Cut & Blow: Book 1 Read online

  Before she gets in we all frantically clean and tidy the whole place, making the dated decor spotless. The once red vinyl chairs are faded to a pink hue, and the black and white checkered floor tiles are chipped and cracked, while the 80s hair posters hanging on the walls are a reminder of crimping and hairspray that no one needs. Shoulder pads and blue eye-shadow look at us from the walls all day, every day.

  The countertops are faded fake marble, very happening back in 1981, but now it’s just sad. I have this secret dream of going all extreme makeover on the place one night while Gina and our manager Sasha sleep, redecorating and updating everything. But it might lose its god-awful charm if we did that.

  Making sure that the floor is hairless and the mirrors have not a single watermark on them, my station is ready for the weekly once over. I go help tidy the nuclear bomb blast in the kitchen, where Chelsey still looks hungover, and I suspect her and her sister didn’t go home after my place.

  “What did you do last night?” I ask her, fishing for gossip.

  Romi turns from where he is closing up trash bags and says, “Not what, who,” before bursting out laughing on the way out back.

  “Really? Now I know there is a story here. Spill the beans, tell me everything!” Her cheeks burn bright red and she shakes her head. “Oh no, that’s not how this best friend thing works. Remember, you made me your BFF so now you have to tell.”

  Cleo comes in carrying empty water glasses and Chesley’s focus darts to her. “After work or at lunch, not now.” She shakes her head and gives me the shut up look, Cleo being a nosy bitch.

  “Okay, but I’m not letting it go. Romi made it sound all juicy.”

  “What’s juicy?” Cleo asks, and I just give her a dirty look.

  Of all the people I work with she’s the one I like the least. There is just something about her; she doesn’t fit in with us. I have no good reason not to like her, I just don’t.

  “Nothing,” Chelsey says, giving me the eyeball.

  We finish packing away in the kitchen and shut the door on the staffroom, before we help Alistair pack merchandise shelves in the front. The glass and chrome shelves are no longer even, as some have broken and not been replaced over the years, and I’m sure some of the products balanced on the very top ones are relics from the early 80s.

  “She’s here,” Star calls from the window where she can see Gina’s car parking. I still can’t get used to her southern accent, she sounds like a foreigner, and I have to ask her to repeat herself all the time just to grasp what she says.

  Tossing the boxes behind the reception counter we all scurry to our stations and wait for her to barge through the front door, and let it slam closed behind her.

  “Morning, Gina.” Alistair greets her with fake happiness that is way too obvious, and I can just imagine the sneer on her face.

  “Hello.” She gives him the one word answer before her heels click along the floor towards the rest of us.

  We wait for the explosion that will come. It always does.

  “Romi, that shirt is offensive to my eyeballs. Change it.” I watch him hold his tongue as she looks over him from head to toe. He nods his head yes and disappears to the back. Gina works her way down the line finding something to fight about with each stylist. “Ailee, in my office.”

  Shit. Not what I was expecting. Fuck me, what have I done. I look in the mirror, but I can’t see anything wrong with my appearance. ‘In my office’ is never a good thing.

  “Come, come, I don’t want to be here all day.”

  She’s halfway there before I start to follow. I close the glass door behind me and the old-motel Venetian blinds scrape on it, making my skin crawl.

  “Sit down, Ailee.” Her crooked finger points at the chair, and the chipped, red nail polish, bothers me when I notice it. I sit on the rickety old chair facing her, the desk at eye level now as it’s come to the floor. “You know, Ailee, I keep you here even when it causes chaos for me, the least you could do is stay out of trouble.”

  Trouble? I’m confused. “I’m not sure I understand, Gina.”

  “Unlike your co-workers, Ailee, I know who you are, and I have to answer to your father at church every Sunday when he asks how you are. And when people tell him you are out with the other stylists, acting like a hooker, he gets upset with me. You understand now?”

  Oh, I understand all too well. “Gina, if my dad is concerned about me, he can call me. As for what I do when I’m out with my friends, that’s my business, not his.” I’m furious at his imposition into my life; I went out of my way to be independent from them.

