model from Oliver is a voice command unit, like Kirsten’s boombox bot.
“That little bugger giving you trouble?” I ask Tina.
She straightens and leans against the trolley-bot who seems to be pressing at the back of her legs. “No, no. This thing is fine. It’s just…” Tina’s talking trails off and she frowns deeply. “Never mind, Emily. You need your bridal hair examples done today, right?”
I nod, but I too am frowning immensely at the buzzing bot behind her. She’s pushing it back while walking in reverse. “Umm… Stacy will be doing your updos today, Emily.” Tina looks nervous, then, she turns and places her hands onto the persistent robot. “I just (grunt) have some work to do in the (grunt, push, strain against the machine) office!”
She finally gets her last word out before managing to shove herself and the bot away.
Well, this is a bummer. I don’t know why Tina can’t just admit to me that her trolley-bot is a walking disaster area of a machine. Or should I say a floating disaster area? Because that’s what these robots are and I just wish everyone who’s been duped into having one off Oliver would get a clue. Returning the crazy devices to their inventor really would be the best thing to do for everyone involved. Mainly me, as they seem to malfunction around my personage most of the time.
I really wanted it to be Tina doing my sample wedding hairdos. I’d gone through bridal magazine after bridal magazine with her last month. She’s the only one who knows which styles I want for my blonde hair.
“Hhuuuuhhhh,” sighing loudly in exasperation I plonk back down onto the sofa. I have to stand right back up again when Stacy enters the waiting area of the salon.
“Hello, Emily,” she says, pulling her own blonde hair into a ponytail and securing it with a scrunchy. “Tina showed me the magazine pics you chose for your bridal hair. Shall we get this on you?”
Reaching towards the wall hook, Stacy pulls down a black smock and holds it open for me to put on. I move forward and shove my arm through the flowy fabric while turning on my heel. As I’m yanking on the other arm of the smock, the digital bell over the front door chimes.
I glance up to see Thomas entering the salon.
“Why you little pest.” I hiss. “What the hell are you doing here?” I move forward so fast the cover-all cloth I’m now wearing billows out behind me. “Now you listen to me…” I’m about to add the term ‘brat’ to the end of my sentence, when I stop myself for civilised reasons. “I know you’re stalking me and even though I don’t know why, I want you to stop!” I jab a stabby finger into the blonde kid’s chest.
“I’m not stalking you.” Thomas doesn’t even flinch. “I’m just here to umm… I’m here to give Stacy a lift home.”
“You what?” Turning fully around I look at Stacy. “You know this child?”
Ping ring!
She shakes her head. “No I don’t know who that was, and I don’t know how he knew my name.”
What does she mean, who that was?
Turning back round I can see that Thomas has gone. I realise I hadn’t noticed the sound of the door chime pinging when he’d exited the salon.
***
I’m sat in the salon chair now. Stacy is standing behind me and we’re both looking at each other in the mirror.
“Who was that cute but creepy guy?” Stacy asks me.
Cute? Really? “I don’t know,” I reply, looking at her in the mirror reflection. “He’s been following me around for ages and I’m beyond tired of it.”
“I wouldn’t mind having a stalker.” Stacy drags her hands through my hair and I have a feeling her mind is elsewhere. “That would be a guy who you’d know proper liked you, right?”
My facial expression of —jaw wide open in the mirror’s reflection— shows I’m aghast at her statement. “Um no, I don’t think so.” I really don’t know how else to answer her question. It’s mind boggling that she even asked me it in the first place. I bet she wouldn’t ask an A-List celebrity a question like that. Especially not someone famous who’s been to court over some creepazoid stalker climbing into their bedroom window and trying on their underwear, or something.
“So,” I say, changing the subject back to the matter of hair at hand. “Did you say Tina showed you the updos I’d like to try?”
Stacy nods. “Course