Page 38 of Maverick
The salon was cute, much nicer than what I’d expected for a small town. Maybe Iwasa snob. I reached up and twisted one of my diamond stud earrings. Would it be too obvious if I shoved them into my purse? My Dooney and Bourke purse? I sighed. When had I become so into labels? I thought back to college, when I’d shown up to the accounting department mixer in off-brand clothes I’d picked up at a discount store. No one said anything, but I felt it. I felt the difference as I stood next to the girls in designer clothes. They had a different vibe, an unspoken confidence that I lacked. The alumni who were there to inspireus to greatness didn’t even notice me. As if they knew I wasn’t cut out for their world if I wasn’t born into it.
I picked up extra shifts at my restaurant job. I frequented the thrift stores in the wealthier areas of town and built up my wardrobe. Surfing through online buy/sell/trade groups became my hobby. Nowadays, I could shop at the actual stores, which made things a lot easier and more efficient. But I still enjoyed the occasional thrift hunt. Nothing was as satisfying as finding an $800 pair of jeans for $50.
Mav’s grin flashed in my mind. Okay, some things were more satisfying than that. But I wasn’t thinking about him right now. I hated how we went from that perfect moment in the sky to a dumpster fire when I asked about his club.
A woman with dark hair and pink tips walked to the front desk. “Hey there. How can I help you today?”
I shrugged. “Honestly, I need to disappear for a few hours. I was hoping you could fit me in for something. I don’t care what.”
“Oh, how fun! Your hair is gorgeous.”
I ran my fingers over my braid. I did have amazing hair; she wasn’t just feeding me a line. But I didn’t know her well enough to let her touch it. “Not the hair.”
The lady nodded. “I can do a facial, manicure, or—” She looked up and her eyes brightened. “Have you ever had your lashes tinted and curled?”
“My eyelashes?”
The woman nodded, her body vibrating with excitement. “Yeah! I see you’re wearing mascara. How would it feel not to worry about that for the next four to six weeks?”
I shrugged. “Uh, great?” Putting on mascara took me all of one minute, but I guess that added up after a while.
“Perfect! This is a brand-new service, and you’ll be the first to try it out!”
I took a step back and waved my hands. My nails were chipping on the sides. “Maybe I should go with a manicure.”
“We can do that, too.” Her eyes clocked the logo on my purse. Fuck, maybe I did need to tone it down a bit. I might as well be walking around with a money clip.
“I’m Ivy, by the way.” She held out her hand, and I shook it. “And don’t worry, I own the place, so I know what I’m doing.”
Relief filled my chest as Ivy walked me to a station in the back. “So, you’ve done this before? Just not at this salon?” As owner, she must have years and years of experience. Although she looked to be in her early twenties. Maybe I should add that facial. It must be magical.
Ivy laughed. “This is the only salon I’ve worked at, outside of school. But don’t worry, I’ve practiced on Foxy multiple times.”
“Foxy?”
“Yeah.” She pointed toward an arcade machine where a mannequin head sat on a shelf. It was surprisingly lifelike with blond curly hair and dark eyelashes that I could see from across the room. “And she didn’t complain one bit.”
***
One hour and a set of Betty Boop eyelashes later, I was in another chair for a mani-pedi. The day had been reserved for a bridal party, but after the bride walked in on the cheating groom, the wedding and the appointment were cancelled. Ivy, being a total girl’s girl, refunded the deposit even though it was too late to book new clients. Which was how I’d ended up having Ivy all to myself.
“She should go on the honeymoon alone and find a vacation hookup.”
Ivy murmured her agreement as I blinked. And blinked some more. Ivy assured me I’d get used to my perma-curled lashes in afew days. It wasn’t that I didn’t like them—and given the amount of crying I’d done in the last few days, I’d appreciate not wearing mascara—they just felt weird.
“I’ll make a note to use less of a curl next time.”
I snorted. “I’m not sure there will be a next time.”
Ivy’s face fell and she pulled back from my nails. “Are you serious? Oh my god, I am so sorry. I can do a complimentary set of fake lashes, if you want to try that.” And nowshelooked about to cry.
“No, it’s not that. I’m only in town temporarily to help my dad out. I’m four weeks into a six week leave of absence from my job. By the time these need to be redone, I’ll be back home in Maryland.”
“Oh.” Ivy sighed, visibly relieved. “That makes me feel much better. I mean, I suppose I’d feel even better if you liked me so much you were willing to travel multiple hours to get to me, but it’s cool. I get it.”
I smiled. “Well, I plan to come back to visit my dad more often. I can try to coordinate a trip to the salon.”
Ivy’s shoulders rocked as she did a little dance in her chair. “That would be amazing! I’ve only been open a few months. There’s been a steady stream of customers, but it’s nerve-wracking to own your own business, ya know?”
