by A. Lynn
“That sucks, but on the inside, I'm fist-pumping and screaming ‘Sweet!’. It is just good to know that I won’t be alone in the newness,” I say with a shrug. Seeing the error in my comment, I mentally high five my face and correct myself by saying, “If I get the job, I mean.”
“Okay, let’s get this interview started. Marley will join us when she is done with her appointment.”
“Sounds good.”
“Right this way,” Stella says as we make our way to a room at the back of the salon.
Looking around the room, I take in how big it is. There is a massive desk along one wall with comfy looking chairs and a separate seating area in the corner of the opposite wall with an L-shaped black leather couch and two black armchairs.
“Have a seat,” she says and she takes the power position behind the desk and reaches for something out drawer. She slides a piece of paper in front of me and watches as I bend to read it. I glance up to meet her stoic gaze. An N.D.A? What the hell would I need that for? I work with hair, not for some tech mogul or the government for crying out loud!
The sight of my confused faced breaks through Stella’s stoic facade, and she smiles. Smiles… nothing else. Trying to temper the irritation that I feel rising, I take a deep breath and ask, “An N.D.A.? Did I miss something?”
“Tell me something, Reagan, what exactly do you know about Infinite Salon?”
“I know that it is the number one salon in Wickenburg and probably the majority of Phoenix, too. That you offer more services than any other salon in town and my skills can flourish here and perhaps allow me to cultivate new ones? The business acumen possessed by you and Mrs. Carter is unparalleled since opening in 1980. But maybe not enough,” I state with a nervous chuckle.
“Reagan, relax. It isn’t anything bad, just a way for us to cover our interests,” she says. At my remaining hesitance, she sighs and says, “I know you have questions—more now, I’m sure—but I can’t answer them without your signature on that form. It’s just how we operate and without an N.D.A., it all stops now and I’m sorry to say that there will be no position here for you.”
I want this job really bad… I’ve never seen myself working anywhere else, so I do the only thing I can. I sign the damn thing. Just then the door opens and a stunning woman with jet black hair and blue eyes walks into the office.
“Hi, you must be Reagan, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Marley.”
I stand to shake her hand saying, “You, too.”
She looks at the paper in front of me and says, “Good, I’m right on time.”
Stella looks to Marley, and upon receiving a nod, Marley says, “The position is yours if you wish to accept it. When we checked your references, we received nothing but extremely glowing praises for your work and attention to detail. Taking into considerations your skill set and your willingness to fill in where needed—but only if available—we would like to offer you a very generous salary of—.”
“This is to be considered a part of the N.D.A.,” Stella interjects.
Marley huffs and says, “As I was saying, we would like to offer you a very generous salary of a flat monthly wage of four thousand dollars before taxes and a thirty percent commission plus tips.”
“Wow, that is very generous. But what do you mean exactly when you said 'willingness to fill in where needed?"
It’s Stella who speaks this time. “Well, on your resume you listed your skills as being: cut, color, makeup/style, and nail stations. Correct?”
“Yes, ma—Stella, that is correct."
“Well, that kind of makes you a unicorn here in light of the last few weeks. That you could work any and every station if need be, except for Marley’s, makes you valuable to us and our salon. Your main focus is to be next to me because you and I are the only two who do color as well as cuts,” Stella says.
“Oh, okay. That sounds fine to me.”
“We stay pretty busy and we like to have at least one or two spares per station, and with any luck, these reserves will be satisfied by the end of next week,” Marley says. “And your willingness to fill in would just be our last resort. You will remain busy when you are here and we would hate to take you away from your family on your days off.”
“When would you like for me to start?”
“Since it is Friday,” Marley says. “How about Monday?”
“That sounds wonderful.”
Stella asks, “Do you have a family at home?”
“I do, my roommate and I share a child, Jordan. He just turned three.”
“Yeah, that's great! I bet he is a looker if he takes after his Moma," Marley says at the same time Stella says, “Oh?”
“He definitely does look like her. Ryan and I have been thick as thieves since we were young kids. So, when Ryan got pregnant with Jordan, we decided to take the journey together. There was no father in the picture and I didn’t want her to do it alone. It was also to ensure that if something were to ever happen to Ryan, Jordan would not end up in foster care. So, I adopted him. I have no family left and she was raised in the foster care system, so we made our own. It would have gone that way anyway, it’s just legally recognized now.”
“Good for you. You guys are lucky to have each other,” Stella says with a small smile. “Now, what do you know about The Unstaintly Kings MC?”
Umm… what now?
“Hey, Ms. Buckler, thanks for keeping little man for us,” I say as I watch Jordan rush into her arms.
“There is no one I would rather spend my night with more than him,” she says adoringly.
“I know, I just hate that it was so last minute. I asked Ry to call you yesterday,” I huff in irritation at Ryan’s lack of consideration for the woman she considers her mother.
“It isn't a big deal, Rea. I'm always glad to have him."
“I know you do, but that’s not the point.”
“I know it isn’t, but it doesn’t change the outcome.”
“You are too good to us, Ms. Buckler.”
