Allie’s eyes flickered over to me, and she cocked her head while listening to my conversation.
“He didn’t come home last night? Do you think he’s okay? Have you checked the hospitals?”
Dani sighed. “No. I’m sure he’s fine. He went out with some friends last night; he probably just crashed at one of their places so he didn’t have to drink and drive. He’ll show up today, he always does. Well,” Dani’s voice suddenly brightened, “I hope you have a great day there. We’ll try to stop in this afternoon and see how everything is going.”
“Oh, okay then. Please call if you need me for anything else, if I can help in any other way,” I stuttered, baffled by the conversation I was having with my boss. “I hope everything is okay.”
We hung up, and I turned to face Allie.
“Good morning, sunshine!” she exclaimed, thrusting a waxy white bag at me. “I brought us bagels.”
“Yum, thank you! I just had a slice of toast for breakfast this morning. Mmm, these are still warm.” I eagerly grabbed a chocolate chip bagel and bit into it, feeling the warm chips melt on my tongue. Bliss. I laughed inwardly at my own play on words.
“What was that phone call all about?” Allie asked, opening a packet of cream cheese.
“I don’t know; it was so strange. Dani was asking if Kevin was here, then she said that he went out with his friends last night and never came home. Is that…normal for around here?” I suddenly flashed back to my facial, when Allie told me that Dani has called looking for her husband at the salon from time to time. And that sometimes Kevin slept on the beds at Blissful instead of going home.
Allie sat on the stool behind the desk, playing with her short black ponytail. “Well, unfortunately, that answer is yes. I’m surprised Dani is starting in with you already. She should have just called my cell phone.”
Goosebumps sprinkled my arms. What did that mean? Was Big Frank right about Kevin? “What do you mean?”
“Well, sometimes things can get a bit tense around here with Dani and Kevin. And of course there are rumors always floating around, but I try not to get involved with that.”
I was practically salivating, and not from my bagel. “Allie, I’m begging you, please tell me what’s going on. I can’t be the manager here without being informed.”
“I’ll tell you what I know, but you have to promise me that you won’t freak out. Or quit.”
“Okay, now you’re scaring me. Just tell me!”
After I begged and pinky-swore I wouldn’t just up and quit, Allie launched into story after story regarding Kevin and Dani. I thought I had gotten some juicy bits from her the day of my facial, but this –– this was so much more.
Allie told me how Kevin had met Dani–– who was sixteen years younger than him –– on one of his magazine photo shoots about nine years ago. Dani was modeling topless, Kevin walked in and saw her, and apparently it was like love at first sight. Except for the tiny detail that Kevin was already married. In fact, the ink was barely dry on his marriage certificate when he started his affair with Dani. He was married for two months and two days before filing for divorce, and the day after it was approved by the courts, he whisked twenty year old Dani off to Mexico and they were married. Nine months later, Brianna was born.
“Two months and two days? Come on, Allie. You have to be exaggerating,” I said, wide-eyed at the story. We made it to the back office, and were waiting for the computer system to get pulled up before we started the payroll training.
“Cross my heart, hon. The poor first wife who married him didn’t stand a chance.”
Allie’s story continued. Kevin was a well-known playboy, who was thought to be settled down after he married Dani and she gave birth to his first daughter. While he was able to keep it his pants for some time, his old ways eventually got the best of him.
“Dani has to know about his affairs. He’s really not that secretive about them. He tells us girls here all the time about sleeping with the strippers in Vegas and Dani’s always calling around looking for him. I think unless she sees it with her own eyes she’ll keep denying it.”
“But why? How can she let him get away with that?”
Allie tapped her ring finger, where her engagement ring sat glowing. “It’s all about the money honey. You’ve seen what Kevin drives. You’ve seen the five-carat rock on Dani’s hand. You can’t tell me you haven’t seen Dani’s humongous fake boobs. I’ve been to their house –– their mansion, rather. Dani wears designer brands. Would you give that lifestyle up?”
Would I? We both fell silent for a minute, while Allie hit a few keys and different spreadsheets started popping up on the screen. Although she had already moved on from the topic of conversation, I couldn’t get her question out of my head. Would I give up that lifestyle? I thought only celebrities like that basketball player’s wife stayed with their man even after their affairs became headline news. Kevin lived in Iowa, ran a few small businesses. Was that level of financial security enough to make someone like Dani stay with him? Could I even marry for love, or were people only looking for a way to succeed? And how could I have looked up to Dani, considered her someone I wanted to be like? The confusion I felt was making me more and more uncomfortable.
“Allie?”
“Yeah, hon?”
“Why are you getting married?”
Allie looked at me, her deep blue eyes open in alarm. “What? Why are you asking that?” She sounded like I was trying to accuse her of something. I quickly backtracked.
“No, no! Sorry if that sounded rude or like I was accusing you for something. I guess, well, I haven’t really ever thought about marriage a whole lot yet, but when I do…I guess I just don’t want to end up that way. Only marrying for money like a Playboy rabbit or something.”
Allie let out a chuckle. “They’re called Playboy bunnies, hon, not rabbits.”
