Charlotte

“We’re booked solid for the next month, boss.”

“That’s great… still space for walk-ins, right?”

“Uh yeah, about three hours a day are available.” Danni, my good friend and also manager of my salon, is more excited than me about this revelation. I know walk-ins are supposed to be for people who don’t make appointments, but we give priority to those who schedule and book in advance online because there is a fee. So technically, every day has a separate amount of time for customers measured by the wait time there would be.

“Good, thanks.” I stare at the computer screen in my office, somehow not reading what I see in these expense reports. I need to hire an accountant. It was never my strong suit, but I have done okay for the past four years since opening. I am well beyond my profit margin, the lease is paid out, and the only overhead I have is keeping the salon open and the products I sell. Every day makes a profit, and it was only last year that I broke into a new tax bracket.

“Something wrong?” Danni sits next to me, her freshly done hair has strawberry orange tips, her makeup done up as always over her tawny skin. She does specialty styles as well as makeup. I have yet to find someone else to hire to work with her since her responsibilities as the manager take up so much of her time now.

“No,” I lie. I’m still tired from the Saturday night mixer, and the dump of emotions placed on me then. Mostly, I feel horrible that Lowell thought I was mad at him, or that we weren’t on good terms after he left because I knew, even back then, we were having fun, and guys like him didn’t settle down. And especially, that I had to lie to him, or rather, withhold the truth.

“How are the others?” Giving up, I close out the Excel file and swivel my chair around to face Danni. Her bright orange matching jumpsuit is very perky and not at all like how I am feeling. Looking at it almost gives me a headache—nothing like my dark jeans and faded gray t-shirt.

“Fine. Daren has to leave early, so I pushed his last booking until tomorrow, and Keisha is taking over for the few who couldn’t be moved.”

“Okay. Did he say why?”

“Nope. Probably something personal, though.”

I nod and sigh to myself. All my employees are cordial and professional. I’ve never received any complaints or had any myself. They are all from the original staff save the receptionist I hired two years ago when things got busy.

“I think so, too. So, no one needs anything, right?” I ask, standing as if I might leave. It’s only three o’clock. I don’t have to be at the school until four, and I have been here since nine. Usually, I don’t even come by when it opens, but I couldn’t be alone in the house any longer. I would google the hell out of Lowell and sink myself further into regret because I don’t even know if I mean what I told him. There are too many factors to consider and time that has passed which might make matters worse.

“Nope, all good, boss. Are you sure you don’t need anything?” She peers at me and cracks a smile. I’ve known Danni since our senior year of college. I took a community cosmetology course when I decided I would open a salon, but I’ve never really wanted to do hair. I was all about journalism, and somewhere along the way, I found an entrepreneurial spirit when I dreamed about opening a salon to help everyone feel good about themselves and the little things they could control. Danni has been all about hair, though, and even when we lost touch, she was my first call after I got approved for my loan.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll buy everyone dinner and then head out.” I clip a smile at her and walk out of my office onto the platform overlooking the lower level of the salon, busy with customers, all twelve stations full. The steps are down the back, and I follow them until I reach the receptionist’s desk in front where the entrance overlooks the rest of downtown.

“Hey, Mary. What does everyone eat these days?” I half giggle.

“Anything they don’t have to get themselves.” She laughs. Mary is young, a college student at the city university, who also wants to go into cosmetology one day, but clinical. I think this was a job she could do and not have to take her work home with her. At least that’s what she said in her interview. It was her honesty that made me hire her.

“Right.” I use the iPad on the counter next to her to order from a local restaurant —platters of three main dishes and sides they can help themselves to. I don’t buy dinner all the time, but I’m feeling generous today and would feel less guilty about leaving early.

“Call me if anything comes up,” I tell Mary.

“Don’t burn the place down!” I shout in the doorway to everyone.

“Bye, boss!” They shout back somewhat in order.

The walk to my car is short and with the extra time, I stop and get a smoothie and snacks for the road. I used to be a nervous eater, but when my waistline was threatened, I took to other methods. It wasn’t that I cared so much about how I looked, I didn’t want to keep buying new pants.

When I arrive at the school, I find cars already parked down the road on both sides of the parking lot and car rider lane. I groan to myself and pick a nice spot down at the end. I should have known the Get Active campaign at the school would bring all this. It isn’t a regular field day. Somehow, the school board got athletes to sponsor some of the events, but I knew it was for their gain and not ours. The school doesn’t even make money from it, but the kids have fun and are hopefully encouraged to exercise. It has gone on for a month, and today is the grand finale or whatever where they all come together and pledge winners to get their prizes—one of which is a signed football from one of the ‘surprise players’ they were encouraged to try and get.

On the walk over, I try to think of what Lowell might have done if he knew I kept his daughter a secret from him for the past five years. I barely called and did something even more unthinkable… it’s a time I want to forget about myself and the things I did.

“Ms. Williams, where is Kimberly?” I find her teacher—young, pretty, and very enthusiastic about her job—at the edge of the field in the schoolyard.

“Hi.” She beams, and then her face falls. “She is in the Principal’s office. They were probably about to call you. I sent her up there about five minutes ago.” She seems nervous even to tell me.

“Oh… what did she do?” What did she do now, I should ask because every other month she does something worthy of the Principal’s office. Nothing too big to threaten suspension. But she is like me when I was a kid.

“The usual. Talking up a storm. She has a very lucrative vocabulary.” Ms. Williams almost blushes, and I want to laugh, but I don’t. Kimberly spent a lot of time in the salon outside of school. That must be where she got it.

“Ugh, okay…” I am about to add something when my phone does, in fact, ring with the school number saved. I roll my eyes and excuse myself before I am on my way answering the phone to confirm that’s where she is.

I know which way to go, the air conditioning better than I imagined, and stop behind the second door leading to the seating area outside of her office.

“Hi, Mommy.” Kimberly is cheeky as hell, smiling so much I find it hard to be mad anymore.

But she isn’t alone.