Page 3 of Fires of the Forsaken
“Yeah?”
“That is a kick-ass dress.” She flashed me a thumbs-up.
I grinned and smoothed a hand over the colorful patched pattern on my skirt. “Bonus points if you know what movie it’s from.”
She huffed. “Please. Don’t insult me. It’s Sally’s dress fromNightmare Before Christmas.Aka…”
“The best holiday movie ever,” we said in unison.
I grinned at her. “You’re a good kid. Don’t ever change!”
And then I ducked out into the frigid November air. Which onlyfeltfrigid because temps had been in the 70s yesterday and took a nosedive overnight. Pennsylvania weather was freaking bipolar.
Thank God my dress still looked badass when paired with leggings and boots. Otherwise, my thighs would’ve frozen by the time I got to my car.
I sipped my coffee as I drove away, letting the hot, sugary concoction warm my insides. I wasn’t sure if the single shot of espresso did anything, or if I was getting a sugar rush from all the pumps of caramel. Either way, I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by the time I arrived at work.
Hair Today, Dye Tomorrow.
Awesome name for a hair salon, right? Not gonna lie, the name was the only reason I chose to work here. The place was a forty-minute drive from my apartment, and I’d gotten other offers from hair salons that would’ve been much closer. But who wanted to work at dull oldPure Indulgencewhen you hadHair Today, Dye Tomorrowas an option?
“Elsie!” I called, downing the last of my latte, as I walked into the salon and saw my first customer sitting in the waiting area. “Love that shirt on you!”
Her crisp blue blouse matched her eyes. “Thank you.” A flush spread across her cheeks as she smoothed a hand over the shirt.
Elsie was a sweetheart. And she was old-style Hollywood gorgeous. At sixty-three, she looked way better than I did at thirty. She was trim and fit, her porcelain skin barely touched by age, and her wavy hair still full and healthy. Meanwhile, I was twice her size, had chubby cheeks, and looked like an overtired hobgoblin, even when I wore makeup.
I chucked the empty latte cup into the trash bin behind the register, grinning when my manager, April, shot me a dirty look from where she was shampooing a client’s hair.
“Is that a Halloween costume you’re wearing?” April hissed at me.
“Only if it’s worn on Halloween.” I winked at her as I strolled to my station. In my defense, this dress was too pretty to wear once a year.
April shook her head. “How old are you again?”
“You’re only as old as you feel.” I beamed before swiveling my chair around, motioning for Elsie to have a seat. “What can I do for you today, madam?”
“Well,” Elsie sat slowly, “you remember that man in my aquatic class—I told you about him, didn’t I?”
“Mr. Former Rugby Player? With the chocolate brown eyes…”
“Yes, that’s the one! He—well…”
“He asked you out, didn’t he?” I flashed her a smile.
She blushed again. “Yes, and, well, he isyoungerthan me…”
“Age is just a number.”
“…so I wondered if we could do something…oh, I don’t know.” She touched a hand to her hair. “Maybe a new color? Something different?”
“You got it.” I placed the cape over her shoulders and pulled a hair color chart out of my drawer. “Hmm, so how ‘bout the Medium Champagne?” I held the chart beside her face. “You could also do a Beeline Honey,” I added. “But I’m not sure I’d go much darker than that.”
Beneath the cape, Elsie twisted her hands.
“Do ya want me to pick?” I asked.
With an exhale, she nodded. “Am I being foolish?”
