36. Dove
DOVE
I borrowed Josh’s pickup to head into town since I still wasn’t ready to drive my mom’s car like I used to, parking it in the small backlot behind the salon that needed a repaving somewhere around ten years ago.
A bell chimed when I opened the salon door, the sound creating the instant realization that I hadn’t been here to visit since her return to Haven.
My eyes tracked over the layout of the quaint salon, noting the few touches that were clearly Reverie-inspired.
I couldn’t help but notice that much of the salon remained the way the previous owner, Betty, had kept it.
As if she was afraid to fully set up shop and call this space her own.
“About time,” Reverie called, stepping out of the small backroom I knew housed all the color supplies and doubled as a breakroom. She’d helped Betty a lot when we were growing up, shadowing her and shampooing clients, so that meant I’d spent a decent amount of time here, too.
“I’m surprised someone cancelled on you so last minute.” I crossed the aged laminate floor to where her station was set up. “I know how they can be about their hair here.”
Reverie waved dismissively. “It wasn’t anyone from Haven.”
My eyebrows rose in surprise. “Someone from the city?”
It wasn’t like it couldn’t happen, but yeah, it just didn’t. They only came for the festival; beyond that, they forgot about our little town the rest of the year.
“Well, a city, yes.” Reverie turned her chair, patting the back of it invitingly. “Sit down, Miss Riley, we have much to catch up on.”
I sat down, smiling up at her. “I guess we do.”
She leaned against her station. “Oh, I know we do. Don’t think I’m letting you get away with not spilling the details on that magical night I helped make reality.” She narrowed her eyes at me, crossing her arms. “I’ve been waiting.”
I could feel my face heating up. “We’ve been busy!”
Reverie snorted. “Yeah, busy fucking.”
I sputtered. “N-no! With the harvest!”
“Is that what you farmers are calling it nowadays?”
Her eyebrow waggle had my eyes rolling. “And what about you?” I quickly countered. “You just show up with Zeke and fail to mention you’re together again?” I couldn’t keep some of the hurt out of my tone, even though I hadn’t been the most open with her about my relationship with Josh, either.
Reverie looked away. “We’re not together.”
“Rev.” Doubt laced her name as I said it.
“I already told you it wasn’t serious. It’s not like that,” she denied. “It’s just a summer thing. Until...”
My stomach dropped. “Are you moving back to LA?” She never made any promises to stay in Haven, but I hadn’t expected her decision to leave to come quite so soon.
She wavered, as if unsure on what to say, before answering, “No. Not back to Cali, at least. But I—” Rev sighed heavily. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s get rid with these split ends of yours, then we can chat. Deal?”
Knowing we’d get to it eventually, because even if it took time there wasn’t much we didn’t tell each other, I agreed. “Deal.”
She coaxed me back to the shampoo bowl, and after a thorough wash that nearly had me falling asleep, she led me back to her station.
“I forgot how unflattering these things are.” I grimaced as she pinned the cape around my neck, and I became a floating head.
Reverie ran her hands through my wet hair, making sure it wasn’t stuck in the snaps as she secured it, our eyes locking in the mirror. “No one looks good in these, babe, trust me. This lighting certainly doesn't help.”
Now that she mentioned it, I could hear the low-level buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead, even over the music she had playing low in the background.
They had a slightly yellowish cast to them, and had probably been here since Betty had opened the salon.
I wasn’t even sure how long ago that was, now.
“I considered replacing them with LED’s since Betty pretty much gave me the green light to do whatever I wanted to this place, but...” Reverie shrugged, grabbing a brush out of her drawer. “I wasn’t sure if it was worth it when I might not be here that long.”
Every time she mentioned leaving, my heart sunk. I reminded myself that just because I wanted my best friend here with me in the worst way, I didn’t want it at the expense of her own happiness. Even if I was pretty sure the happiness she’d been “chasing” was really located here in Haven.
“Is there a salon somewhere you’re interested in, is that why you mentioned leaving?” I probed as she brushed through my damp hair. Her lips twisted in the mirror, her eyes downcast as she focused on what she was doing.
“Not entirely sure yet. There’s someone in New York trying to convince me to work for him.
He used to come spotlight at the salon every few months, and he was good friends with my boss.
He had some high-profile clients in California who made it worth the trip.
