Standing in front of the mirror hanging on the back of her dorm’s door, Emma ran her fingers through her long, thick honey blonde hair. She didn’t really need to smooth out her stick-straight mane, but since she wasn’t sure how much longer she would have it this way, she wanted to savor the feel of running her fingers through its length.
Mussing its middle part just a bit, she took a moment to appreciate how darker roots naturally gave way to the lighter color as the silky mass framed her face before falling to one-length just below her rib cage. Warm brown eyes looked back at her, set above a pert nose and full, sensual lips that gave so easily into a smile.
Picking up her comb, she started running it through the lengths of her hair as she paced back and forth in the dorm room, waiting for her sister. On her desk sat a small pile of cards that would decide what she looked like by the end of the afternoon; instruments of randomness she and Cindy had come up with together before making use of gift certificates they’d received at Christmas for a nearby hair salon. The place had an amazing reputation, so Emma didn’t doubt the end result – whatever it was – would look great. But a bit of nervousness tainted her excitement anyway.
When she was finished pacing and combing, she checked herself in the mirror again, straightening the grey top she wore in tandem with her usual blue jeans. Cindy had always been the more stylish and colorful of the two of them, but that didn’t prevent them from accidentally twinning their daily outfits every now and then. Even a stone’s throw from their twentieth birthday, it was still rare that anyone except family and the best of friends could tell them apart.
As she considered her appearance, the door opened and her reflection in the mirror was replaced with its real-life counterpart, fresh from a study date with George.
“Sorry for running late,” Cindy said. She tossed her book bag onto her bed and tore off the blue t-shirt and white capris she’d been wearing, replacing them with a grey top and blue jeans of her own.
“Seriously?” Emma asked. “I thought the whole point of this was to not look alike.”
Cindy grinned mischievously as she pulled on her sneakers. “I thought it be fun if we tried to meet up with George and Mark to see whether they can guess who’s who.”
Emma couldn’t help but think that was a very dangerous game to play, but given how cocky Mark always was about being able to pick the two of them apart… “Okay. But any fallout is your fault.”
Cindy stood and tossed her thick hair back behind her shoulders. “Always is.” She grabbed the cards from her desk. “Let’s go!”
The salon was right off campus, making for an easy, if slightly hurried, walk on a gorgeous day. Inside, a receptionist with beautiful blonde curls gathered back into a low ponytail took their names and asked them to wait a moment. Emma watched as the receptionist headed into the back of the modern-if-slightly-industrial-looking salon to politely interrupt two women who were talking to one another. Both were beautiful and almost extreme opposites of one another, with one wearing her golden brown hair in a near crewcut and the other wearing a her gorgeous red curls in a massive, high ponytail that reached well past her shoulders.
“Okay, if that’s a sign of how good they are with hair, I think we’re in decent hands,” Emma murmured.
“Huh?” Cindy replied. When Emma followed her twin’s sightline, she forgave her for being distracted as a Greek statue come to life was styling another young woman’s hair a short distance away.
Emma’s brief trance was broken when the short-haired stylist asked, “Cindy and Emma?”
The sudden question startled Emma, and she wondered whether the woman was part cat. “Yes, that’s us.”
The woman smiled and offered a hand. “I’m Rebecca, and this is Audrey.”
The redheaded stylist smiled, and almost looked like a predator of sorts as she looked at the two heads of blonde hair before her. “I have to admit I was wondering what was up when I saw the single booking for two stylists, but I get it now.”
“We’re not one of those sets of twins who do everything together,” Cindy insisted.
“Not often, at least,” Emma corrected. Then she thought about it. “Well, actually…”
“But that’s beside the point,” Cindy interrupted. She held up the cards on which she had carefully written out several polar opposite style possibilities in beautiful calligraphy. “We were hoping to do a hair roulette thing, if you’re okay with that.”
Rebecca seemed unsure, but Audrey quickly replied, “Whatever the customer wants. Of course, your appointment notes mention you have gift cards to use, and if the total cost goes over them…”
“They won’t,” the receptionist said from her spot at the front desk. “Trust me.”
“Our aunt felt it was time for us to look like individuals,” Emma explained, “rather than just trimming each other’s hair, so… here we are!”
“Who will be picking first?” Rebecca asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Emma can,” Cindy replied as she handed the stylist the cards. “I’ll take whatever choices she doesn’t pick. That way—“
“—we definitely won’t look alike,” Emma finished. It would have been just their luck to choose independently, but yet somehow wind up with the same style.
