Tipsy (Take It Off #5)(8)
Author: Cambria Hebert

She smiled. A genuine smile.

Do it again.

Her smile fell away and it appeared she was having some kind of inner debate. Whatever it was went quickly because she sighed and the grabbed up the bright-green container of what she put in my hair and held it out. “Here, this is what I used. You can take it.”

“You’re giving this to me?”

She bit her bottom lip (which drove me crazy) and nodded. “You can use it to make your hair look like that.”

I looked at the product clutched in her hand and then up at her face. “Have dinner with me.”

She jerked like I slapped her. That wasn’t really the reaction I was hoping for.

“What?”

“Dinner. Tonight. With me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you weren’t interested.”

I laughed. “Do you think I would subject myself to this place if I wasn’t?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You could always ask Layla.”

“I already asked you.”

She shoved the hair stuff in my hand and then picked up a broom and dust pan. Her movements were stiff as she cleaned up what little hair she cut off me. “You had your chance. You never called.”

I grabbed her by the elbow and spun her around. “You had a good time.”

“You have a big ego.”

I moved quickly, crowding her personal space. “Are you saying you didn’t? Are you saying you don’t feel the chemistry between us?”

“Maybe I already have a boyfriend,” she replied, jerking her arm out of my grasp.

Actually, I hadn’t thought of that. Because I couldn’t think of her as anything but mine. Something sour rose up in my gut. “Do you?”

She sniffed.

A slow grin spread out over my face. “I’ll pick you up at seven.” I dug some money out of my pocket and put it beside the mirror. “Keep the change.”

Then I walked out of the salon without looking back.

5

Julie

When I got up this morning I really didn’t expect for my day to go as follows:

—Spill coffee on my shirt and have to change.

—Deal with three clients who have unrealistic expectations about the hair attached to their head.

—Watch Layla hit on Blue. Watch him turn her down.

—Watch Blue ask me out.

—Agree.

—Walk around in giddy shock and then be called into my boss’ office for a meeting I forgot about.

I couldn’t even be nervous. I was already so tied up in knots about my dinner with Blue that everything else seemed like details.

“Julie, please sit down,” Sandra said, in a smooth, southern voice.

I moved around the chair and sat down.

“You’ve been doing a great job the last couple weeks with the scheduling of the stylists and dealing with the product placements.”

“Thank you.” I actually enjoyed it. It meant a little bit longer hours, but that extra pay was nice and I took pride in the displays around here. I think the way I had it set up actually increased sales. The scheduling was a bit tricky because a few of the stylists thought they could take advantage of me by requesting certain days and shifts, but I quickly let them know it wasn’t going to happen. I planned to treat everyone fairly around here.

“I was wondering if you would be willing to take on the inventory.”

“Inventory?”

Sandra nodded. “Yes, since you’re handling product placement, I figured giving you access to the suppliers and catalogues would be a good idea. You are welcome to bring in any new lines you think would sell well. Just keep in mind I only want to carry three or four lines at a time. Anything beyond that—”

“Will just look cluttered and inconsistent.” I finished.

She looked impressed.

“I agree. Keeping the lines to a minimum will give the impression that we only carry the best and pay attention to what the clients need.”

“Yes. Exactly. But we will always carry Paul Mitchell. You can change the others, just not that one. Paul is a friend of mine.”

She was friends with Paul Mitchell? He was like the hair care king.

I agreed and she continued on. “You will need to set aside a block of time every week to take stock and keep track of what’s selling and what we need more of. Since you’re handling the products, I’d like you to go ahead and handle the color as well.”

I nodded, thinking of the cabinets full of hair coloring products in the back.

“Those will need reordered more than the products out front.”

“Okay.”

“I will show you how to handle the stock and then you can take over next week.”

I followed her back into the little kitchen where the staff kept their lunch and salon supplies. She quickly but thoroughly went through the way to keep track, told me what usually got used up the fastest (the blond colors), and then handed me a notebook and a binder with all the supplier information.

My eyes kept straying to a door that led off the kitchen, a door I’d never gone behind.

“Sandra?” I asked. “What’s in there?”

“Oh, that’s just a closet. The water heater and the electrical box.”

Boring.

We finished up the meeting and then I gathered up my stuff and hurried to my car. I had a date tonight!

Before climbing into my Hyundai, I sent off a quick text to Dee.

Have a Date. Meet me at my place. Wardrobe 9-1-1.

I didn’t wait for a reply. I just shoved my phone in my bag and headed for my townhouse just a few miles away.

I lived off of Gumbranch Road in a little development of townhouses that were only several years old. They were in rows. Each of them looked the same with light-colored vinyl siding, dark shutters, and concrete steps leading off the sidewalk and up to the front door.

I parked in my spot in front of my house and walked past the pots of colorful fall mums lining my steps and let myself inside.

The quiet of the home wrapped around me and I sighed. The scent of vanilla cinnamon wafted through the air from the wax melter that I always had on, and I dumped my bag and keys on the little glass-topped table by the door.

I kicked off my shoes and walked through the cozy living room and into the kitchen, which was in the back of the house. The slate tiles were cool against my bare feet, and I went straight toward the dark wood cabinet and pulled down my favorite mug and filled it with water. Once it was heating in the microwave, I rummaged around for a teabag and then leaned against the counter (it wasn’t granite, but it was made to look like it) and waited.