ZACH
"What the fuck is he doing here?"
Murder flickers in Andie's narrowed eyes. There's the slightest tremble in my finger when I push up my glasses. I'm on high alert. All signs point to that woman launching across the salon to kill me where I stand.
I glance at Yvette for support. No help there. She is loving every second of the drama from her perch at front reception, a lazy grin spreading across her face.
Yvette lifts her shoulder like my presence is no big deal. "Zach made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
Offer isn't quite the right word. Blackmail? That's closer to the truth.
My silence about Yvette's real name and the fact she is the daughter of a prominent judge is finally going to cost her. I recognized her the second we met, but she practically begged me to keep that information to myself.
No idea why Yvette doesn't want the girls to know—her secrets are her business—but I'm calling on the favor she said she owed me. I want a day at the salon to learn more about Eden's work.
Andie pushes the sleeves of her black shirt up over her shoulders. Her eyes don't leave mine. A warning. Like she's preparing for a cage match. "Eden isn't working here today."
"I know," I reply. "That was the plan."
"Plan?" Andie's eyes narrow on me before flicking to Yvette. "One of you better start talking. What's going on?"
"Hey, keep your accusing eyes off me," Yvette says. "This was all his bright idea."
Andie's scowl turns back to me. It's too much. My eyes drop to trace the uneven lines of the wooden floor under my feet. Thoughts are swirling, but sometimes it takes a moment to bundle them all together and force them out of my mouth. When I'm sure I can speak without stuttering, I lift my eyes back to Andie.
"I want to understand more about your salon," I explain. "Eden and I never talked much about work. I didn't want to bore her with mine, and I had this stupid idea in my head that she was putting on a brave face about hers because she was struggling on minimum wage working for some dive."
Andie's eyes are pure murder. "A dive? You think this place"—she holds her arms out wide and motions around the salon—"is a dive?"
Embarrassed, I drop gaze to my feet. My dumb assumptions—well, they were way off. I know that now.
You don't get more upmarket than Eden's salon. Tucked down one of the best streets in Sydney, it's a whole vibe. Exposed brick, industrial, but somehow all sparkle and luxury—just like Eden. Her special touches are all over this place. The greenery, daisies, and delicate glass lamps lighting up all the dark corners. The crazy cat art on the walls. Oversized fluffy white lounges. It's all her.
Andie's hands go to her hips. "You reduce everything Eden has achieved to nothing. She's worked her ass off for fifteen years to go from an apprentice to one of the most highly sought-after stylists in the country. Do you get that?"
"I know I was wrong. And I should have made the time to listen to Eden. I want a chance to understand what her days are like... so I... so I..." My thoughts are getting stuck again, so I pause, taking a second to collect myself. "I want to know how everything works here so I can support Eden better... if she ever needs me."
"Eden doesn't need you," Andie bites back. "She has us. We never let her down."
Yvette rolls her eyes. "Spare us the dramatics. Can't you see he's trying? Give the poor bastard a chance."
"He's used up all his chances," Andie growls.
"But look how nice he dressed up." Yvette's waving at my jeans and black t-shirt like they're worth looking at. "He'll be a distracting bit of eye candy for all our ladies today. Just check out his ass in those jeans."
My eyes go wide, my face on fire. "Y-you can't say stuff like that... E-Eden..."
Yvette laughs. "Oh, sweetie, Eden has talked plenty about your ass. Our clients know all about you."
When I flick a glance at Andie, she makes a gagging face. Yvette can't stop laughing. Oh, hell. Nerves get the better of me, and I push my glasses up even though they haven't slipped down at all. Maybe this is a big mistake. I have a sinking feeling these women are going to eat me alive.
Andie's still not sold. She turns back to me. "So, if I agree to this stupid idea, are you planning on sitting around all day and being a pain in my ass? In case you didn't notice, that position's already been filled."
Yvette cackles.
"I don't want to get in your way," I say. "I can be useful. I'll help out any way you want."