“Okay. Emma’s with me today, so why don’t we head back to my chair and find out what we’re up to?” Audrey asked.
“How about we follow along?” Rebecca asked Cindy, already playing with her charge’s long locks as they followed Audrey and Emma back.
In truth, whatever her chosen cards wound up saying, Emma was glad that she wound up with the stylist with long, beautiful hair of her own. She felt that raised the odds of getting a result that was a bit more reserved — not that she wasn’t looking forward to a change from her current look, but Cindy definitely was more excited about it and was probably loving the idea of having the more wild of the two women working on her.
Audrey patted the back of one a stylist chair that sat in front of a mirror surrounded by photos of clients with beautiful hair. Rebecca handed her the cards and Audrey flipped through them. She then turned the chair so Emma was facing. “And you’re both perfectly okay with all of these options?”
Emma, through intense negotiations with her sister, had pretty much memorized the possibilities:
- Undercut vs no undercut
- Dark color vs light color
- Short vs long
- Bangs vs no bangs
- Wavy vs straight
“I am,” she said in time with Cindy. They’d long since stopped saying “Jinx!” when that happened.
“Perfect. And you don’t want this filmed or anything?”
The girls shook their heads.
“This is just for us,” Emma explained. “Maybe just a few after pictures when we’re done.”
“Okay.” The chair moved beneath Emma a bit more, and Audrey explained that she didn’t want Cindy to be able to see the backs of the cards in the mirror reflection.
One by one, Audrey held up the pairs of cards in no specific order and asked Emma to raise her right or left hand. After Emma did the unchosen card was discreetly handed to a very un-pokerfaced Rebecca, who grinned widely as she read each. Both Cindy and Emma giggled through the whole process, though Emma wasn’t sure whether it was from nerves or excitement.
Probably a good bit of both.
Finally, when the last card was chosen, Audrey shooed Rebecca and Cindy from her work area and spun Emma to face herself in the mirror. “Are you ready for something new?” She asked.
Emma chewed her bottom lip, and then met the stylist’s gaze in her reflection and nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Cindy somehow managed to resist looking over Rebecca’s shoulder as they walked to Rebecca’s station. She reminded herself that half of the reason for doing this was the surprise, and Christmas mornings were always less fun if you already knew what your gifts were.
When they were where they needed to be, Rebecca turned with a bright, genuine smile and offered Cindy a seat. Once the girl’s butt met the cushion, the carefully written cards were stashed in the back pocket of Rebecca’s black pants and the stylist’s hands were back in Cindy’s hair, lifting its length over the back of the chair and running through it from roots to tips.
“I have to ask this, so please don’t be insulted, but is this all natural?”
Cindy smiled. “Yup.”
She gathered Cindy’s heavy locks back, lifting them into a ponytail as she examined her hairline and the way the locks fell when she let go. “Wow. Just one head of hair like this is lucky enough, but two… You’re both very lucky.”
“Thanks!” The examination of and playing with her hair went on for a while, and Cindy found herself looking for clues in every facial expression or hand gesture Rebecca made, especially when the stylist started squinting at Cindy’s reflection, her lips squished to the side in thought.
The stylist stepped in front of Cindy and leaned back against her workstation’s counter. “Now, to be clear, the instructions on the cards are hardly very specific.”
“So, does that give me leeway to interpret them how I want, or should I play things conservatively?”
Cindy smiled, her heart picking up its pace in excitement. “I read the reviews you received, so I honestly would be disappointed if you didn’t use your own interpretation.”
Rebecca’s bright smile made another appearance. “Perfect. I’ll do my best to avoid disappointing you, then. Let’s get to it.”
With a flick and a swish, a dark cape suddenly surrounded Cindy’s shoulders, falling softly across her lap before her hair was lifted forward and dropped in front of her shoulders.
“I’m just going to do a rough cut first, then we’ll handle your color — whether it’s lighter or darker — and then we’ll fine tune everything afterward, okay. So don’t panic. At least not until I say we’re completely done, okay?”
“Noted.” The cape was fastened fairly tightly around her neck, but not uncomfortably so. Then Rebecca took to the long tresses with a few swift strokes of her comb. Cindy watched her work in the mirror as her long hair was gathered behind her shoulders once more, simulating how she might look with a sleek, one-length bob.
It wasn’t a bad look, she decided, though she somehow doubted all of the cards would have fallen in line allow that result. And even if she did look good with the pseudo-bob, she probably would be bored with it before long.
