Cut And Dried

Highlights or Perm?

Chrissie

Seven thirty, still thirty minutes to go, that's the thought running through my head as I brushed a hand through my long silky brown hair pulling it into a low ponytail and slipping on an elastic band to hold it in place.

Taking a deep breath I resumed sweeping the hair clippings that a few minutes ago littered the floor but now were in a nice neat pile ready for the dustpan and brush.

Tonight being my night to stay late and lock up the salon and that involved cleaning up the place ready for the morning, the saving grace for working late was you got to come in late the following morning.

After depositing the fifth dustpan full of hair clippings into the bin, I paused to wipe the sweat from my brow that threatened to roll into my blue green eyes and folding my arms, I surveyed the scene with a satisfactory nod and a small grin formed on my face as I congratulated myself on a job well done.

A Cut Above was a tiny family run ladies hairdressing salon that resided in a converted terraced house just off the High Street, the lounge diner becoming the main shop and the upstairs bedrooms were changed into makeup and nail Studio's.

So for the last two hours after everyone else had gone home I tidied up, starting upstairs and working my way down, with all the staff employed here, it worked out everybody worked a late night two or three times a month.

For me I didn't mind it one bit, I had nothing to go home to, only to read and listen to music and feed cat if he bothered to show up.

I had been saving for past three months and had treated myself to a poor mans version of an iPod and that kept me entertained doing the chores as it meant I could sing and dance because being alone and with no neighbours as there were shops either side.

At last I dropped the last dustpan of cuttings into the bin and having returned the cleaning equipment back to its rightful cupboard and tidied myself up, I gathered my handbag and coat and placed them near the door, checking my watch there were only ten minutes to go.

So plonking down on one of the chairs in the waiting area, I picked up one of the outdated magazines off the coffee table and flicked through it killing time.

Just as I reached for another magazine there was a commotion outside and it seemed to be getting louder, dropping the magazine back on the pile I started up out the chair when the door flew open and a body shot in before turning, closing the door, dropping the latch and flicking the open sign round to closed.

By now I was up and in two minds what to do, who is this person and how dare he come in and shut up shop before it was time.

Wait a minute a he? a man? what the hell is a man doing in here on his own? Clearing my throat, which made him stiffen and slowly turn to face me.

And oh my god what a man, I have never really studied men after I saw the results of male female interaction and the tears and heartache they caused, no way was I going down that road.

But if I ever had to do just that, then this is the specimen of manhood I would like to have to do it with. However that was just my hormones talking, I for one knew it wasn't even on the cards.

We stood for what must have been a few minutes trying to stare each other down, before he moved quickly from the door and sat in one of the stylists chairs.

"Quick" he muttered "Look like your doing my hair and stand so they can't see in from the window"

Wow bossy or what, he barges into my shop, I know it's not technically my shop I only work here, but as it's eight o'clock and I am the only employee here then it's my shop.