  “Your husband doesn’t think so, Ailee.” The venom in that statement tells me all I need to know, someone has been telling tales on me. “Be a little more discreet, why don’t you. I can’t think of a reason to fire you, but they are pushing me to find one. Get your life together, think about how it looks to others. That is his cousin’s club, you foolish child.”

  Tears sting at my eyeballs and I feel like a child in the principal’s office being scolded. “What am I supposed to do, Gina? I just want to live my life. I don’t want to be the child, or the wife of a mobster. I didn’t ask for those things, I just want to cut hair and have fun. I deserve to be happy too, and fuck my husband, I haven’t seen him since we said ‘I do’.”

  The old woman hands me a tissue from her handbag. “You don’t think I understand, but we come from the same worn out dirty cloth, child. I escaped for awhile, but it’s in our blood, it always finds us. Just try harder to keep your secrets better. I told your dad I’d talk to you – so consider yourself spoken to. Now dry those tears and go work.”

  I wipe my eyes on the crumpled tissue and look at the old woman in front of me, and wonder who the hell she really is. She never said a word before today.

  “I married a mobster too, Ailee. Thank God someone offed mine early in life and I had a chance to make my own way. You can talk to me anytime, but you need to keep your nose clean. Rainieri has been very fair with you, don’t piss him off.”

  “Thanks Gina, I think…” I stand up to leave this awkward little talk, while I still have my dignity. “I’m sorry my father bothered you with this.”

  “It’s okay, Ailee. Go work. If they ask, someone complained and I laid into you.” She winks at me.

  Closing her door behind me, I try to look like I’ve not been crying, but I know my face will be red and blotchy, and my eyes feel puffy so they will look it too.

  I have two hours before my first client, so I bypass everyone and go out the back door to smoke. Chelsey has a client, but I catch her gaze in the mirror on my post and she’s asking me questions with her eyes.

  Leaning against the exposed brick wall I light a cigarette and close my eyes. I always knew it would catch up to me, find me and ruin my life. But, I’m not ready, not yet. The door squeaks open, Romi and Luna come out looking concerned.

  “Are you okay? What did the Ice Queen want?” he asks, standing beside me lighting his own smoke.

  “I’m fine. Some customer complained that I messed up their hair. Gina wasn’t impressed, she let me have it.” I sniff back more tears. I’m lying to them, but I still feel sick over what she said. “I just need a minute, I’ll come back in a bit.” I give him a smile.

  Luna goes back inside to tell everyone what’s wrong, I have no doubt, and Romi stays with me to finish his cigarette. The offending shirt has been changed for a plain blue one, the collar is unbuttoned and his chest hairs stick out the top. He’s a good looking guy, but he likes guys; he’s engaged to his sweetheart and they are the cutest couple.

  “I’ll see you inside,” he says, leaving me there to just breathe for a while.

  I flick the butt of my smoke into the giant dumpster opposite and force myself to go back indoors. I am a big girl, I can do this. I won’t give up just because my dad says so. I make up a story about a disgruntled client for the rest of my co-workers and the day goes on.

  In fact the whole week is uneve
ntful and boring after that, and by the time Saturday rolls around I am more than ready for it to just be over.

  Everyone seems slightly disgruntled and rather off this morning, Gina has been in three times in one week, which turns Sasha into a raging bitch, and makes all our lives miserable.

  No one has even mentioned going out tonight, and for the first time in months I don’t even feel like going with them if they do. I sit on my chair and swing around and around, waiting on my first client; I am actually early today so I’m not rushed. Spinning in circles scrolling through my Instagram feed, I’m not paying much attention to anything around me.

  The door chimes open and I know it will be my first client for the day. I stand up and try to look as if I wasn’t lazing about. Alistair is rattling off his perky greeting when Trent, my teacher client from last Saturday, rounds the corner with a big smile on his face and a bunch of flowers in his hand.