"Any way I want, huh?" Andie grins.
She looks evil as hell, and my stomach drops through my boots. Yeah, this is definitely a big mistake.
Andie doesn't waste a second putting me to work. She barks orders all morning. There's a lot of preparation before the appointments even start. Deliveries to unpack. Stocking everything. Tidying. Fixing cushions so they are just so. I ask a lot of questions, but Andie's surprisingly patient. Tough but fair.
More staff start trickling in around nine o'clock. I thought Eden and Andie did all the hair stuff. I never realized how many other people keep this place running. My head is spinning. I can barely keep track of everyone's names.
There are two girls—Bridgette and Vera—that work around the basins and giggle every time I look in their direction. Jerry is a stylist like Eden and Andie, but he tells me he specializes in something called blowouts. Whenever he finishes with a client, we all have to ooh and aah and say how fabulous they look. It's not fake, though. His ladies all end up with manes of huge, wavy hair. They look like they could be in a shampoo commercial or something.
Maddison is supposed to run around waiting on everyone, fuss over them, bring them drinks, tidy up and keep everything restocked.
Supposed to.
She's currently perched on the stool at the front reception, tapping away on her phone because Andie decided I'm the person to do all those jobs today. I think I'm doing okay. I was an instant pro with the coffee machine, and everything's always restocked and ready. I only broke one glass. Everyone seems happy—even Andie.
And then there's Yvette. And... well... I still don't really understand what Yvette does. She flitters around chatting with the clients, always laughing and keeping everyone's spirits up. Sometimes, she answers the phone. Most of the time, she disappears to who-knows-where before she randomly pops back up somewhere.
I'm sorting the robes for dry cleaning when I hear Yvette's silver heels click along the wood floor of the laundry room and stop beside me.
Guess she's popped back up.
"So," Yvette drawls. "A little birdie tells me you'll be gracing the Worley corporate box with your presence tonight."
I can't help the smirk when I tease, "Is that little birdie your daddy?"
Yvette's long black eyelashes narrow into a straight line. "Watch it, lawyer boy."
"Relax, relax. I'm taking your secret identity to the grave. But yeah... I'll be at the match tonight."
"You taking a date?" Yvette runs her finger along the top of the washing machine, a coy smile playing on her lips.
"Of course not." My stomach twists, uneasy. Yvette's acting so weird. "Are you fishing for an invite?"
"I'd rather shove a hot curling iron in my eye than spend a night with a bunch of lawyers pretending to like football. Kinda thought you might be the same?"
"You're not wrong. I don't want to go. It was strongly recommended to me that I need to be there tonight. Apparently, I need to start being more visible at bullshit functions."
"Who told you that? Mike Gardener?" Yvette sneers as she says my boss's name. "Hell is too good for that bastard."
My hands freeze on the pile of towels I was about to scoop into the washing machine. Yvette's words surprise me, but I'm careful to keep my face neutral. "You're not wrong about that either," I eventually say.
Yvette lets out a hollow laugh. "Don't think for a second that man will stop taking his pound of flesh from you just because you make partner, Zach."
"Believe me. I don't. I have a feeling he'll be taking a pound of flesh from me even when I'm dead."
"He will. He'll sell you a golden dream, but don't ever be stupid enough to believe a single word out of his mouth. Everything he says is a lie."
A cold prickle runs up my spine. I've never heard Yvette speak like this. She's usually all sparkles and rainbows—like Eden. My eyes dart over her face. Something's not right. Her features are so severe, everything's drawn down, and there's a flash of emotion in her eyes. It's only for a second, but I see it. Fear.
"Yvette, are you okay—"
She waves a hand at me to brush me off. And then it's like the whole conversation never happened. The transformation is instant. Her eyes are bright and cheerful, and a big smile spreads back across her face.
"Well, enjoy the football tonight!" Yvette chirps. "Or maybe you'll get lucky and Andie will kill you first."
And then she's cackling again as she disappears back to who-knows-where.