Chapter 26
Maria
" T hank fuck this day's over," Linda sighed as she flipped the sign over on the door and lowered the shade. She leaned dramatically against it, fatigue written on her pretty features.
"I don't know what's worse—a full day where I'm run off my feet or a quiet one where I'm bored off my feet."
I snorted in amusement as I zipped up our money bag. "Well, I know I'm biased, but the former one suits me." I wiggled the sealed bag I was holding, jiggling the coins inside.
Linda rolled her eyes as she pushed her svelte frame off the door and strode towards me. "Oh, yeah. I forgot what a total slave driver you are."
I whacked her ass playfully with the plastic bag as she brushed by me, laughing as she yelped and flipped me off.
I did sympathize with her gripe, though—today was an exceptionally busy day. Not exactly rare for the salon, but we usually had one or two cancellations, which allowed us a bit of breathing room and the freedom to accept last-minute walk-ins if time allowed. Today, no one canceled, and we still had a few walk-ins, some of which we managed to squeeze in.
It also didn't help that some of our regular clients cheekily added an extra service they hadn't advised us of in advance. By the end of the evening, I’d stepped in to assist with straightening and curling a few heads of hair just so we could try to close on time. We managed to hustle the last customer out forty minutes past closing, which wasn't bad considering it was a Friday night.
The other girls on shift had already left, eager to whet their palates with alcohol after a day where they barely sat down for lunch.
I wasn't in the mood for our usual Friday stress release, so I offered to close and shooed everyone out. They didn't need to be told twice.
Linda insisted on staying back to help me, which was odd, considering she was usually the first person at the bar on Fridays.
"Charli just texted." Linda curled her lip in amusement as she typed something on her phone. "She's trying to coerce us to come out."
I waved her off with a snort. "Not me. My bed is calling. It's been a long week."
"Yeah. I'm not in the mood, either." Linda's tone was flat and unconvincing.
My gaze immediately dropped to her stomach, which looked flat as a pancake. I was astute enough to know that something was off with her. She hadn't had a drop of alcohol the past few times we'd been out, offering instead to be the sober driver, even though her husband usually picked her up.
I knew they were trying to conceive and were forced to go down the IVF route. Could she be...? She hadn't said anything about starting the procedure yet, so perhaps it happened naturally. Not that I was going to say anything—even I knew it wasn't smart to ask a woman if she was pregnant, even if she was on her back pushing.
"Where did the girls say they were going?"
"Malley's. The Homestead's closed tonight, apparently. Some sort of private event."
My brow pulled down at that tidbit. Private event? The Homestead was popping on the weekends, so for them to close the whole venue down for a private function was a pretty big deal.
I was then reminded of the last time The Homestead had a venue closure.
Simon and Sofia's engagement party.
Christ, what if it was their wedding reception? A bubble of amusement rose at that thought, and I quickly dismissed the absurdity. The idea of Simon—Mr Armani , and Gucci loving Simon Dawson—having a wedding at The Homestead was laughable. He would only demand the best for himself and Sofia.
I waited for the inevitable sting of pain and resentment that usually accompanied thoughts of Simon, but the familiar hurt never came.
In fact, it had been a long time since I'd thought of him in that way—or in any way.
When did my feelings for him change? During therapy, I came to realize and accept that my leftover emotions toward Simon were an unhealthy attachment method, low self-esteem, and constant need for love. But I had still felt an empty sadness whenever I thought of him.
Now, all that was left was regret at the wasted time.
I knew the answer to my question, of course. It was no coincidence that my feelings for Simon started to falter when a certain construction owner with a penchant for mixed signals kept overtaking my thoughts. It wasn't a good sign that I was replacing one unhealthy obsession with another, but at least this time, I recognized the path I had been about to go down.
I tried not to think about Brian, but he was annoyingly stuck in my mind like a piece of gum burrowed into the pavement. I’d left his makeshift office with my head held high and a piece of my mind ringing in his ear, but I still felt sad for what could have been. I’d talked it through with Dr. Anna, who insisted that my feelings were common and praised my ability to set clear boundaries.