Using a few clips, Rebecca expertly arranged about half of Cindy’s hair into miniature buns, forming carefully measured partings about two inches above her ears and securing everything above that out of her way.
“Should you turn me away from the mirror so I can be surprised?” Cindy asked as the hair that remained free was carefully combed again. She was already imagining herself with long, flowing layers, and hoped she wound up getting the ‘wavy’ card as well.
But Rebecca shook her head as she smiled. “I think you’re going to want to see your expression as we go. Besides,” she said as she opened one of the drawers beneath her counter and pulled out a pair of hair clippers, “I’m pretty sure you’d be able to guess some of the cards you got anyway.”
Despite knowing how the situation was setup, Emma was still somehow surprised that Audrey hadn’t even asked anything regarding her personal tastes. The stylist had simply read the cards, eyed Emma, put the cards in a drawer, and then began playing with Emma’s hair. Eventually, she dampened and combed it all, and then began sectioning and clipping most of it up out of the way.
Emma could have sword her heart actually froze afterward when she thought Audrey was reaching for a pair a angry-looking black clippers, but instead the stylist’s fingers selected a long, thin set of shears before she turned Emma away from the mirror and asked, “Ready to head into the unknown?”
Emma swallowed, and nodded. A gentle touch tilted her head forward, and the comb began to tease her nape and shoulders again as it slid through her long, soft blonde locks. She couldn’t tell where the comb sat when it finally stopped, but a distinct, harsh crunching sound started soon after.
A small wave of relief washed over Emma as she realized she might have drawn the ‘long’ card. Of course, Audrey was clearly leaning on her own opinion of what “long hair” meant, but Emma felt certain her hair would remain past her shoulders. If nothing else, she was fairly certain her ponytails, fun buns, and braids would all remain styling options.
After Audrey’s blades had traversed the width of Emma’s back the first time, another layer was let loose and then shorn away, followed by another. Somewhere during the shears’s third trip across, Emma heard clippers pop to life in the distance.
Cindy bit her lips to muffle a squeal as her head was tilted to the side. The hair that had remained loose was lifted and dropped in front of her left shoulder, forming a honeyed river as it fell over her breast and toward her lap. She watched as Rebecca set the clippers in front of her reflection’s ear, pausing only to say, “Trust me, you’re going to love how this feels.”
A nervous smile formed when Cindy felt the vibrating clipper head linger against her cheek, its unfamiliar roar nearly deafening so close to her ear. Then it began to rise and its pitch changed, becoming much more focused and determined as it mowed its way through her thick mane, leaving behind nothing more than a carpet of soft brown fuzz before Rebecca pulled it away at the carefully manicured parting she’d formed earlier.
The stylist have Cindy a moment to take in the sight of her fuzzy patch of scalp. Then Cindy’s hand went there, her fingertips sliding over the velvety covering. Her other hand covered her mouth as a gasp escaped. “Ohmygod!”
She did her best to keep herself quiet, not sure how much her sister had figured out about her own makeover. “This is the undercut?” She whispered.
Rebecca grinned. “It will be. Shall I keep going?”
Cindy returned her head to its tilted position, closing her eyes as the clippers were set against her cheek and lifted again. Each time the clippers met her soft, healthy hair she was taken surprise by the change in pitch, as well as each time little sparkles of delight shimmered across her scalp and down her spine. She’d seen videos of girls clippering their heads before, but she never realized how good the process could feel. By the time her right ear had been completely bare and Rebecca’s clippers were sliding up her nape behind it, she felt like she’d been let in on one of the most well-guarded secrets in all the land.
Was this what George got to feel every time he had his own head clippered in the summer? That bastard had been holding out on her.
A slither against her breast caused her to open her eyes, and she found herself looking at a flood of her long, beautiful hair sliding free from her shoulder to gather in her lap. So soft and silky, shiny in the sunlight pouring in through the window, she might have regretted allowing it to be sacrificed in the name of style and individuality if the constant teasing of her occipital bone by the clippers didn’t feel so damn good.
As the long, honey blonde locks continued to gather in her lap, Cindy found herself thankful the Gods of Genetics had blessed her with such thick hair. Most undercuts she had seen — and, to be specific, the one she had in mind when she convinced Emma it should be an option — were only a few inches high, at most. But Rebecca was taking this one over halfway up Cindy’s head. She wondered whether it’d even be possible to hide it when she wore her hair down.
A gentle nudge tilted her head again, this time to the right, and the hungry, loud clippers set about shearing away any tresses still tumbling free around her left ear. Once that one was bared, too, Rebecca revisited every shorn inch of Cindy’s nape and sides, dedicated to making sure there wasn’t a single bit more than an eighth of an inch in length.
