Page 100 of The Sasquatch and the Hairdresser

Leading the way, I show him to the nail tech station. There’s already an L-shaped table in place, and Akram nods approvingly when he sees it.

“This will be perfect for my mini bar, and I can keep out of your hair.” He winks. “No pun intended.”

I chuckle. “Sounds good. I’ll help you bring stuff in.”

In twenty minutes, we’ve hauled in the full crates of alcohol and a large cooler full of ice, as well as plenty of disposable cups.

“Hold on a sec,” Akram says, raising a clawed finger.

He runs back to the van and gets something out of the back. I stare in amazement when he unrolls a large homemade poster once he’s returned inside.

“Let’s put this in the front window,” he suggests.

Akram’s artistic abilities are seriously impressive. The sign says in big bold letters: “Cocktail or mocktail and a blowout? We’ve got you covered! Pamper yourself in style. Harvest Festival weekend only!”

He’s embellished it with some cartoon-like drawings of fall leaves, pumpkins, a pair of martini glasses, and scissors and a hair dryer. It could have turned out really cheesy, but it looks surprisingly professional yet fun.

We soon discover that it also does a damn good job of luring in our first clients of the day, who appear quite eager for some of the pampering we have to offer. For the next few hours, we both stay plenty busy. While folks wait to get their treatment from me, Akram keeps them well-plied with drinks, light snacks, and conversation. He knows just how to chat up his customers, and I can see why Akram’s Oasis is such a success. Making a professional connection with him has already been more than worthwhile.

As I work, I take my time getting to know the residents of Mystic Hollow who sit in my chair. After I finish up with a client, I take notes in a special notebook so I know how to do my best work for them when I see them again. Today, I’m operating with the mindset that I’m meeting my future regulars.

A little before lunch, the very tall ogre waitress from the diner, Flo, comes in.

“Hello, boys! I’m here for a mocktail and a blowout before my shift at the diner. Do your magic!”

She sits in my biggest swivel chair and I have to pull out my small stepladder so I can reach her head.

“Oh, this is nice, honey,” she coos with pleasure. “It’s been far too long since we’ve had a hairstylist in town. And look at you, catering to all different Otherkind with these great chairs.” She flashes me a toothy grin. “I have a feeling I’ll be coming back here regularly.”

I beam with pleasure. “I’m glad you like the setup I’ve created. How did you hear about the salon?”

There’s a knowing smirk on her face. “Honey, Hal and I have been friends for a decade now. When he dropped by a few days ago to tell me you were opening your salon and encouraged me to come by, there was no way I’d say no. Hal’s helped me a lot over the years. Heck, he’s helped just about everyone in town at one time or another.”

My heart does that pitter-patter thing in my chest that happens whenever I think about my boyfriend, and my voice comes out in a faint whisper. “Hal asked you to come?”

She smiles. “He’s good people is Hal.” She pauses. “Well, he’s a good sasquatch, but you catch my drift.”

I swallow back the lump in my throat. “He really is. I’m not exaggerating when I say he’s the very best man I’ve ever met.”

Flo reaches out a large hand with manicured red nails and pats mine. “Hal’s been alone for far too long. I’m glad he’s found someone who appreciates him properly.”

I feel my cheeks flush, and I smile so hard it hurts. “He’s it for me and I’m it for him. We’re both in this for the long haul.”

Who would have ever thought such a magical thing could happen for me?

Flo chuckles. “I think most of us figured that out before the two of you did. Mystic Hollow is a small town, honey. All of us could see the two of you are meant for each other. I’m thrilled you didn’t take too long to figure it out.”

So am I.

“Me and Hal are meant to be, you got that right.” I clear my throat. “Now, why don’t we get you washed so I can give you the best blowout you’ve ever had.”

Twenty minutes later, Flo is preening in front of the mirror and clearly pleased with my work. The bell above the front door of the salon jingles, and I turn to see a gargoyle delivery guy carry in an enormous vase full of flowers and an accompanying balloon bouquet nearly as tall as Flo.

“Is Skylar Wright here?” The gargoyle asks, trying to peer around the enormous display in his arms.

I hurry over. “That’s me.”

I help him get the flowers and balloon bouquet situated at the host station by the entrance. As I stare at the surprise gift, my heart pounds like a bass drum.