Chapter 8 Elevations
Elevations.
Two years.
It felt like a lifetime since I stepped off that plane in Thailand, my life in pieces, and my heart still raw from the betrayal that had shattered everything I thought I knew.
But now, as I stood in the middle of my own salon, looking around at the space I had built with my own hands, it felt like I was at the height of my new life.
I had made it.
EL’evations wasn’t just a salon; it was a manifestation of everything I had fought for and all my father wanted for me. Something I could have for myself that he gifted me, and the name was given in honor of him.
My method, which is tailored to every curl pattern, had taken the beauty industry by storm.
I couldn’t believe it.
Magazines, blogs, celebrities, and even influencers praise my work. People flew from all over the world to book an appointment with me. But none of this would have been possible without the incredible team I had assembled around me.
London was the braider—her fingers moved with such precision that you couldn’t help but watch in awe.
She was a quiet force, letting her work speak for itself.
I’d met her a year ago when I was still setting up the salon, and from the moment we connected, I knew she was someone I needed by my side.
Her passion for hair was contagious, and her work was impeccable.
Chelsea was the hairdresser—the one with the patience to handle haircuts, hair extensions, and permanent hair coloring.
She was meticulous, and her knowledge was unparalleled.
A fellow salon owner Hope knew highly recommended her, and I wasn’t disappointed.
We hit it off instantly when she showed up for a trial appointment.
I loved her energy, and I knew her vibrant personality would be a perfect fit for the atmosphere I was building at EL’evations.
Johanna was the receptionist and my personal cross to bear—she was a recent college graduate who had issues finding a full-time job.
I took her in as a temp, but she got comfortable here and has been with us for just over six months.
She was…young. Reckless at the mouth, loud, and always on the phone, but the staff and clients loved her energy, so I put up with it.
Finally, Esther had agreed to be the nail tech—we both moved to California together two years ago and shared a townhouse. Unfortunately for me, her and Hope’s friendship had been on edge lately, and I was caught in the middle.
“Elliot!” Esther’s voice rang out as I walked past the nail station.
I paused, forcing a smile at her because I knew I was about to get an earful. “Yes?”
“You better get her before I do.”
I frowned. “Who? Hope?”
“Yes. I’m gonna kill her.”
I sighed, already dreading whatever had happened this time. “What did she do now?”
Esther scoffed, throwing her nail file onto the counter. “The bitch told me she didn’t feel like my work was worthy of our Instagram page.”
Woah.
I gasped. “No, she didn’t.”
“Yes, she did!” Esther exclaimed, eyes blazing. “And I asked her, ‘What makes you think you can tell me my work doesn’t belong on the business page of the place I work at?’ And you know what she said? ‘Ellie put me in charge of it’.”
I sighed. Yes, I did.
But only because she had been difficult about her position at the salon outside of bringing in her friends. I felt bad for her. She was used to being the center of attention and the one running the show, so working for me had become a bit of a challenge.
Esther says she’s being spoiled and entitled, but I think it was deeper than that. Hope needed what I needed when I started a new chapter in my life back in Phuket. Purpose.
“I told her she could manage the social media accounts, but she doesn’t get to tell you that you couldn’t be on the page,” I said firmly.
“Well, the bitch did!” Esther exclaimed again. “I swear to God! If I wasn’t saved, I would’ve—”
“Okay, okay. I get it,” I interrupted. “I’ll talk to her about it.”
Esther was not satisfied with that solution. The look on her face told me she wanted her gone. “Why did you let her run the social media accounts, anyway? Johanna was doing a great job with it.”
“She needed something to keep her occupied. You know the girl is busy-bodied. She’s still trying to find herself and her purpose.”
Esther crossed her arms. “So? Let her ass figure out what she wants to do on her own time. It’s not like she’s a child. She’s old enough to not let her personal life affect our professional one. She’s gonna ruin the salon with her bullshit.”
“Come on, Es. That’s not entirely true. She’s bringing in clients.”
Esther snorted. “Her boujee, broke-ass friends that pay in Instagram reels? We make more money from local support.”
She wasn’t wrong.
When we opened, the support was outstanding and only grew as the days went by.
We were the only Black-owned salon with an entirely Black staff in the area.
