Chapter 2 Jade
Jade
Was this place actually serious? Jade shuffled the sauces and crouched to see if anyone had stuffed sriracha behind the BBQ. Nope. Not behind the mustards, relish, chilli sauce, nothing. What in the actual fu—
‘Um, hi.’
A timid voice cut into Jade’s not-so-timid internal monologue about the moral failings of the supply chain bosses who had somehow not procured the best condiment on earth.
A doe-eyed, pink-cheeked woman with long, wavy chestnut-brown hair stared at Jade.
Her neon pink shirt caught Jade’s attention.
Rainbow letters spelling ‘Queer AF’ paraded across her chest. Jade’s eyes lingered.
On the cute message, of course. Not on the way the fabric hugged her full curves. Or … mostly on the message.
The woman jerked her thumb behind her shoulder. ‘The guy up front, he told me where to find you.’
Jade stood up straight, towering over the woman by a good six inches in her own estimate.
‘I mean, I asked him where to find you.’
Hmmm. Now I’m intrigued.
The woman cleared her throat. ‘Sorry, um, did you find a wallet?’
Jade’s frown from the sriracha debacle switched into a grin. Lucy. Once she said ‘wallet’, it only took Jade a moment to connect that this woman was the same one on the driver’s licence she peeked at earlier. ‘The rainbow one? Yeah, I did.’
‘Oh my God, you’re seriously an angel.’ Lucy folded her hands in front of her chest. ‘I was freaking out! Ugh, I can’t believe I left it here. I thought for sure someone would’ve stolen it, and holy extra-chunky guacamole replacing everything would have been such a massive pain in the booty.’
Jade propped the plastic grocery carrier on her hip. ‘The booty, huh? Wouldn’t want that.’ She took a bit too much pleasure in the pink that brushed Lucy’s cheeks. ‘Don’t worry. I only pocketed a fifty. I left everything else.’
‘Perfect, so you didn’t find the hundred-dollar bill. Good to know that my hiding spot still works.’
‘You have one of those too? I thought I was the only one.’ Jade had no actual bill-hiding spot, but this woman’s scattered, excited voice was doing something to her insides. Coming off a not-so-great day, and an even worse last two years, this was a refreshing breath of glittered air.
Lucy dodged an oncoming cart. ‘My dad always told me, keep a hidden twenty-dollar bill, and always have a quarter in case you need to make a call.’
‘Jesus, how old are you?’ Lucy looked to be in her early thirties like Jade, but one could never tell these days. ‘A quarter? I thought payphones were obsolete in the last twenty-five years.’
Lucy strummed her fingers on her cheek. ‘Clearly my anti-wrinkle cream is working.’
Jade switched the carrier to her other hip. ‘I have a confession to make.’
‘I knew it.’ Lucy twisted her mouth. ‘Were you going to hold a knife up to my wallet in a ransom pic?’
Oh boy. She’s really adorable. Stop this conversation immediately. ‘No. I peeked at your licence. I was going to find you on social media and shoot you a message that I turned it in at the counter, in case you didn’t remember where you lost it.’
‘You looked at my licence? So, you know what my middle name is?’
Jade chuckled. ‘Is that your actual middle name?’
‘Sunshine?’ Lucy nodded. ‘Sure is. My parents … they’re a unique bunch. Not sure how they thought Lucy would go with Sunshine, but here we are.’
‘Well, it’s definitely original.’
‘Not quite as original as your purple hair, though.’
Jade patted the side of her head. ‘Purple? This is called Midnight Amethyst, thank you very much.’
‘Well, it’s very cool.’ The playfulness in Lucy’s voice faltered to soft, and Jade lapped it up. Lucy dug the tip of her chequered Converse into the metal shelving.
‘Have you ever coloured yours?’
Lucy tucked a lock behind her ear. ‘No. I mean, not really. I tried highlights a few years ago. But really, I’m about as boring as they come.’
Nothing about this woman was boring. Something tugged at Jade not to end the conversation. Maybe because it was the first non-client and non-family conversation she’d had in a year? Maybe because she needed a distraction from what was happening at work? Whatever the reason, it felt … nice.
‘Well’ – Lucy waved at the mustard and ketchup behind Jade – ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt you and whatever street fight was about to happen with the sauces.’
‘Ugh. My angry face. Sorry. They’re out of sriracha for the second day in a row. And how’s a girl supposed to eat her eggs, you know?’
Lucy grimaced. ‘You put sriracha on your eggs?’
‘You don’t?’
Lucy shook her head. ‘Born and bred central Minnesotan here.’ She stuffed the wallet under her arm. ‘Pretty sure I don’t use sriracha on anything.’
Okay – her giggle, a little high-pitched and nasal, was adorable.
Jade needed to jet the hell out of here before they chatted any longer.