Although I knew Brian's feelings for me might have been genuine, and he truly did regret his words and actions at Da Vinci's, it didn't negate the fact that he was still going through his own personal struggles. The old me would've powered through, ignored the red flags, and accepted his flowers and apology. I did accept the latter, but the former had all sorts of strings and mixed messages attached. It would be wrong to entertain his attention. Still, I was allowed to feel a little blue about the whole thing.
Pushing those dreary thoughts aside before they overwhelmed me, I focused on my friend. "You're welcome to take off and join them if you like. I've got it from here."
Linda shook her head as she pocketed her phone. "Uh, no. I'm not drinking right now."
I waited for her to elaborate with another excuse, but she kept quiet, her eyes averted. I didn't need an explanation for someone choosing to remain sober, but the awkward manner in how she delivered the news had me pondering.
"Oh. Well, okay." My gaze again dropped to her stomach. Linda wasn't behaving like a person guarding an exciting secret. Instead, she seemed anxious and pensive. Come to think of it, she’d been very subdued lately and not her usual bubbly self.
When she started sweeping the floor for a third time with fast and jerky movements, I knew I had to bite the bullet and ask. Not that I wasn't concerned about what was bothering Linda; because of course I cared. I just wasn't exactly someone's first choice for deep conversations and sympathy. I’d probably make them feel worse.
"Hey," I said, reaching out to take the broom from her hands. "We're going to find out what the original flooring looks like if you keep sweeping that hard."
She blinked as if coming out of a trance. With a breathy laugh, she wiped her hands down her jeans. "Oh. Right.”
Just as I was about to demand she tell me what was up, Linda suddenly blurted, "Um, I wanted to ask you something."
Relieved that I didn't have to pull the words out of her, I leaned the broom against the wall. "Sure. What's up?"
"I need a week off from the 3rd of next month," she breathed out in a rush.
The silence hovered.
That was it?
Vacation requests were submitted through an online portal and went straight to my emails for approval. Asking me in person was odd.
"Um," I mentally shuffled through the roster. "I don't think anyone has that week off. I'm sure it'll be fine. Just submit it, and I'll make it official."
Her breath whooshed out. "Thanks."
"You and Justin going away?"
She shook her head as a pink bloom climbed her cheeks. "We're starting IFV."
"Oh!" Thank God I kept my mouth shut about her being pregnant. "Really? That's great, right?" I remembered her mentioning that they were saving for the procedure, so I was thrilled they could finally start that journey.
"Yes. And no." She leaned her butt on the receptionist's desk and folded her arms. "The last time I went on it, it wiped me out. The injections...they were a lot."
I frowned as I regarded her pretty face, marred in worry. "I didn't know you two tried it before."
"The beginning of last year. I didn't want to tell anyone in case it didn't work, and well...it didn't."
"Ah, shit. I'm sorry, Lins." Compassion bloomed in my chest for her. Even though I didn't want kids, I felt for Linda and Justin—two people I genuinely liked. Linda would make a kick-ass mom, so the fact that they were struggling to achieve that dream really sucked.
She shrugged and scratched her nose. "We've been saving up again, and Justin's mom gave us a loan for part of it. Th-this is our last shot. Not just because the cost is so high, but it wrecked me the last time." She shook her head. "If it's negative again, I just couldn't put myself through it a third time."
"Linda. I'm so sorry."
I didn't know what else to say, so I crossed over and engulfed her in my arms. She instantly leaned her head on my shoulder and sniffled. The discomfort and awkwardness I usually felt at human sympathy never materialized.
The few times I comforted Lissa were when she was upset after failing to worm her way back into Barron's life. Even then, I only managed a stilted pat on the shoulder before suggesting a night out drinking.
But this was different. This friendship felt different. I genuinely cared about Linda, and I hated to see her upset.
"Is that why you're not drinking? Is it not allowed?"
"It's not encouraged, yeah, but mainly while you're doing the injections. But I'm staying sober and eating healthy, drinking herbal tea, et cetera, to give myself the best chance to conceive. I just...I just want this so bad. We both do."