“Can I feel it?” Cindy asked once the clippers quieted.
Her palm quickly met her nape, almost eliciting another gasp as the strange sensation assaulted her through her clippered scalp and her hand. Chills ad thrills rampaged through her as her other hand joined in, and she forced herself to stop when she realized her hips had begun squirming beneath the cape.
“You good to go?” Rebecca asked with an amused grin afterward.
Blushing, Cindy nodded.
“Good,” the stylist said, starting to undo the clips atop Cindy’s head. “Now for the dramatic part.”
Cindy’s eye widened as her still-long tresses fell around her. They were thick enough to hide her new undercut form a quick glance, but she wasn’t sure the camouflage would hold up under lingering inspection. “That wasn’t dramatic?”
“Not as dramatic as it will be.”
Cindy watched as the long locks falling next to her right eye were gathered together and lifted away. Rebecca’s fingers pinched a hold on them about six inches from her scalp, and then her shears darted in and snipped the captured length off.
Again, Cindy’s eyes widened. Another thick lock of her hair was herded away from her scalp and snipped short, followed by another and another as Rebecca worked her way back toward Cindy’s crown. The long, shorn locks fluttered down softly into her lap, some desperately trying to cling to her shoulders as if that would be their saving grace, but there was no salvation for them.
Cindy watched quietly as the girl with the beautiful long hair in her reflection slowly disappeared, each crunching snip of the metal shears bringing her closer and closer to a clippered, cropped vixen she’d never seen before.
Sitting perfectly still as Audrey combed her hair down from its center parting, Emma contemplated the soft, slightly-layered ends of her honey blonde locks that barely reached an inch or two past her collarbones She’d almost been certain she’d drawn the ‘long’ card when Audrey started cutting, but… in her mind, this qualified her as being short-haired.
With impressive precision, Audrey carefully lifted thick locks of the hair Emma had left and snipped into the ends, softening them a little more before reperfecting her parting. After stepping back and looking Emma over, she stepped close again and began forming a new part, combing thick swaths of Emma’s blonde mane forward while tucking the rest behind Emma’s ears.
“So, I noticed that the cards said light hair or dark hair,” Audrey mused.
After a moment of silence that wasn’t filled, Emma replied, “Yup.”
“Does that mean there aren’t any limitations on color? As long as it falls in the correct category?”
The stylist pulled the ridiculously thick section of honeyed tresses away from Emma’s eyes, smiling as she met the girl’s gaze with a curious, raised eyebrow. Emma had a feeling she might be getting into dangerous territory, but… she wanted to stay in the spirit of the moment. And if college wasn’t the time to get crazy, when would be?
Wrinkling her nose, she answered, “No limits. Whatever you think will look good.”
Audrey smiled. And with that, she tugged the gathered locks down in front of Emma’s eyes, lifted her shears, and with one long, brutal snip, chopped them all off at the bridge of her nose.
Sitting with her neck resting back against the shape bowl, Cindy had to resist purring every time Rebecca’s magic fingers slipped through her wet, soapy hair or gently caressed her nape through the soft blanket of velvety fuzz that remained.
“I realize common sense would suggest my shampoos will take less time now,” she said, “but if they always feel like this, I think they might take longer.”
Rebecca laughed. “Spoiler alert — they always feel like this once you get it right, and if you keep the back and sides super short.”
“I… I think I might. At least for a while.” She opened her eyes, looking at the short, light brown micro-pixie Rebecca wore. “Has yours always been short?”
Rebecca laughed again as she began rinsing Cindy’s short hair. “Not even remotely. It’s been this short since around Christmas.” She raised her voice a bit to add, “My boyfriend kept pestering me.”
“He seems like a great guy,” the male stylist replied.
“You and him?” Cindy whispered. “Good going!”
The stylist rolled her eyes and tossed a clean, warm towel over Cindy’s face. It was then arranged to blot her hair, and Cindy was led back to Rebecca’s station.
“Here’s another spoiler alert,” the pixied stylist said. “Your hair’s been through a lot today, and you’ll be through a lot, too, so I’m not going to give you a permanent wave. I will, however, show you how to do it with a curling iron so it’ll be quick and easy for you on your own. That sound okay?”
Cindy thought about it, and then nodded. “Okay. At lest that’ll give me some straight style options, too.”