  I’m pretty sure my eyes rolled involuntarily at just how cheesy it is, but I still feel myself blushing. The redness climbs my neck and flushes my cheeks. I feel hot and my palms sweat, which isn’t great for holding scissors to someone’s, head or a straight razor to their beards. I wipe them on my skinny jeans as he comes towards me. I can see Romi making faces at me in the mirrors; that make it difficult to hide anything in here.

  “Hello Ailee.”

  Trent greets me in that deep voice and hands me the flowers.

  I’ve not had a client bring me flowers before and I’m not too sure what to do or say. “Hello, Mr Walsh. Thank you, and you can sit.” I pull my chair out for him before I open my water bottle and shove the flowers inside. I am pretty certain we don’t have a vase anywhere in here, so that’s the best I can do. “So what can I do for you today? Cut and Blow? Perm? Shave it off?” I pull his man-bun loose and let his thick hair down. “You won’t have any hair left if you come in here every week to get it cut.”

  “Dinner, I don’t want my hair done. I wanted to ask you out for dinner, so I made an appointment since the guy up front wouldn’t give me your number.”

  High-five Alistair, for once he was actually useful. I see him looking at me from his counter with a smug look on his face. You know, because giving the strange man my number isn’t okay, but letting him in here is.

  “I’m not so sure dinner is a good idea,” I say, running my fingers through his silky, still slightly wet hair.

  Everyone is looking at me, all the eyeballs in the mirrors waiting to see what happens. Nosy bastards.

  “Why on Earth not? I even made an appointment to ask you.”

  I try to think of reasons, like you know you might be an axe murderer, there are twelve years olds swooning over you, are you a pedophile? But none of those come out my mouth – thank god my filter seems to be working today. “You’re a client.”

  He stands up out of the chair, smiles at me with a naughty twinkle in his eye, and says, “Well then, you’re fired.” And he sits in Chelsey’s empty chair beside me.

  Shit.

  Chels is trying to hold in a laugh, I can see it in her face, and I want to stab him with my scissors.

  “So, Ailee, will you go out for dinner with me after you finish work tonight?” he asks, looking at me in the mirror, not turning around.

  “Fine. I finish at seven. But, I’m driving my own car, so if you are an axe murderer I have a getaway plan.” Chelsey lets out a snort laugh and has to turn around so he can’t see her face in the mirror. “Better still, I’m picking the restaurant.”

  My friend can’t contain her giggles any longer as I give him a death glare. I don’t care how shy you are, or how deep your voice is, I don’t trust men.

  “That’s fine. I will meet you here and you can lead the way.”

  His sexy smile is melting my resolve and I try not to break the Mexican stare-off in the mirror, folding my arms across my chest for emphasis.

  “So do you actually want your hair done, or not?” Chelsey asks him through her laughter.

  “Well, now you’ve messed it up you may as well do something with it while I talk to Ailee. She’s going to go make us a coffee, you can give it another trim, I guess.”

  The cocky bastard. I make shit coffee, so he’s in for a treat.

  My friend just carries on like none of this is happening and sprays his hair wet with her squirty bottle. I’m not sure how to react to him; all I know is every time he opens his mouth, and that voice comes out, my knickers melt right off and I’d probably do anything he asked me. Like now; I am going to the back to make him coffee, I must be ill, or stark raving mad.

  A little voice whispers to me that I shouldn’t do this. It’s wrong. I’m married. But no one knows that, he certainly doesn’t need to.

  I stir the weak-looking watery coffee in the Styrofoam cup – Gina doesn’t give two shits about the environment so yes we have Styrofoam cups – and carry it back to the front. By the sudden hushes and silence I know they were talking about me, the traitors.

  “There’s your coffee.” I put it down in front of him and sit at the chair he was in at my station earlier, and resume swinging while inspecting the man beside me in the mirror.

  He has stubble on his face today, not clean and smooth like last time, and I think I prefer it. He is watching me as I stare into those hazel eyes full of mischief. I’m not starting the conversation, so I bite my tongue and continue my appraisal of the teacher. He is wearing a white button up shirt, with khaki trousers that fit tight in all the right places.