"I know. I want this for you both, too." I didn't want to give her flowery words about good things happening if you wanted them hard enough. Unfortunately, life didn't work that way. I knew firsthand no matter how hard you wanted something, no matter how good you were; or how many falling stars you wished on, it didn't mean you would get it.
Linda sniffled again, and I squeezed her shoulder. I railed again about how unfair it was that people who didn't deserve to be parents just breathed and fell pregnant; while others like Linda—good folks—struggled.
"I know there are other options. I'm open to adopting and we've started looking into it. But I don't know...I just always had this desire to carry a child—our child."
"Well, you know what? However it happens, I have no doubt that you and Justin will be parents. The best ones, too. Seriously."
A twist of sadness hit me when I recalled all the times I wished my mom would turn me over to the state for adoption. I envisioned some sort of Annie The Musical situation taking over, and I'd have my own Daddy Warbucks. But even a couple like Linda and Justin would've been a dream for little me.
Linda gave me another squeeze before she grabbed a few tissues from the box we kept on the receptionist's desk. "Thanks, hun. God, I didn't mean to blubber all over you."
I pushed aside the very weird vision of having Linda and Justin as my parents before throwing her an encouraging smile. "Don't worry about it. But seriously, send through that request so I can approve it."
Her smile was relieved and grateful. My chest warmed knowing that I successfully talked my way through an emotional episode; and made Linda feel a little bit better in the process.
She turned and started re-stacking paper that didn't need to be shuffled, but I left her to it. She probably felt self-conscious about her little wobbly moment, but I was secretly thrilled she trusted me enough to share.
I went about double-checking that each station was clean before we left for the night. The girls were always good about keeping their workspace spotless, but I still liked to helicopter-parent.
Just as I was about to head to my office to lock up, a loud and repetitive knock suddenly rattled the front glass.
Linda and I jumped and our eyes met briefly; wild and confused, before we turned in fright to the front door. Since the blinds were down, we couldn’t see who it was. However, I could spy a pair of jean-clad legs.
Before we could react, the door jerked open, and my heart leaped. We hadn't gotten around to locking the front door yet. It was a terrible habit of mine bred by the security of small-town living. There were stores still open on a Friday night; like the coffee shop and bookstore across the road, so we always took it for granted that we were safe. Perhaps it was a silly lull to fall prey to.
"We're closed," I firmly announced, marching forward. I didn't want to show any fear, even though my heart was racing.
We were used to the odd person who had a last-minute hair emergency trying their luck; but once we closed the register for the day, any pleas for service were ignored.
My steps faltered when I spied a tall, dark-haired woman framed at the doorway. She was wearing a trucker cap that obscured part of her face, blue boyfriend jeans; and a white T-shirt. She was also carrying a duffel and a garment bag; the latter which she held above her head.
"Oh, my God! You have to help me," she panted.
Despite the stranger's curious appearance, I was unmoved. We were both tired and I really wanted my bed.
"I'm sorry, but we're clo-clo…" My sentence petered out when the tall and gorgeous stranger whipped her hat off. My eyes bugged, and a strangled gasp came from beside me.
"Is that...? Linda started.
The not-so-stranger gave us the same wide smile I’d seen grace the recent cover of Vogue Italia . Her face was also on several magazines we had stacked in our reception area.
"Hi! I'm Mila," she confirmed. Linda and I comically gasped at the same time.
"You're Mila Mills," Linda squealed.
All sense of cool went out the window as she grasped my arm, her nails digging hard. But I barely felt the pain. I was still in shock that the supermodel nicknamed “ The Face” ; the current spokesperson of Revlon; and the rumored new girlfriend of a certain fifty-year-old actor with a taste for girls in their twenties, was standing in our small salon looking stressed. And still gorgeous.
It didn't take a genius to figure out that her reason for being in our small town was likely down to Eden Jamison—New Haven's very own golden girl and fellow supermodel. Ever since Eden based herself back in her hometown, we've had sporadic sightings of 5 "11 plus girls who stuck out like sore thumbs.
