saying that, but I mean it. I was so nervous coming in here. I wouldn’t ever… You know? I just, you made me feel so comfortable and I appreciate that.”
“It’s no problem. Tell him I said hi and we’re even now.”
I start toward the door, then turn back. “You know Rick?”
She sighs. “Yes, I owed him a favor. I think everyone in town owes him favors. He did some jobs for the store a long time ago, before he went to work for the fancy law firm. We tried to pay him, but he just said, ‘Nope, one day I’ll need a favor. Until then, we’re good.’”
It sounds so much like Rick. No wonder.
“Okay, well thank you again.” As I walk through the door, my mind goes to bad places. Did Rick sleep with her? Did they date and that’s how he ended up working for them?
Where in the world is this coming from? Oh my gosh, am I jealous right now? I don’t know if I’ve ever been jealous of another woman over a hypothetical thing that probably never happened, but my hackles rise a little. I think I am jealous. This man is making me insane. Part of me is proud this is happening. Strangely, it makes me feel kind of normal.
The jealousy quickly passes as our driver hurries out to meet me. He gives me a quick double take, like he wants to comment on my appearance, but decides not to.
Instead, he just gives me a thumbs up, and it makes me smile even more.
He opens the back door and says, “One more stop, right up the road.”
We head out onto the road, and he makes a left on Chicago Avenue and pulls up a few blocks down. We do the whole charade again; him leading me to a door.
This time it’s Arsova Salon. The place is sleek and modern. There’s a team of three people who greet me by name at the door. They lead me through, and the driver doesn’t even bother to tell me he’s waiting, he just gives me another thumbs up and gestures to the car. They lead me to a room, and I change into a robe, then come back out to the whole team of them waiting for me.
It’s about an hour of heaven. They ask me what I like. I say, “I don’t know.”
They show me pictures and I point to one that looks gorgeous, and they go to work, doing what they do.
I like the wavy look, even though I don’t know what you call it. They all start conversing about things I don’t understand because I know nothing about hair styles. But before long there are curlers and blow dryers, someone is trimming with scissors. Truth-be-told, I picked something out a long time ago at the salon down the road from my apartment, the cheap one, and she knows what it is every time I go in. I’m thinking this will look a little different, considering I can’t remember the last time my hair was curled.
A while later, they start taking things out of my hair, and spraying me with some product that smells amazing. Usually, hair spray makes me gag.
When they clear out of the way, they have me look in the mirror, and wow. I literally look just like the hair in the picture I chose. I look like I could be heading to the red carpet for a movie premier.
I head back to the changing room and put the dress back on. When I walk out, they all gush over me.
I thank all of them a million times, and they’re all so nice and full of smiles and compliments. The driver meets me at the door and takes me to the limousine, and I pray the next stop is wherever Rick is, because I just want to see him now. I want him to touch me. I want to see how he reacts when he sees me.
The next stop is the Waldorf Astoria, and butterflies take over not just in my stomach, but my entire body.
The driver gets out and opens the door for me.
As soon as I step out, I stop and turn to him. “I am so sorry. I haven’t even asked your name.”
He grins. “It’s no problem, ma’am. And my name is Don.”
Don leads me up to the hotel entrance.
A concierge is waiting at the door with a smile.
I stop and turn to Don. “Thank you so much, Don. I’m sure