“It certainly will.” Rebecca spun the chair to face away from the mirror, and Cindy heard the sound of metal clinking against the countertop as the shears were picked up again. “Now we get to the detailing part, so get comfy.”
Audrey’s question about color lingered front and center in Emma’s mind as the stylist diligently coated her thick hair with the concoction that would bring the stylist’s master plan to fruition. At one point, considering Audrey switched brushes and bowls and even changed the plastic gloved she wore, Emma got the feeling more than one color was involved.
Potential combinations played through her head as she waited for the color to set, an imaginary sizzling sounding in her ears as she thought of all the bleach horror stories she’d encountered. But these were professionals, not dorm roommates, she reminded herself, and the reviews had cited excellent color work.
She was going to be okay.
But the nerves remained, even through the most relaxing shampoo she ever experienced, and even through the soft melody Audrey hummed while rinsing Emma’s treasured mane clean.
Emma wasn’t allowed to see herself in the mirror when she returned to Audrey’s station and had the towel removed from her wet locks. Somehow the stylist even managed to blow it all dry without giving Emma so much a glimpse of her shoulder-length locks. Even her bangs — the thick, heavy blanket of bangs Audrey trimmed into a steady line just beneath Emma’s elegant eyebrows — didn’t reveal their true color, what with the terrible angle Emma saw them at.
All she knew was that Audrey seemed terribly pleased with the result when every hair was positioned to her liking.
The stylist set her hands on the arms of the chair.
“Okay, you ready to see?”
She hadn’t expected to feel the clippers again, but after Rebecca had set the shears down, the clippers were picked up once more. Cindy stopped breathing when she felt the cold metal blades touch the side of her head, and she forced herself to sit perfectly still as Rebecca seemed to carve an intricate pattern into what remained of her once tumbling, long locks.
The stylist bounced form side to side, tilting Cindy’s head this way and that to make sure everything was lining up, and Cindy was finally able to breathe again when the two separate designs seemed to meet successfully at her nape.
“This is just a bit of flare I wanted to add,” Rebecca explained. “If you don’t like it, it’ll grow out in a week and we can clipper everything down to one length again then.”
Cindy nodded. “Sounds like a plan,” she replied, pleased with how much more confident she sounded, compared to how she felt.
“Okay, so if Im going to show you how to curl your hair, I think we can do the sneak preview now. Are you ready?”
Cindy slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a nervous giggle. “Okay, hold on, just a second.” She took a deep breath, begging her heart to stop pounding. It refused to do so, but after a few breaths she decided she was ready anyway.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
Rebecca spun the chair, but remained standing between Cindy and the mirror. Then, with a dramatic flourish, she stepped aside as if presenting the main act in a talent show.
Cindy’s jaw dropped. The long, flowing, perfectly straight mane of beautiful honey blonde hair was completely gone; she couldn’t even imagine how the cards drawn could have fallen in a more perfect way to achieve this look.
Instead of the familiar woman she saw every time she’d looked in a mirror or at her sister, there was a stunning, but startled, redhead looking back at her — a redhead with hair that was a gorgeous, rich auburn streaked with occasional highlights of the purest red. From her crown to her forehead, three and four-inch lengths practically glowed in the sunlight, looking ridiculously long when compared the the sides and nape where nothing more than a dusting of color remained, adorned with an intricate Celtic knot the color of her pale scalp.
“Holy shit,” she whispered. “That’s freaking amazing…”
Rebecca smiled again, the pride in her work evident. “You make my work look easy. Seriously.”
Cindy didn’t quite believe that, but couldn’t bring herself to argue it, either. She was too busy running her fingertips around her pale, adorable ears. They’d need to be decorated, too, just like the design carved into her hair decorated her head. At least a few more piercings in each, or an ear cuff. There were so many possibilities…
Rebecca moved behind her, wielding a curling iron. “Okay, last step. Take notes.”
Clenching her eyes shut as the chair spun around, Emma took one deep, calming breath and held it. Then she eased one eye open, catching sight of a blurry mass of blonde in her reflection. Her nerves somewhat eased, she opened her eyes fully and gasped.
Her hair was lighter than it ever had been, but, to her relief, not wildly so. Rather than honey blonde, she was a silky golden blonde, ranging from the goldest of golds to nearly white summer highlights. Around her face and among the heavy set of bangs framing her eyes, though, little peek-a-boo bits of teal shone through, working to complement her dark brown eyes so they stole the show. “I swore I thought you were going to give me some crazy color…I love the teal bits!”
Audrey laughed. “You almost wound up with a head full of teal, but you looked kind of terrified when I asked — even though you said yes.”
