The Salon – Part 22

One Client, Three Appointments

That particular Thursday morning, Lara's first client had also booked appointments with Nico and Gael. It wasn't often that someone signed up with all three of them back to back. Mia had carefully worked out how much time each of them would need at minimum, then arranged the schedule so the woman would have only a few minutes between treatments.

The round-faced woman, somewhere around forty, walked into the salon a few minutes before her appointment. A woven basket hung from her arm, its brown lining patterned with pink polka dots. Her lips were coated in a thick layer of pale lilac lipstick. Lara had been waiting for her, so she settled straight into the comfortable armchair.

"If the water's not warm enough, or you'd rather have it cooler, just say so."

The client cautiously dipped her toes into the tiny bubbles. Her eyes widened for a moment, she pulled her foot back, then slowly lowered it into the water again.

"At least it wakes me up a little," she said dryly. "In this heat, a bit of refreshing does you good."

Lara bent down and reached for the temperature dial.

"I'll turn it up."

The woman held up both palms.

"No, no, this is fine. Really."

The salon fell quiet. Nico murmured with his client in the corner. Mia slipped out of the room, phone in hand. Gael took her place, moving into the salon's calm with light, easy steps. He greeted everyone with a small nod. Lara's client stared dreamily at the ceiling, not even noticing the masseur.

A little later, the woman lay face down on the massage table, her round face fitted into the opening of the headrest. Gael gently laid his hands on her bare back.

"How firm do you want it?"

The woman gave a lopsided shrug.

"Doesn't matter to me. I'm guessing you won't break any bones, though."

Gael's mouth curved into a half-smile.

"I'm not planning on hurting you. My touch tends to run a bit firmer than average, so it's important you tell me if it's too much. Deal?"

The woman gave a low grunt of agreement. After that, she didn't speak again. Soon she went completely limp under Gael's hands, sighing contentedly every so often.

Gael always left his clients a quarter hour to rest after a treatment. The woman stayed on the table until the very last minute, then wandered, a little dazed, over to Nico's station.

Once she'd sat down, she reached into her basket and pulled out a box of hair dye.

"I hope you don't mind that I brought my own. I don't want to take any chances. I want exactly this eggplant shade."

Nico took the box from her. As he read through the text on the back of the packaging, a frown creased his forehead.

"On your hair, this definitely won't come out eggplant."

A wry smile flickered across the woman's face.

"I figured you'd try to talk me out of it."

Nico looked up.

"I'd swear on anything that this isn't going to be the color you want."

The woman exhaled sharply.

"No offense, but I've known my friend for twenty years, and you for barely a minute. I think it's understandable if I trust her more."

"Is your friend a hairdresser?"

"No, but she owns a hairdressing supply shop. She knows her stock pretty well."

Nico gave a curt shrug.

"Fine. But I did warn you, didn't I?"

The woman's foot tapped rapidly against the black tile. Her eyes darted between the box of dye and the mixing bowl set out on the edge of the counter. Nico finally picked up both and headed to the workstation behind the sinks.

The minutes ticked by in an oppressive silence. A muscle occasionally twitched along Nico's clenched jaw. The woman watched him work with a rigid posture.

Meanwhile, Lara, Gael, and Mia sat having coffee at the little table outside the salon. That only made Nico more uneasy. His hand trembled as he lifted the hair dryer. The woman raised an eyebrow.

"Well, the moment of truth has arrived."

Nico's face hardened for a second, then he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. The dryer roared to life.

Nico watched, expressionless, as a pink-tinged purple slowly emerged from the damp strands. He avoided the woman's gaze, unwilling to see her disappointment, and not about to risk the client catching any flicker of satisfaction on his own face. After all, it was her own friend who'd tricked her — probably without meaning to.

As soon as the street noise swallowed the click of the woman's shoes, Nico joined the others and dropped into the chair beside Gael.

Mia glanced around, then burst out laughing.

"Oh, don't take it personally! Nobody forced her to walk around with a blueberry pudding on her head."

Nico didn't answer, just shook his head irritably.

Gael stretched out his legs, tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and soaked up the warm sun on his face. Mia rested with a dreamy expression, one hand forgotten on her chest, while Lara sat absorbed in her reading.

A sharp ping cut through the silence. Mia sat up, startled.

"Oh, a review… We haven't gotten one in ages."

She picked up the phone resting on the table and opened the app.

"Well?" Nico pressed, swallowing hard.

The color drained from Mia's face, and her mouth fell open. Lara stopped reading and pulled her chair closer.

"Please, just tell us!"

The receptionist began reading in a faltering voice.

"Today I visited this salon, where I first had to soak my feet in ice-cold water for my pedicure. Then a bony-handed masseur got to work on me, and I swear all he cared about was finding and pressing on every spot that could possibly hurt. Finally, as the grand finale, instead of eggplant, the hairdresser dyed my hair the color of spoiled cherry sauce. The only upside to the whole thing is that as I staggered toward the bus, freezing, trembling with pain, with a moldy cherry mop on my head, a few people thought I was begging and tossed change into my basket. At least that covered the bus fare. Highly recommended for thrill-seekers and anyone who's into pain and torture."