cuts, and Yvette had a knack for something called blowouts.

She called me over to her station every time she spun around her client for their final reveal. Everyone crowded around to‘ooh’and‘aah’at the woman beaming at her transformation in the mirror, the big, bouncy waves rivalling the women in shampoo commercials on TV.

Yvette leant her hip against her station, watching me with an amused smirk as I ran through the list to restock her trolley.

“Will you be gracing Worley’s corporate box with your presence tonight?” she asked.

“Maybe.” Suspicious, my eyes narrowed. “Are you fishing for an invite?”

“I’d rather stick a hot curling iron in my eye than spend my night with a bunch of lawyers pretending to understand sport.” A coy smile danced on her lips as she ran her finger along the edge of her trolley. “I kinda thought you might be the same?”

I lifted a shoulder. “I watch the games with my dad sometimes, but yeah, I usually avoid all the bullshit work functions.”

“Why are you going then?”

“My boss told me I had to go.”

“Chris Stone, right?” She snorted a laugh. “What a prickly pear he is.”

“You know him?”

“Sweetie, he makes himself known to a lot of women despite the clueless fiancée he’s trapped.”

The bite in Yvette’s voice zipped up my spine. Made me stand up taller. “Lola’s…nice.”

“She’s positively delightful. There are plenty of rumours, though, that Chris isn’t.” Yvette shook out her curls, her sneer disappearing into a smile. “Are you taking a date to the stadium?”

“What the hell? Ofcoursenot. Eden’s the only one for me.”

“Ain’t you sweet.”

I shrugged. “Just being honest.”

“I approve. Be gone with you, little peon.” She waved me away from her trolley. “I’ll finish taking care of this before my next appointment arrives.”

“O-Okay.”

I glanced at Yvette over my shoulder as I grabbed the robe and towels. I didn’t know her well, but that conversation was weird, even from what little I’d seen.

The stench of bleach and wet towels burned my nose when I opened the door to the laundry room. After I stuffed a pile of robes in a dry-cleaning bag and tossed some towels in the wash, I slumped against the scratchy, ancient bricks and groaned.

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