Wedding Haters (Event to Remember Series-Book 2) by Melissa Baldwin Page B

pictures of
some very dramatic color. Stephy has really dark hair, so I’m
hesitant to go this drastic on her especially because I have never
done her hair. I know her well enough that if it’s not exactly what
she is expecting she will let it be known. Now the question is how
do I convince her to do something else?
    “Honestly, Stephy, this is too dramatic for
today. We could gradually get there in a couple appointments. Here
are some other options.” I hand her my iPad with several other
ideas. She looks through them but that doesn’t seem to satisfy
her.
    “Can you get as close to this as possible?”
She points to one of the pictures she brought me. “Unless you just
can’t do it?” She knows that is going to drive me crazy. I hate
when someone questions my skills because I’m great at doing hair,
and I know it.
    “Of course I can do it, but I want you to be
happy with how it turns out. It would be better to start gradually
and work to this.” I think she’s actually considering that I may
know what I’m talking about. Although I’m still curious to know why
she came to me today out of the blue.
    “So, what happened to your regular stylist?
You’ve never come to see me before. Not that I mind, it’s really
nice of you to come in.” I put her on the spot because I have
nothing to lose by just being honest.
    “Oh, Federico is wonderful. He went on a
holiday around the world. Won’t return for several months. I miss
him dearly. Anyhoo, I figured why not give you a chance to do my
hair. I’m sure you can use every bit of practice you can get. What
is it that they say, every client is more practice or mastering
your craft or something like that?” Hmmm . . . I give her a forced
fake smile. I’m contemplating “accidentally” chopping off some of
her hair, maybe just on one side. I wonder if I would feel guilty
about it afterward?
    “OK, let’s get to it then.” I try to put that
idea out my head.
    Is this appointment ever going to end? Stephy
has been rambling non-stop about gossip at her job, men she has
been dating, and how she is now on a strict juicing only diet. I
want to tell her that I have no desire to hear another word about
her irritable bowel syndrome and other “private” health issues she
had prior to the juicing. Nor do I care about the “who has slept
with whom” sagas at work. She hasn’t let me get a word in.
    I manage to finish her hair without
completely chopping it off or overprocessing her color. That was
definitely an internal battle of good versus evil. Good ultimately
prevailed, but only so I could keep my spotless reputation
intact.
    “Here you go!” I exclaim proudly as I spin
her chair around to show her my latest masterpiece. “The color
really suits your skin tone.” I did a subtler ombre color than the
pictures she brought in. It’s very similar so she shouldn’t really
notice, or so I thought.
    “Oh. Well, it’s nice but it’s not this
color,” she says as she holds up the picture to her head. “I really
had my heart set on this .”
    “I know, but this is just a slightly darker
shade; we’re working to this.” I point to her picture. “At your
next appointment, we will be able to achieve exactly that. Just
trust me, I have been doing this a long time.” Secretly I’m praying
she won’t come back. She stares at herself in the mirror for what
seems like several minutes. She starts running her fingers through
her hair and swinging her head around. She looks like she’s in a
shampoo commercial. I can tell she’s really starting to like it,
but I doubt she will admit it.
    “Well, I will just have to see.” She gathers
up her stuff, gives me an air kiss, and with that, she is gone.
    After she leaves, I wonder if I just imagined
all of that. Why, after so many years, did she decide to come to
me? Was there some kind of ulterior motive? I shake my head; I
think I’m starting to lose it. I put these crazy thoughts out of my
head and get ready for my