I groaned, trying to lean further and further around the partition so I could get a better look at her. Here, she was pretty. Here, she was more of a threat, and I could finally see what he saw in her. The realization was a gut punch, a tearing open of the wounds I fought so hard to staple closed after Nate left.
Within moments, she stood, dropping 2 one-dollar bills beside the plate, taking a sip of the pink drink in front of her and walking from the restaurant, her nose buried in her phone.
Just like she’d appeared in my life, in a flash, she was gone.
Chapter Ten
I’d left my apartment early the next morning, already positioned in front of the woman’s house when she walked from its doors. I was becoming obsessed with her, but I couldn’t stop. After Ben had gone to bed, I’d spent most of the night staring at her pictures, reading her captions, trying to picture her voice.
Over and over the question rang out in my head: why are you better than me?
This time, she was dressed like she was when I’d first seen her, in a tiny tank top and shorts. This time, though, instead of heading toward Oceanside, she drove toward downtown Crestview. The small, rundown town square boasted very few businesses, but she pulled up in front of a small beauty shop, and climbed from her car.
I slowed to a stop in the parking lot across from her, watching to see what was going to happen. The windows were tinted, but I could see her frame as she flitted across the room, taking a seat beside a woman already waiting. She didn’t speak to anyone, from what I could see, so I assumed they must know her there.
The shop, Sassy Snips, was small and white, with large, pink letters painted on the front windows. There was a painted picture of a pair of scissors beside the name. I dialed the number printed on the door and waited.
“Sassy Snips, this is Carolyn.” A loud, friendly voice answered the phone with laughter in her tone. Almost as if I’d caught her midway through a joke.
I cleared my throat. “Hi, um, I was wondering if you require appointments or if you take walk-ins.”
“Oh, no, hun. We take walk-ins.”
“Oh, excellent. Thank you.” I pressed the button, ending the call without saying goodbye, and stepped out of the car. When I walked into the building, I smelled bleach, masked by a floral shampoo. It was quaint and simple, concrete floors and large, bright can lights in the ceiling. There were three seats along each exterior wall and six shampoo stations in the center, back to back.
“Hi, hun, can I help you?” A blonde woman looked up from an elderly man’s haircut, scissors held at the ready.
“I…I don’t have an appointment. I just wanted to get a trim.” I twisted a piece of my auburn hair around my fingers.
“Were you the one who just called?”
I nodded.
“You got here fast, sweetie.” She laughed. “We can definitely fit you in. If you’ll just sign in down there.” She gestured toward a clipboard on the edge of a small desk. “I’ll get you going right after this.”
“Thank you,” I said, walking to the desk. Katie was against the back wall, her hair clipped at odd angles as the plump brunette stood behind her, stirring her hair dye in a small, black bowl. “You know, actually, would you have time for some highlights?” I looked back at the woman—Carolyn, I guessed.
She squinted her eyes, glancing at the clock, then leaned her head to the side and yelled across the room. “What do you think, Tosh? Do you have time for highlights? What time’s your next appointment?”
The brunette—Tosh—glanced at the clock, turning around to look at me. “Sure. As long as you don’t mind that I rotate between you and Kat?” I shook my head. I didn’t mind a bit. She jutted her head toward the chair, willing me to take a seat, but I wasn’t looking. Instead, my eyes were locked on the woman in the chair. Katie…or, well, Kat. Her small, brown eyes were locked with mine in the reflection, her mouth tight with apparent displeasure. Obviously she wasn’t in the mood to share hairdressers.
It was fine. I wasn’t in the mood to share husbands.
I offered a small smile before making my way across the room and taking a seat in the salon chair directly beside Kat.
Tosh smiled at me. “I’m Toshia. Have you ever been here before?”
“Palmer,” I told her, reaching out to shake her gloved hand. “And no. I haven’t.”
“New in town?”
“No, just…just in town for work,” I said quickly.
Toshia didn’t look convinced. She turned her attention back to start on Kat’s hair, painting some of the bleach on her dark roots and wrapping them in foil.
“We don’t get many people here for work, but I’m glad you stopped in. What are we going to do for you, Palmer?”
“I was thinking maybe just a few highlights. I…wanted a change.” Kat was still staring at me, her eyes drilling holes in me through the reflection. Did she recognize me? Was she thinking I looked familiar? Had she stalked Ben’s social media and seen his pictures of me? Heard my name? “I love that color,” I told her.
“Thanks,” Kat said softly, bobbing her head. She seemed to be a strange mix of annoyed and paralyzed by fear, and I couldn’t deny that I felt the same, with just a dash of determination.
“Are you both…from here?” I asked.
Toshia nodded, with a quick laugh under her breath. “Born and raised. I’ve been doing Kat’s hair since she was a baby.”
“How nice.”
“Where are you from, Palmer?” Kat asked, one brow raised slightly.
“I live in Oceanside.”
“The big city, hm?” Toshia asked. “My husband and I love Oceanside. Do you know Sarah Allen? She’s from there.”
“No…I don’t think I do.” I played with my nails as Toshia continued to paint the highlights onto Kat’s hair. It was mesmerizing, watching the white paste be smoothed over the dark roots. I tried to focus on that when it got to be too hard focusing on Kat’s denial-filled gaze.
“I guess it’s different there, hm? Everyone here knows everyone. Isn’t that right, Kat?”
Kat nodded, glancing down at her phone. “Just about.”
“What do you do, Kat?” I asked, trying to draw her attention back to me.
She shrugged a shoulder, not looking back up. “Nothing. My husband works.”
Toshia blew air from her lips, popping her hip. “Oh, don’t be so modest, Kat. Kat here’s a successful food and travel blogger. They actually pay her to go on vacation. Can you believe that?”
Kat placed her phone in her lap and met Toshia’s gaze, still avoiding mine at whatever cost. “Well, no one pays me to go on vacation. It’s actually more of a free vacation for exposure on my blog. And…ads are where my income comes from. That’s what I get paid for.”
Toshia rolled her eyes. “Logistics. The point is…this girl’s living the dream.”
And trying to steal mine. “That sounds amazing. And you said you’re married? What does your husband do?”
“He works on the railroad,” came her clipped answer as she looked down.
Surprisingly, we had a connection there. “My uncle worked on the railroad. It’s a hard job, but he loved it.”