On weekends, the girls did workshops for young teens interested in the Beauty industry, and once a month, we provided Beauty services for the women at the local shelter.
All of this was completely free of charge, but our giving back to the community unintentionally inspired the community to support us faithfully. That, along with our renowned talents, of course.
Hope didn’t really fit into any of those spaces. She didn’t have anything of value to teach the girls, and the idea of helping the women of the shelter terrified her for some reason, so she just sat on the sidelines.
“Still, we get exposure from her, so I want her to feel valued,” I explained.
“Whatever.” Esther waved a dismissive hand. “It’s your salon and your decision, ultimately. I just hope you don’t end up regretting it.”
I let out another sigh.
This was an ongoing battle, and I had no energy to fight it today.
“Besides that, how are things with the Expo coming along?” I asked, eager to change the subject.
“Annoyingly slow,” Esther admitted. “I haven’t heard back from them, but I definitely started prepping.”
The countdown to Atlanta’s Annual Hair Expo had begun.
Though the event was still five months away, it felt like the days were quickly slipping through my fingers. The Expo wasn’t just another hair show—it was the event for stylists. It attracted top talent from across the globe, and only the most qualified and innovative professionals were selected.
The application process had been grueling, to say the least. Not only did I have to put together a detailed portfolio showcasing my best work, but I also had to provide a written statement of my vision and brand.
I had poured my heart into it, explaining how I wanted to use my skills to empower Black women within the beauty industry and ensure natural hair was included in the conversations about Haircare and Styling.
Even though we hadn’t been accepted yet, preparing for the expo was already a reality.
Just in case we were accepted, I didn’t want to be rushed.
There were contracts to sign, vendors to meet, and, most importantly, models to find.
I had to make sure I had the perfect combination of women who could represent the diversity and beauty of natural hair and models who could carry my vision.
“You don’t think we’re moving too fast with this, right?” I asked hesitantly. “Should we wait to hear back?”
“Not at all! You are doing the work now to claim your success later. It’s called manifesting.”
I let out a small laugh. “Right.”
Esther grinned. “Don’t think about it too hard. Let’s just focus on today.”
“Okay.”
With that, I turned my attention back to the salon and the clients waiting for me.
“Ellie!” Johanna yelled out from the desk. I had already told her to stop shouting across the salon.
“Yes, Johanna?”
“You’ve got a call.” She pointed to the front desk phone. “It’s your mom.”
I froze for a moment.
Ma. We talked from time to time, but our relationship was rocky at best. She hated that I moved to California and opened the salon, and I hated that every conversation we had turned into a guilt trip about my ex and my sister.
Let’s see what we argue about today.
A familiar knot formed in my stomach as I made my way over to the desk. My fingers were cold as I picked up the phone and lifted it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Elliot,” my mother’s voice came through, crisp and distant, as if nothing had changed. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
I exhaled slowly, taking a moment before responding. “I’ve been busy, Ma. You know that.”
“I know that you’ve been ignoring my calls. I’m starting to get worried about you.” There was a pause on the other end, and I could almost hear her frown. “I understand you’ve been focused on your business, but you need to check on your family once in a while. We all miss you, you know.”
I cocked an eyebrow as if she could see my annoyed reaction.
“We, as in who?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Don’t get smart. You know who I’m talking about.”
I sighed. “Ma, I’m too busy for this.”
“Elliot,” she warned, her voice firm. “Let me say what I have to say.”
I clenched my jaw. “Fine.”
“I know how much you’ve grown to love your life in California. I’m not asking you to throw it away. But you should come home to visit sometime. Make peace, Elliot. You can’t keep holding onto this anger forever. It’s not healthy.”
I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t anger I was holding onto—it was self-respect.
But I couldn’t find the words. Instead, I bit my lip and let her talk, tuning out the voice of the woman who couldn’t see the strength I’d found in myself after the people she thought I should forgive had almost stolen it.
“You’ve always been stubborn, you know that?” she said after her long speech. “But I still love you. You’re my daughter, and I want to see you happy.”
Her words hung in the air, but they didn’t land the way they once had.
“I am happy,” I said, cutting her off before she could say more. “I’m at work. I have to go, so I’ll talk to you later.”