Page 39 of Effortless

August snorted. “Her newest boy toy is heading back home today, I guess.”

Chilla raised a brow, and took another look at Camilla. “That so? Got your heart turned up for a boy, huh?”

“No,” Camilla said. “I’m not turned up for anybody.”

“Then why did you say that like you’re all pissed off or something?”

Laughter filled up the salon from the other stylists and clients. Chilla was too good at her job—both wielding the tools to style hair, and keeping her patrons entertained. Camilla was not usually the topic of conversation, though.

“It didn’t go the way it usually does for her this time around,” August filled in. “Somebody didn’t break hearts this time. He seemed to be pretty cool with how she rolls.”

“And she rolls right back out of their life, right?” Chilla asked.

August laughed lightly. “Exactly.”

“So what’s the problem, Cami girl? Isn’t that your deal with people? You’re just out for a good time, not a long time. There isn’t anything wrong with saying you might have found somebody you don’t want to roll on.”

Camilla let out a long sigh, and knew there was no way she would be able to get out of this conversation now. “Actually, I thought he might say goodbye.”

Silence echoed back.

She looked to August and Chilla. Neither woman moved. Chilla, already working on the next micro braid, had stopped working altogether. August stared at Camilla as though she had suddenly grown a second head.

“What?” Camilla asked. “Is there something on my face?”

August smirked. “Other than love?”

Camilla made a gagging noise in the back of her throat. “That nonsense doesn’t exist, thanks.”

“You’re going to tell me that you don’t believe for a second your father loves your mother to death?”

Fine.

“So for some people, it happens. For me, it’s like a unicorn. It doesn’t exist.”

“Does too,” August said in a sing-song fashion.

“Stop your moving, Aug,” Chilla said, getting back to work on the braids. “Maybe the boy was just following your lead, Cami girl. Decided to roll on out like you always do.”

A small piece of Camilla seriously hoped that was not the case. A larger part refused to let her admit it.

“Not a boy,” August said quietly, “very much a man.”

Chilla cocked a brow, all interest and a sly grin. “That so?”

“Tall, dark, and handsome. Blue-eyed. Cute.”

“You didn’t even meet Tom,” Camilla said to her friend.

August shrugged in the chair. “She told me about him. He’s also got a good nine—”

Chilla whistled loudly, stopping August from saying more. More laughter lit up the salon, but the stylist passed a glance at the preteen girl having her natural hair combed out in the next chair. “That’s enough, Aug. We’re going for family appropriate here.”

“Yeah, August, shut up,” Camilla grumbled.

“Sorry,” August said.

“But not really,” Chilla finished for her.