Chapter One…
Friday morning, I headed for my favorite café—the meeting place for my big date later in the evening. Not only do I love the quaintness of the place, but my best friend owns my beloved Cafélicious. As I stepped through the glass front door I was instantly hit with a multitude of words by Vixen, one of my favorite servers. That is not her real name but a nickname given to her by Saylor, the head barista and accounting genius—her real name is Veronica, but we have stopped using her given name.
“Vivienne, I need a hair appointment stat. I’m going to a romance author signing. I’ve been on a waiting list. They had cancellations. And I’m even going with VIP status. Oh my God, so exciting!”
My eyes were attempting to focus and my brain was almost able to compute every syllable she rattled off, but I really needed a blasting jolt to kick me fully into gear. “Please ply me with a spicy latte before you have me saving the day, Vixen.” My voice was a bit weak.
“Vivi, I understand your pain, I got in this morning when she first got the news. My ears are still ringing,” Chef Vin said, just missing a swat to his nice round butt from a towel in Vixen’s hand as he walked from the coffee bar to his kitchen where he made me the best sandwiches, ever. Yum!
“Mocha or vanilla?” she asked, shaking her head as I sat down.
“Vanilla with a hit of caramel.” I always liked it spicy, but I varied my flavor base. The most important part was that I must have my coffee. Do not stop or go or pass go… however that saying goes, but for certain I did not start my morning or move ahead without a piping hot, highly caffeinated cup of java in my possession.
And I can say without a doubt I absolutely adore her and her spunk. She is the nicest person ever. I felt bad for her having to deal with a ton of shit her ex-husband kept dishing out. Thank goodness for her la la fantasy world—she seemed to always have her nose in some romance novel when not tending to her child or working at the café.
Finally securing a bowl of spicy goodness, I gave Vixen my full attention while I sat at my usual table, when I had time. “Who are your favorite authors?”
I watched as glee spread all over her face. “Mainly indie contemporary romance authors. They write some steamy stuff, and often. Raine Roubaix is probably my favorite female author and then I love a male author named Rex Holden. Recently, he has teamed up with a new author Kitten Tomsin and I hear she may show up as a surprise—a rumor in book world.”
I had to laugh at the idea of Book World like it was in its own la la galaxy… Ha! And the author names—really?! Where do they come up with them?
“Kitten? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, I’m not. You should hear some pen names… but these two are so good together! Suspenseful stories mixed with naughty romance.”
As I listened to a few plots, I sipped and sniffed the heavenly aroma wafting up into my nostrils and I wasn’t certain in that moment what I enjoyed more—the smell or the taste. I just know that I am totally addicted and I blame my addiction completely on my lifelong friend, Pansie. She got me hooked on the evil stuff when she started working as a part-time barista when she was in college. But it was truly my fault that she opened her own café a few doors down from the full service beauty salon I purchased from my boss about six years ago. We were never far from each other or from Marzi, her cousin, who often joined in on our fun schemes growing up.
While Marzi skipped off to culinary school in the LA area, Pansie and I headed to a local community college. Pansie loved it immediately and even submitted applications to transfer to a four-year university not too far away. I made it through one semester and realized that general education wasn’t for me. Fortunately, I did find something that sounded interesting in the school’s catalog as I took one last look—cosmetology school. I have always been interested in the latest trends in clothing, hair and makeup thanks to my gospel truth celebrity magazines. “So why not do something that interests you,” I said to myself. And while I was still not certain of what I’d like to do in the world of beauty—esthetician, manicurist or hairstylist—I enrolled for a full cosmetology license. I figured it couldn’t hurt to learn it all.
What an eye opener it turned out to be and oh so much fun! I started out with a long California beachy blonde hair look and after a million different lengths and colors, I found my look. A lob (long bob) cut with staggered layers in shades of platinum blonde and pink—I had my style before it became the norm. People for years have gawked at me and pointed fingers, I just smiled and sometimes waved. Once the color trends hit it big and everyone wanted unnatural shades, people began to suggest that I change my streaks to different colors from time to time. I just thank them for their advice and keep my signature pale pink.
After I logged all of my course hours and passed the state exam, I decided to specialize in hair and went to work at my current salon then called Curls and Waves. I instantly loved it; cutting, weaving, dying, blow drying hair all day long while listening to gossip and whatnot. Not to be forgotten, the pay was excellent and tips—those were the best! I found myself running off every Friday night, pay day, to purchase a new outfit to go out clubbing. I even had the girls in the clothing shops cut the tags off so I could walk right out the door a new person.
Then six years ago, the bottom threatened to fall out from under me when the owner of the salon decided to close the doors due to personal problems. I wanted to cry, to shout “no,” but instead, I bought the place from her. I had savings that enabled me to put half of the money down and then a payment plan took care of the rest—one year to go. Having my own business proved to be even better than I had imagined. And to make it my own, I gave the shop an enhanced makeover and changed the name to Salon Luxe. I almost named it Salon Pixie as an ode to how I was able to purchase the beauty shop in the first place.