“My bad. But really, I mean, it’s something to think about. I thought people got married for love and because you want to be with someone so badly for the rest of your life. It’s just so strange to think that isn’t true. Maybe I’m just too naïve.”
Allie sat back in the office chair, looking deep in thought. She twirled her engagement ring around her finger a few times as she stayed silent. When she spoke, her words had a surprisingly hard edge to them. “I love Jordan. I do. We’ve been together for five years, and I fell in love with him on the first day. We are getting married next year because we love each other. He might not make the same amount of money Kevin does, but I know he’s a good man. Kind and loving, and someone who will make a terrific father one day. That’s why I’m picking Jordan. I’m picking love.”
We fell silent again, and I absorbed Allie’s words. She was saying great things. Awesome things about her soon to be husband. So why was I getting the feeling that something was off? The tone of her voice, the edge in her eyes, the lack of her usual sparkle and bubble. It almost seemed like she was trying to convince herself, rather than me.
The subject of marriage, or Kevin and Dani, didn’t come up again that morning. We worked on the payroll training, and I learned how to import all the employees’ hours into the spreadsheet and send it off to Houston to get processed. I was taught how to enter new employees, their names and address, bank account numbers and exemptions. Numbers swam in front of my eyes, and my training notebook was filled with my shorthand on tips and tricks to making payroll go as smoothly as possible. Allie showed me how to mark in the dates on the calendar so I knew when the pay period was, when pay day was, when the payroll was due, and when any exemptions needed to be processed by.
By two o’clock, I felt that I was in full-on manager mode. It was one of the first days that I felt in control of the salon. That might have had something to do with Kamille being off that day. She never brought cheerfulness to Blissful and always made me feel that I was stepping on her toes. But I got along with the other employees like a charm. The first staff meeting I had been a part of, I made sure to mak
e everyone aware that I was their manager and that I was capable and knew what I was doing. Was I faking it the whole time and secretly trembling beneath my pencil skirt and Blissful shirt? Of course. But I had read in one of my management books that I checked out in the library that it was important to establish power right from the get-go. Not to come in shy and hesitant and give the employees the opportunity to jump all over you.
So I had walked in on that Monday morning (Dani had changed the time so the meeting was held over my free hour) with my head high, my best skirt on (or Lila’s best skirt) and fabulous pumps (borrowed from Emma). I carried a briefcase that held all sorts of documents–– my employee handbook, a list of all the employees, Blissful information on the hours and services, and even a few school notebooks for if I ever got down time to study at the salon.
Kevin introduced me –– even though I had already met the majority of the employees –– and when he turned the floor over to me, I felt confident and ready. “Thanks, Kevin,” I had said, flashing him my winning smile. “It’s nice to meet everyone, some of you for a second time.” I turned my smile on to my new employees. I had employees. “I’m really excited to begin working here at Blissful. From the wonderful comments I’ve heard in the community” (I hadn’t really heard any, but I frequented college house parties, not lady luncheons), “to the drive and passion that I’ve already seen in so many of you” (that much was true), “I think I will feel right at home here. Kevin asked me to put together a few new marketing strategies, and I’m going to run over them with you quickly.”
On cue, I handed out sheets of paper that outlined a few of my plans, such as up-selling and the goals I implemented that day. “Based on your hours and previous client load, I have put together sales goals that I will be expecting you to meet. These will be monthly goals, and if you successfully hit each goal in a three-month duration, you will receive a monetary bonus.” I had watched the estheticians, massage therapists, hair stylists, and the front desk gals skim over the sheet and the individual index cards that listed their goals. No one said much, but when Kevin piped up in his booming voice about my academia background and professional skills that I had already showcased, I felt a boost of pride. And when a few of the hair stylists came up to me after the meeting to let me know that they appreciated being given a direction and clear cut goal to strive towards, I knew I was on top of my game.
I had rushed back to Wacker to change out of my business clothes and into something more casual for the rest of my day in classes, but when I went to work that night, I put my pencil skirt and heels back on and walked into Blissful ready to show my stuff. I was the manager. I was going to help be a part in making Blissful a successful salon. I had the confidence and the knowledge.
From that day forward, all my fears about being good enough seemed to evaporate. Was it hard work putting together the schedules? Yes. The calendar seemed like a giant jigsaw puzzle at times, with Mary needing these days off, Carolyn only being able to work morning hours, and Twila wanting every other Friday off. When Kevin gave me a deadline to come up with a new advertising design or wanted me to put together a written commentary for a radio ad, did I stress about it and stay up until two in the morning trying to get it finished? Of course. But did I love every second of my new, grown-up life? You better believe it.
So that Saturday, everything was running smoothly in the spa. I was helping man the front desk along with Julia, a sweet high school student who could up-sell better than anyone I had ever seen. Since I implemented the goals to be achieved she had outshined everyone, even though she worked significantly less due to her school schedule.
