Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
Maren
“Earth to Maren.”
I blink and make eye contact with my client, Rosa, through the mirror. “What?”
She chuckles. “You’ve been zoned out and brushing that same part of my head for a solid minute.”
My eyes widen and I move to set the brush down. “I’m so sorry. I’m distracted. I’m not usually this unprofessional,” I insist, grabbing the straight iron and preparing to add some volume to her dark hair.
She giggles and asks, “Is it at least a man? I mean, if you’re going to be distracted, let’s hope it’s because there’s a guy.”
“Oh, uh, no,” I reply, adding straightener curls. “Nothing like that.” Even though it’s kind of exactly like that. “My car wouldn’t start today.” My eyes automatically flick over to the coffee sitting on my counter.
“Ugh, that sucks. Things like that can really fuck up your whole day,” she says.
“It can, for sure,” I readily agree, still trying to not think about my short time with Camden this morning.
“At least you got coffee,” she adds, her dark eyes sparkling.
“True.” I leave out the part it was the man I’m trying not to think about who purchased said coffee.
“Good coffee always makes everything better. That and chocolate.”
I grin and complete her curls. When I spray down her hair with a flexible hairspray, I gently pick them apart, which gives her hair a nice, natural look. “What do you think?”
She beams at me through the mirror, turning her head to the side. “I love it,” she proclaims.
I hold up a mirror so she can see the back, and when she nods her approval, I return the mirror to the hook and remove the cape. Once I have that hanging too, I hold the chair while she stands and follow her to the front counter.
“Would you like to book a next appointment, or do you prefer to reach out when you’re ready?” I ask, even though she’s already told me she tries to get her hair cut every eight weeks.
“Let’s go ahead and book it now. This way it’s on my calendar,” Rosa states, pulling out her cell phone and her calendar app.
I give her a few days and time options, and considering I’ve just started at the salon this week and I’m building my clientele, it’s wide open.
Of course, I’m not going to tell her that outright.
Rosa picks her date and time, and it feels good to slowly be adding clients to my schedule.
I know it’s going to take time, but thankfully, there’s enough business to add another stylist to the mix, and from what Jenn told me, I’ll still be able to pay my bills and put food on the table.
For now, I’m happy to take the walk-ins, and there have been a handful each day. Mostly men, but that’s fine with me. I’m happy to give them a quick cut and keep them moving about their day.
After Rosa leaves, I swiftly clean up my station, sweeping up the hair and wiping down my chair.
“Maren, there’s a request for a cut and color this afternoon. I don’t see anything on your schedule. Do you want it?”
“Yes, please,” I reply, my heart beating fast at the thought of getting two appointments in one day. “I’ll make it work.”
She nods and returns to the phone.
Shit, that reminds me, I need to text my dad about Theo.
I quickly pull out my phone, so I don’t forget again, and fire off a message.
Me
My car wouldn’t start this morning and I had to get a lift. Can you pick up Theo when you get off work?
I slip my phone back in my pocket and finish tidying up, making sure my combs are submerged in the sanitizing solution. Just as I get ready to head for the back room to start a load of towels, my phone chimes in my pocket.
Dad
Yes, of course. Where can I get his car seat?
Oh, crap! His seat is still in Camden’s truck.
Me
Shit, I left it in Camden’s truck.
Dad
Camden’s truck?
Me
Yes, he generously gave me a lift this morning, including dropping Theo off at daycare. He was leaving for work, so it was easier to jump in with him and not have to bother you and ask you to leave work.
I have diarrhea of the mouth, but I can’t seem to stop typing.
It’s like I’m trying to convince him it was nothing more than a neighbor helping another neighbor, and honestly, I’m not sure why I keep typing.
Dad knows Camden isn’t my biggest fan, and I’m sure he understands him offering me a ride was a big step for him.
Me
Is there any way you can stop by his work and pick it up? I know I’m asking a lot, but I don’t have Camden’s number to text him.
Me
You know what, I’ll walk down there during my lunch and grab it. Then you don’t have to make extra trips. I don’t know why I didn’t just suggest that the first time. You’ll still have to make extra stops, but at least it’s only here.
I’m breathing a little harder than I should be, a touch of panic and anxiety gripping my chest. This is not a big deal though, I keep reminding myself.
