Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
On the eighth floor, there’s actually a lighted exit sign at the end of the hallway, but when I reach it there’s no door—only a window. On the outside of the building is a half-attached fire escape that ends two stories down. It looks like the lower half fell off and was never replaced. The building’s a hazard. She’ll need to move, but I’m guessing that’s not going to be an easy discussion. She seems to be the type who’d rather bite off her hand than accept anything she could call charity.
On the floor in front of her door is a rubber welcome mat with two cat paws imprinted on it. A cat person? I wouldn’t have pegged her as someone who has a pet. I’ll find out when I get inside, which should be soon. I’ll be coming back here until she’s ready to move out. I wonder how much space I’m going to need. Per the police report, she’s got at least one brother that she cares for. There could be more. It doesn’t matter. All those are extraneous to my main purpose, which is to claim Lauren Roberts as mine.
Chapter Four
LAUREN
“Girl, you’re jumpier than a horned toad on a rainy day,” exclaims my client Rose as the door chime makes me flinch for the hundredth time.
“I’ve got a package coming,” I lie. Although is it? I’m expecting either the police to show up or Mrs. Ware, and both options would be bad for me. I force myself to concentrate. I just need to finish her cut and I can go on break.
“Ohh, what is it? Something pretty, I hope. You’re always wearing black. I think you should branch out. Look at Criselle over there. She’s always wearing something bright and fun, and she’s got more men than most women have purses.”
“Purses are expensive,” I murmur between snips.
“If you had more men in your pocket, they would pay for your purses.”
“I’ll keep my eye out,” I say because I really can’t argue with Rose. Her Hermes collection rivals the Kardashians, and as far as I know, the fifty-plus Fifth Avenue matron hasn’t held a job in her life. Liz, our perks girl who goes around giving hand massages during the cuts and styles, says that Rose’s hands are as soft as a marshmallow. The hardest task that she’s ever undertaken is probably deciding which caterer to choose. One bag and my brother would be out of jail.
“My son was lamenting just the other day the lack of eligible ladies in the city. He says that he would bring one home if he could find one.”
Not that I’d want to date Rose’s son, but it’s interesting how she’s never offered to hook me up. I don’t think it ever occurred to her that I could be a potential match. To her, I’m probably not fully human, just the service bot who cuts, colors, and styles.
The door flies open with a bang. Even Rose jumps in her seat. I narrowly avoid chopping off a huge portion at the crown when Isabella McGowan comes running in.
“Did you hear the news?” she cries, her giant Delvaux bag banging against my friend Chloe’s work cart. Chloe toes it out of the way so the dye mixture doesn’t get knocked to the floor. I send her a look of sympathy, and she shrugs. What can you do? This is how we make money to feed our families.
“You almost made me spill my Americano, Issy.” Rose brushes a few droplets off her cape. I offer her a towel, which she takes and then tosses onto the floor. “Out with it. The gossip looks like it’s about to burst your seams if you don’t share.”
Issy bustles over to my station and drops down in an empty chair. “The Academy was broken into last night.”
The scissors slip out of my hands and glance off Rose’s cape-covered shoulder to fall harmlessly onto the concrete floor.
“My God, girl, what are you doing? You almost killed me,” shrieks Rose.
I mumble an apology and retrieve the scissors. Rose isn’t going to leave me. I’m the only one who gets the blond color right, or so she’s said, but I can say goodbye to any tip. My heart sinks to my knees. I need money for bail. The jail told me it was a grand, and I just don’t have that lying around.
Issy tsks. “Good help is so hard to find these days.”
“Forget about her.” Rose brushes her hand next to her face as if she’s ridding herself of a pesky fly. “Tell me more. Did they catch who did it? What did they steal?”
“The test answers, of course, for the entrance exam, and as far as I know, no one was caught. They’re going to redo the tests.”
“It is obviously one of the parents because who else would be interested in those test results?” Rose taps her lower lip with a perfectly manicured fingernail painted in pale pink. I snip slowly, trying to draw out the cut long enough to get all the gossip I can from these two.