Page 28 of Breaking All The Rules
“It’s fine,” she said with a smile, ushering Bea over to a black swivel chair in front of a mirror. “Business isn’t exactly brisk around here, so we always value walk-ins.”
We? Just then, from a doorway behind that was covered with a heavy bead curtain, another woman appeared. They were strikingly similar—twins, Bea realized. Maybe in their late twenties? They both had long, lean builds with cute chipmunk cheeks. The only hope of telling them instantly apart was their hair. The woman who’d just appeared had a more conservative cut, all one length that brushed her shoulders, the ends kicking up in a cute little flick.
They both had truly magnificent eyebrows, thick and perfectly arched.
“Hey, welcome to the disco,” the other women greeted, also in a Brooklyn accent.
“Hi.”
“I’m Marley,” the twin who had seated her said. “That’s my sister”—she jerked her head to the side—“Molly.”
Bea smiled at them both in the mirror. “I’m Bea.”
“You’re the woman in the Witness Protection Program, right? With the cats?”
Bea laughed. Okay, the thing with the cats had to stop. “No. I can assure you stories of my past are greatly exaggerated. I’m a recovering advertising executive running away from the circus that is LA, not a criminal past, I promise. And there are no cats.”
“As recent New York escapees, we can relate,” Marley said warmly.
Bea glanced above her. “It feels very New York in here.”
“Oh yes.” Marley smiled. “The glitter ball caused quite the sensation. Now…” Turning her attention to Bea’s hair, she ploughed her fingers through it, inspecting it all over like she was searching for lice. Glancing into the mirror, she asked, “What were you thinking?”
Bea laughed at the inquiry. Was Marley asking Bea her thoughts on the cut and style she was wanting, or was she asking Bea why she’d let her hair get into such a state in the first place? She assumed it was the former, because Marley’s tone was neither incredulous nor unkind.
“Surprise me.”
Bea gulped as the words slipped from her lips and wondered if she’d been abducted by aliens and had her brain snatched. She’d never just handed herself over to a stylist before—she’d always been very particular about her hair. The fineness of it had been the bane of her grandmother’s existence, but with her guidance, Bea had figured out a style that worked. Long enough to pull back into a loose chignon at her nape for volume and counteract any flyaways. No bangs to betray just how impossibly fine and straight it was. And a light chestnut tint to give the mousy color some depth.
But when she’d quit, she’d been due for another cut and color, and since then, she’d been a hermit letting everything grow wild, and it was longer and scrappier and duller than it had ever been. She winced at herself in the mirror.
God…she was a hobbit.
Definitely time for a change. And if this was her time for being reckless, that had to include her hair as well—her grandmother be damned. “I desperately need a style and some color. My hair is ridiculously fine with a mind of its own, but I’m ready for a change.” Her gaze flicked to the blue in Marley’s hair. “Nothing too…outrageous.” Reckless could come in baby steps, right? “Just different.”
Both the women nodded, and then a conversation followed between them as they both sifted through her hair, flipping it back and forth, lifting it up and letting it fall, peering at the roots, prodding at the scalp. After about a minute without what Bea could see as any kind of plan or consensus forthcoming between them, Marley nodded a few times, then glanced at Bea’s reflection in the mirror. “Do you trust me?”
Lordy. Bea had no earthly reason to trust someone she’d just met, especially when it came to her hair, but hell, her father, who had never understood his mother’s constant wrangle with Bea’s hair, always said the only difference between a good haircut and a bad haircut was a couple of weeks. And she had enough hoodies to hide a disaster for a while. She wasn’t sure if it was the solidarity of three Credence outsiders united in their makeover quest or just that buzz of excitement glowing in the other woman’s eyes, but Bea actually did trust Marley, blue hair and all.
“Yes.”
Charlie don’t-be-too-distracting Hammersmith could go take a hike.
Marley pumped her fist and grinned. “Okay.” She whipped out a cape, and Bea was wrapped up in the blink of an eye.
“Would you like Molly to do your nails? A pedicure, maybe?” She gestured to the other chair in the salon, complete with a foot bath. “She can do that while the color takes? We also,” she said as both twins looked rather pointedly at Bea’s shaggy, unruly eyebrows, “offer a full waxing service.”
Molly nodded. “Eyebrows, underarms, legs, bikini line.” She lowered her voice a little. “Brazilians.”
Bea blinked. If a glitter ball had caused a sensation, she could only imagine what kind of stir the waxing of hoo-has had created.
“Thanks. Eyebrows and a mani-pedi will be fine.”
No way in hell she was letting Molly anywhere near her bikini area. If the twins thought her eyebrows were concerning, Bea did not want to expose them to how wild things had gotten down below.
She doubted there was enough wax in all Eastern Colorado for that job.
…