Yes, it’s a bit of an inconvenience, but it’s not the end of the world.
If anything, I should go purchase a second seat for Dad.
This way, if something like this happens again, or if I have a last-minute client or one that takes longer than anticipated, Dad doesn’t have to run all over town to be able to pick up my son.
Dad
It’s no problem, honey. I’ll stop by and grab the seat from Cam when I get off work and go get my buddy. We can hang out until you’re done with work, and then I’ll come back and grab you. No need for you to walk down to the shop and carry it back. It’s supposed to snow more this afternoon.
Tears fill my eyes at how quickly he adjusts to the change in his schedule.
He’s always been so willing to help, and that’s only grown now that I have Theo.
The fact we went almost seven years with little contact still guts me.
Why I listened to my mom all those years ago will always be something I regret.
Leaving will always be my biggest regret.
But I was young and dumb and thought she knew best.
Turns out, I was wrong…
Me
Thank you, Dad.
Dad
Of course, Maren. Love you.
Me
Love you too.
I take a deep, calming breath and replace my phone in my pocket.
Then, I start loading the washing machine with towels and add detergent.
While the unit starts filling, I move to the dryer and find towels that need folding.
I told Jenn I would happily keep up with the laundry while my clientele was building, but she insisted it not fall solely on my shoulders.
Lila and Jenn both make sure to start a load when the basket gets full, but I still insist on doing more than my share.
I can’t just sit around and wait for a customer to come in. I have to do something.
Once the towels are folded and stacked in the cabinet between the washing stations, I stop and finish my coffee—which is cool now—and use the restroom. When I’m done, I’ll do more sweeping, just making sure the reception area is cleaned up and any traces of melted snow is dry.
Just as I exit the restroom, I notice a woman standing at the counter, talking to Lila. My coworker turns her attention toward me and smiles. “Maren, this is Hazel Fitzgerald. She was hoping to squeeze in a hair set.”
“Of course,” I reply, excited for yet another client. “Come on back, Hazel.”
She grins and heads my way, her little legs shuffling as she moves through the room, walking to the washing stations.
“I appreciate this. I usually go to Tammy over at the other salon, but she’s canceled my last two appointments.
I’ve been going to her for almost twenty years, but she started shifting my weekly appointments around or canceling them altogether to accommodate more clients.
Ones who pay her more,” she says as I help her into the chair.
“Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that,” I reply, trying to keep my replies professional. The last thing I want is it going around I’m bad-mouthing the competition.
“Sharon says it’s for clients where she can make more money.”
I turn on the water, making sure it’s a nice, warm temperature before leaning her back. “That’s not right,” I state, ensuring she’s comfortable.
I love these adjustable washing station chairs and sinks. They’re so much more comfortable for the client than the old units, moving easily and providing a more natural fit for your head and sink while sitting in the chair.
“No, it’s not, and that’s why I’m here.” She gives me a beaming smile, and I wonder if she’s new to town.
I can’t say I knew everyone when I lived here growing up, but I like to think I did, and I don’t remember her.
Clearly she lives nearby, considering she’s been going to her stylist for nearly two decades.
“Well, let’s get you washed up,” I tell her, getting to work.
I make sure to spend an extra couple of minutes gently massaging her scalp.
Even if she’s only here one time, I want Hazel to have a great experience at this salon.
Then, maybe in the future, she’ll return when she needs another wash and set.
“That was lovely, dear,” Hazel says when I wrap a towel around her head.
“I’ve always thought the wash and massage were the best part of a salon day,” I reply with a wink.
“Oh, I’m sold,” she agrees with a chuckle.
Carefully, I help her stand and we make our way to my chair. I engage the lock so it can’t move from side to side and ensure she’s comfortably and properly seated. Then, I grab a cape and prepare to set her hair.
“What size rollers do you prefer?” I ask, pulling my container off the shelf.
“The small ones, please. I think they’re half inch.”
I nod and start removing the rollers. Once I have everything set, I get to work.
It’s been a hot minute since I’ve done a roller set, but it comes back to me quickly.
At the salon I worked at before I relocated here, I didn’t have any older clients, so it wasn’t part of my regular schedule.
I did, however, do one or two while filling in for another stylist, but that’s about it since cosmetology school.
“You’re new here, huh?” Hazel asks as I work through her hair.