“Reagan Marks! Ms. Buckler was my ex-mother-in-law and we all know that shi—crap was done and over with more than ten years ago. I have a lovely name, it’s Sasha. Use it,” she says with a scowl.
“I don’t know, Ms. Buckler!” I say with a screech when she swats at my ass. “I don’t think grams would like it.”
“Kiss-kiss, Wea. I’s woves you’s.” Never fails to make me melt.
“I love you, J. Hugs?" He nods with a smile and proceeds to squeeze the life out of me. "Be good for Mimi, okay?"
“I’s am! Mimi say,” he demands in exacerbation while pointing at me.
“He’s the best boy, Rea,” Sasha says.
“I’s bess boy, Wea!”
“I know! Be extra good and we will get pancakes after we pick you up in the morning.”
“Yay! Panpakes! You’s go now.”
After dropping Jordan at Sasha's house I make the five-minute walk home to find Ryan already pre-gaming in my room since she was already dressed and ready to go. "Couldn't wait for me, bitch?"
“I made your ass one.”
“Hold on, I’m going to take a quick shower and shave," I say while stripping on the way to the en suite.
After what feels like the shortest shower known to man, I am back in front of my mirror to apply my face and flat iron any kinks in my hair. I’m keeping my makeup light because I sweat too much in the club and anything extravagant is pointless for me. By the end of the night, I would be walking out of the club looking like Harley Quinn. And not many can pull off the smudged look the way Goddess Margot Robbie can. So less is more, right?
I’m slipping into a little-black-dress that hugs my curves like a second skin with three-quarter length sleeves that are slit from elbow to shoulder when Ryan feels the need to ask, yet again, “For real Rea, why would you need to sign an N.D.A. to work at a salon? And if one is required, do you really want to work there?”
“Ry,” I sigh, “I already told you all that I know and that I am
allowed to say. I will be bringing home four thousand dollars a month and a thirty percent commission plus tip. The only other thing that I know is that the salon is owned by Stella Greene and Marley Carter, but it is also one of the many businesses that are tied to The Unsaintly King Motorcycle Club because Stella and Marley’s husbands are members. That’s all I got. I know nothing else. I will speculate that I think it is in case of the club’s world merging into the salon. But again, that is just speculation. And why wouldn’t I want to work there? It’s the best salon around here and the money just makes it that much sweeter.”
“Sure, Rea, whatever," she says, giving me side-eye with pursed lips.
“Why the hell are you looking at me like I’m holding out on you?” I’m starting to get salty now, so with no fucks given I say, “I’m not the one who is keeping secrets in this relationship.”
She has a contrite look on her face when she says, “That’s harsh, Rea.”
“I know and I’m sorry, but that doesn’t make it any less true," I say as I squeeze her hand. I wouldn’t think that the father of our son would be a cause for secrets. He doesn’t want to be a part of this? Fine, we don’t need him. I just want to know who it is.
“I know, but I’m not ready,” she whispers. Can we just go?”
“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” I say. “Will you order a cab while I grab my shoes?”
“Yeah,” she says, walking out of the room. The way she says it makes me look at her and wonder if she’s still upset.
I sit in the chair by the closet to put on my red leather peep-toe ankle boots. I stay upstairs and drink my Amaretto sour to give her a little space to cool down. I wonder—and not for the first time either—If she got pregnant through sexual assault. She claims that it wasn’t, but that is the only reason I can think of as for why she isn’t telling me. Unless she doesn’t know the guy’s name? Like a drunken one night stand or something? But even still I don’t understand the secrecy.
It isn’t long before she yells that the cab is here. When I get downstairs, her lips are still pursed as we walk out the door and we make our way to the cab. I try to catch her eye to smile at her but she isn’t having it, so I give up and climb into the cab.
When I shut the door the cabby asks, “Where to, ladies?”
“Fallen Nightclub, please,” I reply.
Fallen is our favorite spot. It used to be a shoe factory when I was a girl, but about five years ago someone bought it and turned it into the oasis that Ryan and I have chosen to spend our time in when we find ourselves kid-less. I would say it has between ten and fifteen thousand square feet that is divided by a glass wall. Each side of the club has its own music as well. On the one side is the club with any music that will cater to high-energy dancing, like pop and techno. While on the other side there is a traditional bar that rarely plays anything without “rock” in the genre category. The only musical overlapping on the two sides comes from alternative music. Booths, tables and chairs, pool tables, and dartboards cover the bar floor and walls until it reaches the VIP area stretching along the whole back of the building, and a ceiling that is lower than the exterior indicates, so I assume there are offices and the like upstairs.
“Sure thing,” he says as he pulls away from the curb.
Turning to Ryan, I ask, “We good?”
“Of course,” she says. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
“I don’t know. This,” I motion between us, “seems strained.”
“I’m just nervous…” she says.
“What are you nervous about? We’re just going to a club to let loose while we have a sitter.”
“Okay, full disclosure,” she says making me raise my eyebrows. “This new guy at work—Cooper Jameson—asked me out before you said you wanted to go out tonight. I canceled with him because... well you know, biffle comes first.”