At least one day a week I liked to be up front at the desk instead of in the office–– which is where I was the majority of the time–– and I had chosen Saturday earlier in the week to be my day. Now I was grateful for that decision, because it kept me busy and kept my mind off constantly glancing at the clock to see if it was closing time yet and time for me to head home to get ready for my date with Henry. The phone calls were steady, the appointments flowed with precision and there were no major emergencies such as the computers crashing and the cash drawer getting stuck (both which had already happened to me on the job). Since it was Saturday, we had a full staff of stylists on board, with Mandy, Lindsey, Katie, Sophia, Jewel, and Carolyn working full shifts. We had four massage therapists kneading clients–– Courtney, Alyssa, Vicki, and Shawna–– and two estheticians on board as well–– Allie and Morgan–– who were embedded in their own hectic schedules filled with facials and peels.
At three o’clock, we hit our busiest hour. Each salon chair was full, all massage therapists were booked, Allie and Shawna were facialing their tails off, and we had a wait list going for late afternoon appointments. I started to worry that I wasn’t going to make it out of there even close to when I wanted. As much as Julia and I were trying to keep everything clean and in order, the sheer volume of clients was making that task impossible.
“Hi, welcome to Blissful! How can I help you?” I greeted a trim brunette as she walked through the door.
“I have an appointment at 3:30 for a massage,” she answered, hoisting her purse up on the counter. “I have this gift card to use as well.”
I took the gift card from her and set it on the computer, opening up the massage therapist’s schedule. “And what’s your name?”
“Clarissa. Clarissa Butley.”
“Okay, Clarissa, I have you all checked in. Since this is your first time here, I’m just going to ask you to take a few minutes and fill out this form. All basic questions, some health questions, and any areas you want Vicki to pay special attention to. Just bring it up to me when you’re finished.”
I flashed Clarissa a smile as she took the clipboard and settled into an empty chair, scribbling on her form. I quickly pressed the check-in button on Clarissa’s name in the computer, which would send out an alert to the back room where the staff could see who had checked in. The system was quite efficient. Instead of me having to call back or walk back to tell them, they could easily tell from their own computer.
The bell jingled again as two young women walked in and approached the desk. They checked in for pedicures, and I sent them to the nail racks to pick out their color. They looked to be in the mid-twenties and sounded like they were in a heated gossip session.
Clarissa came back to the desk with her completed form, which I unhooked from the clipboard and placed in a file folder. “Do you need to use the restroom before you start?” I asked, a standard question for all massage clients. Nothing is worse than lying down for sixty minutes when you have a full bladder. Clarissa declined the offer and was just about to take a seat when Vicki came to the front. I passed off Clarrisa’s folder to her, and the pair disappeared into the salon.
Just as they walked away, another massage client appeared from the back, looking sleepy and relaxed. Julia set to work checking her out while I slipped into the salon part to make sure no one needed me. I noticed some hair on the ground that hadn’t been cleaned up yet, and swiftly took out the big janitor-like mop/broom and got to work. Then I re-aligned the shampoo and conditioner bottles along the back wall and wiped away any excess product that was dripping out. I was just getting ready to head back into the spa section when Mandy, one of the stylists, approached me.
“Hi, Alex. Are you real busy right now?” she asked, intercepting me before I walked through the spa doors.
“No, I’m just trying to keep the place tidy is all,” I answered. “I can’t believe how unorganized it can get–– and so fast!”
“I know. It can be hard to keep up with sometimes. I was wondering maybe if I could speak to you? Privately.”
I studied Mandy’s face, trying to figure out if something was wrong. “Sure thing. Let’s just slip into the back office, okay?”
She nodded and followed silently behind me. I held the spa door open for her to pass through, and we walked through the treatment room section to get to the
office. I sat in the big chair in front of the computer and held my hand out to indicate her to sit in the smaller chair next to the printer.
“What can I do for you, Mandy?” I opened the floor to her, still unable to guess what she needed me for. Mandy was a natural redhead like me, her pale skin sprinkled with freckles and a tall and lean frame. I knew that she was twenty-four and had been working as a stylist in the Des Moines area since she graduated beauty school and came to Blissful with commendable references and also brought a slew of clients with her. I hoped that she wasn’t quitting. She was one of our top sellers and most requested stylist on the floor.
“I’ve had a little problem come up. And I guess I–– I need to talk to someone. And I thought you might listen to me.” Mandy spoke slow and with hesitance, not making eye contact with me.
“Well, sure. You can talk to me anytime. About anything. That’s what I’m here for,” I reassured her, trying to make my voice sound more comforting than authoritative.
“I’ve really enjoyed working at Blissful. I’ve been here almost since it’s opened and have had some great experiences.”
My heart sank. She was going to quit. One of my best employees! How could I make her stay on? My mind started racing with bonuses, more flexible hours, maybe an Employee of the Month system? Make her feel wanted and needed. Actually–– Employee of the Month wouldn’t be a bad idea overall. That could help make all the employees feel like they are striving towards that goal.
“I just don’t know how much more I can take.” I snapped out of my management thoughts when I realized Mandy had started to speak again.
“I’m sorry, Mandy. How much more of what?” I asked, focusing solely on my employee.
“Of Kevin. His comments and actions are really starting to get to me. Nothing has been completely inappropriate, but they are getting borderline. I just feel I need to let someone know.”
Shit. I remembered Frank’s words to me about Kevin and sexual harassment cases. Was this really happening?
The Green Ticket Page 10