She had a life plan – a very long, thought-out, therapy-guided life plan – which did not include talking to a cute, charming stranger.
She had learned her lesson, hard. ‘In Chicago, I used it on everything. Eggs, veggies, pizza.’
Okay, maybe just a few more minutes …
‘Chicago, huh? What brings you to Minnesota?’
Running away from my past, seeking an unattainable new future, burying my memories in a different state. ‘I opened a salon.’
Lucy lifted a brow. ‘Oh really? Which one?’
‘Jade’s on 7th.’ She pointed at the store entrance like there was an open window but quickly dropped her hand.
‘Are you Jade?’
‘Yep.’
Lucy shuffled her weight between her feet. ‘Your place is the one by the bubble tea shop?’
Jade nodded.
‘I should stop by.’ Lucy tugged at the bottom of her strands. ‘I haven’t cut my hair in over a year.’
Jade slapped her hand against her heart. ‘Nails on a chalkboard, saying that to a stylist.’
‘Is it better or worse than scraping a fork on glass?’
‘What sort of sociopath are you?’ Jade’s smartwatch timer beeped. Dammit. But also, probably saved by the bell. ‘Speaking of hairstyling … I have a perm to do. I should head back to the salon.’
‘Head back to the salon.’ Lucy tapped her wallet against her thigh, a smirk rising. ‘Is that a play on words?’
Jade chuckled. ‘No, but it should be.’
‘People still do perms?’
‘You’d be surprised.’ Jade grabbed a wasabi-based seasoning that would do in a pinch and set it in the basket.
‘Well, Lucy Sunshine Green. It was nice to meet you.’ Jade wanted to tell her this was the best convo she’d had in a long time and ask for her number.
Which would be ridiculous, of course. Chicago-gate was barely eighteen months old.
No, she was tired. Overworked. A tad horny. That was all.
‘You too, Jade’s on 7th.’ Lucy inched back. ‘Thanks again, seriously. You’ve restored my faith in humanity.’
‘Don’t give me that much credit. I might trip a toddler on the way out just for fun.’ Jade winked.
A wink. Really? What in the hell am I doing?
Lucy lifted her hand in a sort of awkward half-wave goodbye, spun on her foot like a slightly uncoordinated dancer, and speed-walked from the aisle.
Jade strained her neck to see if she would turn back and give a wave.
Nope, nothing.
Good. No look back was good. Jade had moved here for several very specific reasons – to settle into her single life and shield her recently mended heart from any potential heartache, to open a business, and to rediscover her damn self. Not to flirt with the cute woman in Aisle Five.
She self-scanned a can of tomato soup, an apple, two chocolate bars, and the wasabi sauce – a lunch of champions if she said so herself – and raced back to the salon.
Sunbeams ricocheted off the sea of foiled hair, and the scent of bleach wafted into her nose. Seeing all ten chairs fully occupied in the middle of the weekday did something sparkly to Jade’s insides. If she were more on speaking terms with her family, she’d snap a picture and send a group text.
‘There you are.’ Mrs Dieterman folded the lifestyle magazine in her hand and set it on the side table. ‘Thought you forgot about me.’
‘I would never. You’re my favourite.’ Jade slung Mrs Dieterman’s jacket around her forearm.
Eighty-five degrees in August, and she still brought a light coat.
Jade held out her arm, and Mrs Dieterman gripped her, shaking a bit as she stood.
After making their way across the sand-coloured mesquite hardwood floor to Jade’s station, Jade spun the black leather chair and eased her into a sitting position.
‘Would you like coffee, extra sugar, splash of cream?’
‘That would be delightful.’ Mrs Dieterman tilted her head and Jade fastened a smock. ‘Got any of those tea cookies?’
‘Just for you.’ Which was not a lie. Jade had them on opening day, along with champagne, a charcuterie board that cost almost as much as her rent, and an espresso stand.
Mrs Dieterman walked in and downed five cookies.
Jade promised to have them on hand for when she visited – which turned into a strict weekly shampoo set, monthly trim, and every other month perm.
Jade grabbed a mix of yellow and blue rods – never again making the mistake of using all yellow like back in her early hairstyling days. The client had stomped out with a scowl, a few choice words, and what looked like a poodle on her head.
The back-room door flung open and Shayna, Jade’s top stylist, flew through, balancing colouring bowls, brushes, and a smock.
‘Whoa? When did you do that?’ Jade circled her hand towards Shayna’s face, which sported fresh, sharp, razor-edged blond bangs. ‘I leave for twenty minutes and it’s a whole new you.’
Shayna tossed the items in the sink and pinched the edges of the hair grazing her red chunky frames. ‘You like it?’ She dipped her head and looked in the mirror. ‘You don’t think I look like Thelma from Scooby-Doo, do you?’