“Okay, so why are you nervous, then?”
“Because he said that he wasn’t going to reschedule and that he would meet me at Fallen,” she says.
I look at her a bit confused. “Are you nervous because he wouldn’t take no for an answer? Or did you think I would be upset?” Then it clicks, “Oh, you want to hang with him, instead.”
“I think it is a mixture,” she said.
“Okay, one: don't let a man railroad you that way, that's some bullshit. Two: as you said, we're biffles, so I'm not going to get mad because I ruined your plans, and as much I enjoy hanging out with you, I don't necessarily need you for me to dance and have some drinks. Wickenburg is not that big, there are bound to be people I know here. Three: go hang with your date, I promise it is alright. Make sure you are home in the morning though. I told J we would celebrate with some pancakes."
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I mean we do live together. I’m starting to get tired of seeing your face,” I push her shoulder and smirk.
She pushes me with a smile and says, “Love you, bitch.”
“Love you back, hooker.”
When the cab stops in front of Fallen, I open the door and step out as the driver says, “Take my card and call when you are ready to go home and I will pick you all up.”
“Umm...sure, thanks,” I reply.
“No worries. Have a good night, ladies,” he says before pulling away from the curb.
When the cab is out of sight I turn to Ryan and ask, “Did that make you as uncomfortable as it made me? Seriously gave me a bad feeling.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Creeper,” I mumble.
“Enough about him, I need a drink. Or ten,” she laughs.
“You and me both,” I say on my way to the door.
Chapter 2
Reagan
With a drink in my hand and my biffle by my side, I make my way to the dance floor to get on with part two of our celebration. By the end of the third song, my drink is gone and I am so hot I need a breather. There are so many people in here that the air is thin and hot—it feels like the desert, midday in July.
“I need a break,” I yell towards Ryan’s ear. She must hear me because she nods while grabbing my hand and heads to the bar.
The volume is getting moderately lower the closer we get to the bar, where I have no trouble hearing Ryan when she says, “Fuck, it is so hot in there.”
“I know right. I think I already sweat out my first drink.”
“We should grab extra drinks and go find a table.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, following behind her to the bar.
“Hey, ladies,” Harley says when she sees us.
“Hey, Harley! I didn’t think that you were on tonight,” I say. “We looked for you when we first got here.”
“I’ve been here all night. Only left my spot to deliver a cupcake to a friend of mine in VIP. It’s her birthday.”
“Aw, Harley, you’re too sweet,” Ry says. “We happen to be celebrating tonight, too!”
“Oh really? And what are you out celebrating?”
“Reagan was offered a job over at Infinite Salon and Spa,” Ry tells her.
“That’s great, Rea! When do you start?”
“Monday. I’m pretty excited!” I’m smiling so big that my cheeks hurt.
“I bet,” she says. “What can I get for you ladies?”
“Two Amaretto sours and two bottles of water, please,” Ryan orders.
“Coming right up.”
I turn to check out the seating situation—it's not as packed on this side—when I make eye contact with a gorgeous man standing at the pool tables. It's like I'm paralyzed, I cannot force my eyes away from him. He doesn't seem in a hurry to break it either. I am jolted from our staring contest, that he won when Ryan elbows me in the side. Bitch. I hate losing, even when I’m the only one playing.
“Here, Rea,” Ryan says, handing me my drinks.
“Sorry. How much, Harley?”
“They’re on me. Congratulations on the job.”
“Thanks, Harley, but you don’t
have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to, but I wanted to.” This girl.
“Thanks, girl,” I smile sweetly.
When I turn back around to get another look at the man, I feel disappointed to not see him anywhere. Then irritated for being disappointed, it’s not like I know him or anything. Get it together, Reagan.
When we sit at a table in the middle of the room, I begin my low-key interrogation of Ryan. “So… tell me about Cooper. That’s his name, right?”
“Yes, Cooper Jameson,” she says with a snarky side-eye that makes me giggle. "He has been at the bank for the last couple of months. He’s tall—like over six feet—with dirty blond hair and blue eyes that remind me of the sky. He’s really cute and has an amazing smile. He makes me laugh, Rea. I could easily see him being a part of our family.”
Wait… did she just say what I think she said? I must be getting close to my alcohol limit… “Whoa, what? A part of our family? What are you talking about, Ry, you just told me that you've only known this man for a couple of months."
“I don’t mean immediately, Rea. Obviously.” This bitch has the nerve to mutter like I’m the one talking out of my ass instead of her.
“Then what did you mean? We have Jordan to think about here.”
“When do I get to think about me? Huh? Shit, Rea, I’m twenty-three and rarely leave the house, unless it’s to go to work. I deserve to be happy, too.”
“Since when are you not happy? We have a great life,” I say with my anger rising.
“All this is coming ou--” she starts to say.
“Ryan?” comes from an unfamiliar voice.
“Hey, Cooper, I was wondering when you were going to get here,” she says all flirty like we were not just in the middle of a serious fucking conversation. “You going to join us?”
“For a few minutes, we have somewhere else to be tonight,” he says with a smile. “Congratulations on the job, Keegan.”