“Thank you for holding back. I’m sure it’d have been lovely, but… oh my god, this is so me! And I love easy it is to swing around now that it’s short!”
Audrey cocked an eyebrow. “You drew the long card, hon.”
Emma blinked. “What?” She ran her fingers down the length of her hair, playing with its perfect ends and loving how soft and silky it felt. Tucking it behind her ears, she asked “Are you sure?”
Again, Audrey laughed. “Believe me. If you drew the short card, you wouldn’t be able to do that ear tuck anymore.” She reached into her drawer and pulled out the cards that had been chosen. Sure enough, the ‘long’ one was in the stack.
“Oh my gosh.”
“Rebecca has short hair. You still have long hair.”
Emma looked at the stylist’s abundant red curls. “What would you call yours, then?”
Emma giggled as Audrey pulled the cape away from her shoulders and spilled the smaller touch-up clippings to the floor. She slid forward in the seat, smiling as her lighter, beautifully lobbed hair slid forward, working with her bangs to provide a gorgeous frame for her features. She then gathered it back, forming a familiar, if shorter and spunkier, ponytail, and then shook it loose again.
As she stood up, Rebecca peeked around a divider and asked, “You ready over here?”
“I believe so,” Audrey replied.
“Yeah, definitely,” Emma said.
“Good. Come on around.”
Emma did as requested, tucking her hair behind her left ear as she did. She wound up jumping around the corner, eager to see her sister. When her feet hit the ground, she wound up freezing in place.
For almost twenty years, her sister had always — always — been a mirror image of her. But suddenly, despite sharing the same face, Cindy stood before her with a wild mane of auburn and red waves that danced and fell across her forehead without hiding her beautiful features. On her sides and at her nape, the long, beautiful hair that they once had in common was just gone, completely shorn and, in some spots, seemingly sculpted away.
“Oh. My. God!” They both wound up screaming. There was a collision when they both burst forward, each eager to take in every bit of their sister’s transformation.
“You look freaking hot! Like, seriously hot,” Emma insisted.
“You look great yourself!”
“No, I’m cute. You’re hot!”
“You both look amazing,” the receptionist chimed in from her desk.
“We’re not paying her to say that, either,” Audrey clarified. “You both do look amazing.”
“Your hair is so short!” Cindy laughed.
Emma laughed, too, as Cindy reached out to stroke her comparatively long blonde locks. “Really? Mine is so short?”
Cindy grinned as she pulled out her phone. “Well, compared to how I’ve always seen you with it. Come on, now. Picture time.”
With Rebecca snapping pictures, Emma gave her best Next Top Model effort, while her sister did the same. They made sure that the photos wouldn’t be uploaded anywhere automatically.
Leaving the salon, Emma slipped her sunglasses on. “So what’s the plan with the guys? Tell them to meet us at the bar and then show up late so they’ll both be there?”
“Works for me,” Cindy replied. She was already giggling evilly as she texted George. “Do we want to bet on whether they’ll know who’s who?”
Emma hit send on her message to Mark. “I think we both know neither of them will. Especially since I plan on borrowing some of your clothes.”
“Ooh, I like that! I might just do the same. Why make it easy on them?”
After sweeping up the long, blonde tresses scattered on the floor around her chair, Audrey pulled open one of the drawers at her station. She picked up the cards inside, and poked her head around the divider between her and Rebecca’s workspaces.
“Hey, did Cindy leave her cards with you?”
Rebecca picked them up off of her counter. “I was about to toss them in the trash. Why?”
Tapping Emma’s cards again her lips, Audrey glanced toward Victoria. The receptionist was sitting at her desk, twirling the ends of her long curls as she organized the salon’s calendar for the coming week. As she worked, Sandi, the business manager with glossy, raven locks that had grown to reach her waist since the days when she worked as the salon’s receptionist herself, stepped beside her to ask a question.
“I mean, that was kind of fun, right?”
“It was,” Rebecca replied.
“Well, maybe we should try to have some more fun. And we could create a pair of walking advertisements for our work at the same time.” She turned to Rebecca and smiled. “There’s just a lot of untapped potential on our staff, is all Im saying.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes and handed the cards to Audrey. “They’re my and Brad’s staff. And only if they want to.”
Audrey nodded, and sorted the cards together. “That’s not a no.”
I apologize if I’m posting too often lately — I’ve just been hit with the mood to write, ideas for stories, and being in between video games to play. Just tell me to sod off if it’s gotten annoying. 🙂