4. Claire
4
I trade my sneakers for pink work boots, then load up my pen, notebook and thermos in one hand and make my way through the carpark.
The internal wall frames were finished this week, and the electricians should have been there today to start the first fix works.
For the last few weeks, the space has just been one big room, so I’m excited to walk through it with actual walls now.
I still work full-time at the beauty salon down the road from my and Lex’s little beach house. That’s why it’s usually near quitting time for the tradies on my site by the time I’m able to come and see the progress. Despite the owner being a complete tool, no pun intended, my site supervisor, Westley, is a total sweetheart.
I can hear heavy rock coming through the open back door and nod my head to a few guys passing in their Connors Construction T-shirts.
The pungent smell of glue and raw timber fills my nose, but right before I can cross the threshold, Westley comes barrelling through with an armload of offcut wood.
“Hey, Claire. Come to check on your baby?” he asks.
See, this guy gets it. Unlike his overbearing boss. This is my baby. Every decision matters.
“Well, I heard the wall framing was done, so I couldn’t help but come see for myself.”
“Yeah, let’s go check her out.”
He leaves the wood by the door and leads me to what will become my staffroom. I had planned for my beauty classroom to be in this spot, but both my architect and Westley’s boss eventually convinced me to swap the two rooms. I guess it made more sense to have the staffroom at the rear of the building.
I’m still salty over it, but as I take in the new space, my irritation ebbs.
It will be a decent size, with room for a little kitchenette and table, plus a cute little handbag hub. That’s how Tristan, my architect, described it. Basically, it’s a glory wall for everyone to hang their handbags with old school lockers underneath, and a bench top to put valuables. He said we could get them sprayed pink, and I was sold.
“We’re just cutting up the door trims and skirting while the electricians and plumber finish, and then the gyprockers will start next Monday to get your wall and new ceiling panels installed.”
I know there’s the dorkiest grin on my face as Westley leads me into the hallway to see the next rooms.
I poke my head into the storage room where there’s a guy on a ladder messing with wires in the ceiling.
The bathroom’s next, with more guys hovering over pipes where the toilets and double basins will go. The space is designed so that the first thing you see when you walk in is the double vanity with backlit mirrors and a giant chandelier.
I know it’s just a bathroom, but it’s gonna be a fancy as fuck bathroom.
“This is going to look so great,” I say.
“Wait until you see the main room.” Westley grins, and I follow him down the rest of the short hallway.
Tears well up when I reach the other side.
The floor-to-ceiling windows give a full view of Main Street. A pretty strip of jacaranda trees runs down the middle of the two lanes.
My salon is in one of the original Heart City suburbs, Rosewood. Quirky cafes and bars, eclectic clothing boutiques and Victorian architecture line the street, along with endless garden beds and wooden bench seats. Over the road is a cute little bakery with a powder blue exterior. Rosewood is the place to stay and explore for tourists and locals.
Liv, the owner of the bakery, is incredibly sweet. She brought over a welcome basket full of macarons, tarts, cannoli and éclairs when she noticed I’d come here for a meeting with my designer one day. She’s not good for my waistline, but that angel is definitely good for the soul.
I turn in the space. There’s wiring overhead near the front doors where the counter will be and lined along the main stretch of wall for the hair and makeup stations. The room makes an L-shape now that it’s properly framed out.
As I turn to my left, I see the smaller area that will have nail stations and smaller treatment rooms for waxing, tanning and lashes. At the far end of the space, there's an opening that will lead into the classroom.
My jaw drops as I think, fuck, maybe the boss man was right. That spot is better for the classroom.
The plan is to install barn doors and paint them a bubblegum pink with giant gold pull handles. Having them tucked around the corner from the main entry means you’ll get that wow factor when you come in for classes after hours. But during the day, from that Main Street view, it’ll just look like a funky salon.
I can’t deny the ache in my chest that the pain in the arse was right. I hate that feeling when a man might know more than me; it gives him the power when I’ve worked so hard to maintain it. And I know men can be right about things. I’m not under the delusion that I’m all-knowing and powerful and there’s no room for error, rare as it may be. But it still annoys me that he was right about this. This is personal.
“Looks great, hey?” Westley comes up beside me as I stand at the entrance to the classroom.
“Yeah, I can’t wait to see it finished.”
He nods, looking around the room. “This time next week, all the plasterboard will be on, and you won’t believe how different it will look again. Then we paint it that sickly pink you picked.”
I laugh. “Sickly! I think you mean amazing.”
“Hey, I got the wallpaper sample for you in the truck as well. I’ll have you take a look before you go, and then Lee can place the order.”
I clap my hands. “Yay.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Westley rushes down the hallway we came from while I return to the front and stare out the windows.
The sun is hanging low in the sky, painting a soft glow over the street. I see Liv come out of the bakery, huffing a light brown curl out of her face as she collapses the sandwich board sign out front, getting ready to close up for the day.
Calm washes over me, knowing I’m so close to having this dream become a reality. Good things are coming my way because of this place. I can feel it. I take a sip from my thermos as I stare out of the window with a smile.
“Here we go.” Westley trots back into the room with two rolls in his hand. “The boss ordered a second option for you to look at as well.”
“Of course he did,” I mumble under my breath.
Westley pulls some tape from his pocket, sticking it against the timber frame over one edge of the floral wallpaper and letting the rest roll down to the floor.
My eyes light up as I take in the familiar pattern of dusty pink roses with striking greenery that I picked from the supplier’s website.
While most walls will be painted, the one with the makeup stations will have full-length wallpaper.
I’m still smiling to myself when Westley tapes up a second design.
Gigantic blush peonies with subtle gold detailing fill the space, offset by a deep maroon background. The striking design perfectly matches the fiercely feminine aesthetic I was aiming for.
I remember seeing this design on the website when I was searching with Britt, my interior design consultant, but I thought the pattern looked too big. As I compare it to the one I chose, it actually seems more fitting for the amount of wall space it will take up. The blooms on my one look busy and chaotic compared to Lee’s bold, refined selection. My eyes twitch with the admission.
“Lee thought this bigger pattern had potential, given the slightly higher ceilings in the place.”
“Yes, interesting.” I pull the words from my throat. “Can I have some time to think about it?”
“Sure, just flick Lee an email so he can get the order in, and hopefully, we can install it the same week the painting is done.”
I nod and snap a photo of the designs to obsess over later. “I’m just going to take a few more photos, then I’ll be out of your way.”
“No worries, I’ll leave you to it.”
He retreats towards the kitchen, and I’m left with my thoughts as I look around the room.
Closing my eyes, I slowly spin on the spot, imagining what it will feel like once the salon is open and operating. The space filled with upbeat music, women chatting and feeling happy every time they walk in here, my team becoming a little family.
My heart pumps as if I’m running a race and the end is in sight, and someone’s waiting there to place that gold medal over my neck.
When I open my eyes, I’ve stopped right in line with the big, blooming peonies. The moody, burgundy background offsets the bright flowers with such captivating contrast.
When I look back at the design I chose, I grimace at how messy and cluttered it looks.
Fuck, the bastard was right. Again.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Parlour Tricks Beauty - Wallpaper
Hi Lee,
After careful consideration, I have decided the second option for wallpaper will be better for the salon. Adding in the burgundy and gold is a nice way to break up the colours.
Regards,
Claire Pryor