Carpe DiEmily (A Romantic Comedy Adventure)

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“I’m sorry,” Tyler said as he massaged her scalp during her hair appointment. Just those two simple words, said with such sincerity, were enough to bring her to tears. Emily was glad her damp hair covered her eyes so Tyler couldn’t see the two large teardrops that fell onto her very creased pants. Tyler’s strong hands felt soothing on her scalp as his fingers rubbed in slow circles, anesthetizing the headache that pounded at her temples.

“It’s not fair,” said Emily. “Simone doesn’t work hard like I do. She spends all day talking and flirting. Half the time she’s late and hung over!”

Tyler gently moved her head back up, moving the hair out of her eyes with a comb. He looked at her sympathetically. “The higher-ups will eventually recognize your talent and hard work. They’re just going for the flash right now. She’s obviously marketed herself well. But they’ll soon see their mistake.”

“You think?” Emily asked, in a voice more whiny and plaintive than she intended.

Tyler nodded, combing a portion of damp hair straight down by her face, the silver scissors glistening in his hand. He always looked so handsome when he concentrated, his green eyes focused and intent, jaw square, his bicep muscle flexed slightly beneath the sleeve of his white t-shirt. What kind of guys did he date? More importantly, why did the universe unfairly make gay men the most beautiful? She stared at the “Gay Pride” framed picture of his boyfriend—the one of the handsome young blond man he always kept on his workstation. Part of Tyler’s appeal was that he was a bit mysterious. She didn’t know too much about him, not personal details, anyway. She knew he was a thinker, that he cared about things. She didn’t know much more than that.

Tyler examined her hair in the mirror, holding a section of limp brown locks between his fingers. “The usual? A half-inch off the bottom, no layers or anything different?”

“The usual,” Emily replied. “No changes.” He looked disappointed. She knew that one day, Tyler would succeed in talking her into something different, but today wasn’t that day. She couldn’t take a chance on looking too different for her big night.

As Tyler parted her hair, she studied him. She wondered what it must be like to be a successful entrepreneur, to have your own business without having to deal with a prick boss like Darren.

She had to hand it to Tyler. He was a small town guy from Texas who’d moved out here a few years ago, and now his salon was one of the most highly sought-after places in Los Angeles. In fact, Emily had first heard of his salon online, where reviewers raved about seeing celebrities like Antonio Banderas there. Emily had a secret crush on Antonio Banderas—although Lenny mocked her about this—and had booked an appointment the next day. A month later, she’d been sitting in the leather seat, having her hair cut by the gorgeous salon owner himself.

Tyler hadn’t balked that first day when she’d asked for just a trim instead of a full haircut (she liked keeping the same easy style, plus it saved her money), and he’d laughed when she’d asked about Antonio Banderas. He said he’d let her know when Antonio came in next, and in fact did—booking her next appointment right after Antonio’s the following month. Antonio had nodded and said hello to Emily in passing, his accent thick and smooth like butter, and Emily had nearly swooned. But five minutes into her trim with Tyler, she realized Antonio couldn’t hold a candle to the salon owner. Tyler was, quite simply, the most handsome and charming man Emily had ever seen, and she wasn’t alone in noticing this. The women practically fell over themselves to talk to him, interrupting his work with questions and comments from their seats under the metal dryers, nudging each other and giggling, oblivious to how ridiculous they looked with their bobbing, grinning, foil-wrapped heads.

Tyler was always polite, but he never engaged those women in anything beyond superficial chitchat. To Emily’s mind, it meant he was loyal to her, saving his deeper self for when she was in his chair, listening attentively as she told him about her life, her private thoughts, her fears. His concentration on her was absolute, and she felt like the only woman in the world for this hour in his salon once a month.