"I'm sorry; I know y'all are closed, but it's an emergency."
Without waiting for an invitation, Mila rushed forward and hung her garment bag over a mirror before folding her long limbs onto one of our high-backed salon chairs. She started to fan herself with her hat.
I had a feeling that my version of "emergency" was vastly different from Mila Mills'.
"You know Eden, right?" She waved her hand dismissively. "Of course, you know E. Anyway, tonight she's throwing her mom and Mike a surprise engagement party. You know Susan, right?"
"Uh..."
"She's an absolute angel! Reminds me of my own momma, but she lives down in Augusta."
She threw her cap on the table and started finger-combing through her long hair. "Anyway, I was supposed to be here earlier this afternoon, but I took a car down because I hate flying and only do it when I have to." She picked up a brush and started brushing out the ends of her hair.
"Unfortunately, there was a crash on the I-80. I was supposed to meet E and have my hair and makeup done; because after years of having a stylist, I just can’t do my own hair and makeup anymore. So I asked around town, and this lovely old lady recommended your salon. So here I am!" She spread her hands out and gifted us with another one of her megawatt smiles.
Linda and I stared at her with dropped jaws. That was a lot of information to process in thirty seconds, but all that registered to me was that Mila Mills needed her hair and face done. Tonight.
I glanced at the clock. It was just after 7 PM. Depending on what Mila wanted, I didn't envision us leaving here until close to nine. I was dead on my feet. Exhausted. Drained.
However...
Linda grasped my arm again. Her wide eyes fixed on Mila Mills, who was checking her pores in the mirror.
"This is fantastic," she murmured out the side of her mouth. She turned her body to block out our hushed conversation. "I follow her, and she's always posting herself at events and tagging the MUAs and stylists. If we do a good job, she'll tag us too. It'll be amazing for the salon."
That’s exactly what I was thinking. "You don't mind staying?" If we were to get this done in a decent time, it needed to be a two-person job.
"Of course not! I'll just call Justin and let him know I'll be late." She gave a discreet squeal. "This is gonna be so good." With that, she traipsed off to make her call.
I smoothed down my skirt and quickly checked my appearance in the nearest mirror before I plastered on an energetic smile. "I'm Maria," I announced as I approached Mila. "I'm the owner."
Mila sat up from her slouch; her dark brown eyes surveyed me from head to toe. "You own this salon? Oh, wow. You're so young. Good for you," her soft Southern voice enthused. "I know you're closed and probably exhausted, so I'm super grateful that y'all are doing this for me."
Pink hit my cheeks as I accepted her compliment. All signs pointed to Mila not being an egregious diva, which would make our job a lot easier. "No problem. I'm happy to help."
Linda joined us, and after swift introductions, we wasted no time getting down to business.
"So," I started as I fingered her hair. Although her long locks appeared natural, one slide of my hand told me she wore extensions. Not uncommon to come across and not a massive deal if done correctly. Luckily, Mila's extensions were high quality and expertly sewn.
"Wow! Your extensions are amazing," I gushed. "They blend in seamlessly with your natural hair."
"It's Mane Plan. They're amazing."
"Oh, yeah, I've heard of them. Their quality is top-notch, and I can tell yours has been sewn in evenly. Is it two rows?"
"Yes, here and here," she indicated. "My natural hair is shoulder length, and I had a Botox treatment in it about three weeks ago to get rid of any frizz."
I nodded. "And how often do you wash your hair?"
"Maybe once every two weeks. I like to have my natural oils grow in as much as possible. But I did have a wash and soft blowout about a week ago."
"Okay, that's fine. How do you usually wear your hair to functions?"
She shrugged one slim shoulder. "Straight and down. My extensions are low maintenance and do well with heat."
Relief blossomed that she didn't want anything overly complicated. It shouldn't take too long to do. "Shall we just stick to that, then? How do you feel about some soft curls?"
"Perfect, yes." She grabbed her phone and opened up her social media. With any luck, Mila might start documenting her glam right now.
Linda quickly gathered the equipment we needed, knowing wordlessly that she would handle the hair side of things.