Apparently, he has more business than he knows what to do with in New York and not enough stylists he trusts.
He knows my work.” Our eyes met in the mirror when she glanced up.
She shifted around me to set the brush down on her station, grabbing a comb and her scissors.
“Healthy trim?” she asked, moving to stand behind me again.
I nodded. “Do whatever you think it needs. I just want it long enough to pull back?—”
“Because of the farm,” she finished, knowing me well. “You got it, I can work with that.” She gentle guided my head down. “Tip your head down for me. Perfect. Stay just like that.”
I smiled down at the cape at her memorized speech.
My best friend had been made for this job.
She was wildly creative and even more wildly outgoing.
Her lack of friends in this small town had been intentional, because I knew she could befriend anyone.
There just hadn't been many people Reverie wanted to befriend here. It’s why she’d flourished in LA.
Her comb glided through my hair as she sectioned, and I could hear the quiet snip as she began cutting.
“I’ve been taking some of my clients out here.”
Her confession was so soft I almost missed it, and the shock of that statement had me fighting not to lift my head.
“They fly all the way out here?” The amazement was clear in my voice. Could you imagine? Flying across the country just to get your hair done...I was definitely in a different tax bracket than her typical clientele.
“Can I even afford this haircut?” I joked, but not really, knowing how much her clients must pay her to do their hair if they could book a round trip just to get it done.
She smacked my head lightly with the comb. “It’s free dollars for you, like it always has been. Reward for all the pain and suffering you had to go through while I was learning.”
I went to protest, like I always did, even though there had been some questionable bathroom haircut sessions in our past, when she hadn’t quite mastered cutting evenly. And then there was the disastrous time I let her give me bangs…
“Keep your head down, and no arguing with the women holding the sharp object. You know the rules.”
I kept my chin tucked, but secretly I was devising a way to sneak some money into her drawer without her seeing. It would be tricky, but I’d find a way. She wasn’t the only stubborn one between the two of us.
“If they’ll come here of all places, they’ll go to New York no problem,” I mused.
“Yeah,” she agreed. She came around to the left side of me, her hands moving effortlessly to cut the ends even.
“I was putting out feelers to a few of my most loyal clients. See if it was something they were down for. Most of them had their flight details before I’d finished booking their appointment. ”
“That’s great, Rev.” And I truly meant it. I knew how hard it could be to build up a loyal client base. She’d worked hard for her success. “That means they love your work and want to support you.”
She moved to my other side, her scissors snipping away.
“Yeah,” she repeated, but I could tell it wasn’t with the enthusiasm it warranted. “You can look up now.”
I brought my head upright, looking at her as she came to stand in front of me, checking that both sides were the same length. “What’s wrong?”
My eyes tracked her in the mirror as she moved behind me, but her gaze refused to meet mine as she quickly replied, “Nothing. It’s perfect, honestly. My clients are willing to travel to me, and I can continue to build my book in New York. It’s just...” She trailed off, but I knew why immediately.
“Zeke?”
Reverie exhaled shakily out her nose, pinching the bridge between her fingers. It was her instant tell that she was going to cry.
I spun the chair around to face her. “Oh, Rev.”
She sniffed, waving me off. “I’m fine. Really. Just... he wasn’t meant to trap me here again.”
Zeke had never trapped her in the first place. She’d grown up here and left the first second she could. But I treaded lightly.
“Maybe he’ll want to go with you?”
Her jaw dropped, scandalized. “I could never make him leave his family. You’ve seen them. His family is... they’re so good, Dove. They’re perfect and he loves them. They love him.”
“They love you, too,” I added, because she needed to hear it. Reverie hadn’t had the best upbringing. Her dad had left them young, while her mom had often been withdrawn, battling undiagnosed depression and alcoholism. Because of that, she had a problem recognizing how amazing and loveable she was.
“Debatable, after everything,” she muttered self-deprecatingly. Her hair swished around her shoulders as her head shook resolutely. “No, even so, I wouldn’t ask that. Plus,” her voice grew soft, “he wouldn’t anyway. He loves Haven. Everything he loves is here.”
Except you.
But I knew better than to say that.
“Ugh, my mascara.” She dabbed at her shiny eyes, swiping to make sure no makeup had run. Like always, she looked perfectly put together, even when teary-eyed. “Turn back around, I have to do your layers.”
“Rev...”