  “So, Ailee, when you’re done undressing me in your head,” It’s Romi’s turn to snort behind us, “Where would you like to go for dinner?”

  That voice. Fuck me. My brain won’t work when he talks; this is a terrible idea.

  “What do you like to eat, Trent?” I ask, in case he’s a …

  “I’m vegan.”

  Oh, and there it is. Of course you are, Mr Perfect Pants, you look like the hippie type.

  “Well then, there is a vegan place down by the shore, we can go there.”

  Cleo, our resident vegan and all round bitch, took us there for her birthday. I see Romi shaking his head, obviously having the exact same memory as me.

  Chels combs his hair over his face, stopping this awkwardness by hiding his visage from me. She gives me a look, a friend look that says ‘just do it bitch, you need to get laid’. And I so do.

  “So what do you teach, Mr Walsh, that makes the little girls blush?” I ask while his face is covered with hair.

  “Middle school math.”

  Oh, he’s a nerdy hippie with a panty melting voice. I wish my math teacher had looked like him, I might have learned more.

  “And what do you do for fun, besides stalk your hairstylist?”

  “Ex-hairstylist. I fired you,” he corrects me. “I like to cycle, I run, read books, and enjoy a good night out with my friends.”

  “Do they make vegan booze?” Chelsey butts in, making me laugh again.

  “If there are animal products in your booze you might want to call the health department to check out your local bar.” He’s quick with a comeback.

  “So you have friends then?” I just feel like being difficult, he can’t waltz in here and have it all easy.

  He sips the brown water that passes as coffee from the white cup and locks his eyes on mine in the giant unflattering mirror now that his hair is out of the way again. “I have friends, Ailee. I’m a nice guy; I am not an axe murderer. In fact I’m a pretty good guy.” My BFF finishes his hair and brushes his neck clean of any stray hair. “Thank you, Chels.”

  He stands and looks down at me, and my heart skips a beat at that smile. He’s playing games with me, I know it.

  “See you later, Ailee. I look forward to dinner.” He swings the chair I sit on to face him, bends down with his hands on the armrests and whispers in my ear, his breath dancing on my skin, making me squirm in my seat. “Leave the attitude here. I like you and I want to get to know you.”

  He stands uprig
ht again. His crotch is in my face and I feel the fire of my blushing cheeks as he leaves the shop, pulling his hair back up into an elastic hair-tie.

  “Ugh, what a waste. I did it all nice and he just ties it up!” Chels moans, while I try to calm my raging hormones. “He’s so hot, and so into you.” She flops into her chair and swings to face me. “Even with your attitude, so he must be into crazy chicks.”

  Everyone laughs as Alistair comes through to us from his perch in the front. The pink of his shirt matches the two neon words left working on the ‘Cut & Blow’ sign outside. The rest is old, faded, and illegible to anyone walking past. The scissors on the windows are the only real signage that tells what we do.

  “So, a stalker Ailee, I am so proud of you.”

  I flip him off and leave to go smoke before my next client comes in, and also to try get my mind out of the gutter – the sexy gutter with teacher Trent in it.

  Four

  Shear

  RAINIERI

  They all dress and leave the salon as always, so I go ahead to the club, as always. Only Ailee doesn’t show up at the club, and I wait and watch for her friends and co-workers for a few hours before I leave.

  She was dressed to go out; maybe she felt sick and went home. Taking my bike I zip through the traffic to her place, but her car isn’t there either. So I wait again. She has to come home eventually.

  My need to know where she is eats at me, and I message my cousin to see if anyone managed to overhear from her friends where she went.

  Dinner with some guy

  WTF. What guy?

  Teacher, went to a vegan place.

  Teacher? Was it a date? She’s fucking married!

  Don’t kill the messenger, you asked - I found out.

  Thanks

  You owe me.

  Not nearly as much as he already owes me.

  My leg starts to twitch with the jealousy brewing inside me, and the little gold key that opens her front door taunts me from where my bike key is in the ignition. It dangles there, shining with the reminder that someone is out there with her, with my wife.