"And for makeup, what are we thinking?"
"Honestly, I'm so used to wearing thick makeup for work, so something more natural but with a little bit of shimmer would be nice."
I framed her face and considered her flawless, dark brown skin. She had soulful, big eyes; thick eyebrows that I was dying to get my hands on; and naturally long lashes. Coupled with her full lips, I could see why she was a hot commodity in her industry. "Are you wearing anything right now?"
"Only a little mascara."
"And your skincare regime? Are you allergic to anything?"
After running through her everyday beauty routine I convinced her to let me do a hydrating sheet mask. It would add fifteen minutes to our time, but I could see that a day of traveling dried her skin out a little, and I didn't want to miss any steps with such an important client.
Once we removed the mask from her face, I got busy prepping her skin. "You have beautiful brown eyes, and your skin is glowing and even. Let's lean into that with a smokey smudged eye and a neutral eye palette with gold shimmer."
After getting her consent, I quickly started. Her brows were full and thick, so I decided to be bold and do them in the current laminated trend. They suited her so well that she gushed at how amazing they looked, and promptly took close-up photos of them.
As I blended colors to match her skin tone, Mila suddenly asked, "Do you know Eden?"
I paused for a second, my mind blanking at what to answer. Of course I knew Eden, but I didn't know her. In fact, Eden probably didn't have much of an opinion of me, even though we rarely interacted. Eden and I had history, but it was via Lissa.
Whenever Lissa caused problems, I was always by her side in silent but not always agreeable support. I often urged Lissa to let her one-sided issues with Eden and Barron go, but the bitch was too stubborn to walk away with her pride semi-attached.
I never had a problem with Eden. She was quite sweet—too sweet to handle a friendship with me and vice versa. At least back then.
"I went to school with her, but we mixed with different crowds," I diplomatically answered. "Then she moved to New York straight after high school. She's a lovely person, though." I added.
Mila smiled fondly, her affection for Eden clear on her face. "Yeah, E's the best. I miss her since she's moved. She used to host Real Housewives of New York premiere parties at her apartment. Now she lives here. In this...cute town."
I stifled a laugh at her careful words. I'm sure she was aghast that someone as worldly as Eden decided to move back to New Haven, where the most exciting thing we had was our annual summer fair.
After Mila's makeup was completed and her hair straightened and styled, she dashed off to my office to change.
My jaw dropped in awe when she finally emerged, looking every bit the gorgeous supermodel she was. She wore stylish, wide-leg black pants and a tiny, gold-cropped top that displayed her muscle-toned stomach. It was a simple outfit, but on her, it looked stunning.
"Do you mind taking a picture of my fit?" she asked, handing us her phone.
"Of course not," Linda surged forward. "We also wanted to ask if you would be interested in posting the picture and tagging our salon in exchange for service. We would also love to take our own picture, but only if you're comfortable with that."
To our relief, Mila smiled and readily agreed. "Of course! I'm definitely going to credit you guys, and I'm fine with having my picture taken. Y'all have done an amazing job."
With happy yet tired smiles, we snapped away as she gave us different poses and allowed us to take close-up shots of her face and hair.
By the time I dragged my ass through my apartment door, we already had twenty new followers. Mila wasted no time in posting her pictures.
milamills: The drip is dripping.
Thanks so much to @m in others, she posed with Eden and her family. There were other notable models present, and she tagged them all; which meant those photos would end up on their profiles along with the tags about our salon. This was incredible. The likes and follows on our page kept growing.
I came to the last photo, which featured Mila, Eden, and Sofia. They all looked stunning, but my gaze was fixated on Sofia in a simple white dress. It beautifully highlighted her glowing, brown skin. In one hand she was holding a champagne flute, and my keen eye zeroed in on her engagement ring from Simon. It was nice.
And again, I felt nothing.
My perusal moved to the background of the shot before I did a double-take. My stomach both spiked and dropped.
In the background of the photo, I could see Simon and Barron. But it wasn't Simon who held my rapt attention. It was the figure standing beside him.
Brian.