When I was an infant, my mother was approached in a grocery store and given a business card for a modeling agency. She was thrilled that someone had noticed my beauty right away, but she wanted me to wait a couple of years before she introduced me to her own agent. As a teen and into her early twenties, my mother had been a very popular catalogue model—it was even how she met my father. So I guess I was destined to grace the full-color pages of various catalogues all over the world right from a local studio. My mother refused to uproot me and travel. From her own experience and having me work with her old agency, she knew it could be done and my father agreed as long as I maintained a normal life.
My mother did transform me into the girl with the pixie haircut and signature barrette to hold my barely-there bangs in place—a look stolen from my mother. She had brought the Twiggy-look and decided to reinvent the trend on me. Agents loved it as I grew to hate that damn pixie cut, but thanks to it for giving me my very own business where I worked as a beauty engineer—sounds better than a hairdresser, to me.
Life was good! Well, at least my business life was good. My love life was in the dumps. Actually it didn’t even exist and I was sure that if not for my battery operated friend, I’d have cobwebs growing downstairs—if you know what I mean. However, it was possibly going to change as I was about to embark into a new territory, blind dating. No idea who the person was other than reading his profile, a computer generated man. How bad could it be? I was terrible at dating and tired of the whole bar-dancing-one-nighter routine. I had given that up over six months ago and it was fine, but I was feeling the need to meet someone. So I started looking into online dating sites since they were being suggested to me everywhere I turned; online, on TV, on satellite radio, and in person.
It seemed that there were a lot of them, from hookup sites online to religious ones and beyond. Even meet and greet phone apps. But one in particular had caught my eye a few weeks before I finally committed to a live date. It is a computer generated old fashion style blind dating service that doesn’t allow messaging or photos to be posted. You input your data and it tells you over and over to be honest to attain your best match. You don’t even swipe left or right over profiles. It just gives you five people you are most compatible with and it suggests that you try number one first and then go from there. So I did just that and gave a set location with a few different times and dates. Then once a date was set I was given an emergency number to call if I needed to cancel at the last minute—apparently, it goes immediately to your date.
Ready for my first blind date, or actually not, and afraid of what might be waiting for me after work at Cafélicious—my safe ground for dating—I opted to get a little help from the girls. Hence, the reason I was sitting and drinking my spicy hot deliciousness rather than grabbing a to-go cup as I usually did first thing in the morning.
“Here to plan your cheating strategy?” Marzi inquired as she came out from her kitchen with a sinfully good looking flakey pastry. If I knew her well, it had melted dark chocolate inside and was for me.
“Well…” I couldn’t lie, they knew me too well. “Yes.”
“I think it would be more romantic if you didn’t ask Pansie to signal you after giving him a once over from top to bottom. Imagine the stories you could tell your children.” Vixen, of course, had her opinion based on her choice of literature.
“You did sign up for a blind dating service. You’re kind of defeating the purpose and it’s kind of cheating the system.” Evie surprised me. I didn’t think she would say anything since I had caught her slinging drinks at a bar one night and she said don’t mention it to Pansie. Which I did not, even though Pansie is my good friend, and only because Evie wasn’t hurting anyone by working in two different places.
Pansie, thankfully, did have my back. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with a peek but I think you still have to go through with it. You’ll just be able to prepare your excuse to leave early if you know ahead of time that he is a no go.”
“And that my dear girls is what true friendship is all about,” I said with a smile, lifting my nearly empty bowl of caffeine in Pansie’s direction. “So here are my desired alerts; if he looks good send me a text Laced with Spice and if not a good match in your eyes—knowing my standards—send me a text Out of Coffee.”
“You do know looks can totally be deceiving. A gorgeous man can be a total and complete asshole.” I had a feeling I knew exactly whom Saylor was referring to and I was sure that she had a little thing for him as much as he did for her, despite his alpha behavior.
“That is the only way I am following through, like it or not ladies. You’re either with me or getting fucked up haircuts the next time you come into my salon.” It was amazing how quickly they agreed to help me out… not that I would ever ruin my beauty engineer status for any man. I had a professional reputation to uphold.
With everything set—Pansie had his name, a table reserved, and was ready to text—I took a second cup of coffee to go with me to work. All day long I was in a great mood and I took it out on my clients—making everyone look fantastic. Then once I pushed my last one out of my chair, I rushed home to get dolled up. Outfitted in a sexy—yet sophisticated—light taupe, bodycon dress with a lace look to it paired with a pair of high, strappy sandals in the perfect shade of nude, a hired car deposited me on the curb just outside of Cafélicious.