One of Us Is Dead(3)

“Oh . . . ummm . . . actually, I’m not sure,” she said. “He’s like a stray dog sometimes. Can’t keep track of him,” she added with a laugh.

Olivia and Dean were two of the most influential and powerful people in Buckhead, so for them, it was all about keeping up appearances. Even though I had known her for three years, I didn’t have a clue what Dean did for a living, and I don’t think she did either. As long as she kept getting her allowance, I don’t think she cared. Rumor had it that he was into some sort of shady smuggling business, but if you asked him, he’d tell you it’s supply chain.

“Speaking of stray dogs, are there any in your life?” She smiled.

I continued to paint her roots with the rich dye, which smelled like ammonia. It wasn’t a smell most people liked, but I did. It was comforting.

“No, none for me. This salon is my life.” I glanced around, taking it all in.

Five years from its inception, Glow is now clean and modern with hardwood floors throughout, exceptional track lighting, and the newest and most expensive salon equipment. There are black velvet floor-to-ceiling curtains separating the reception area from the rest of the salon. No one gets past those curtains unless you’re a client or an employee. Nonclients speak of this place like it’s the throne room at Buckingham Palace.

“Oh, sweetie. You can’t make a building your whole life,” she said with a chuckle. “And that says a lot, coming from me. I’d sell my soul for a Crocodile Birkin. Oh, you probably don’t even know what that is, which is for the best. You have simpler things to focus on.”

Kinsult.

I gave a tight-lipped smile and began trimming her ends. She had just had a trim last week, so it was quite unnecessary, but she was the one with the Black AmEx. Her phone buzzed again, and I glanced down, seeing it was a text from someone named Bryce’s Midlife Crisis.

“Sorry, Jenny. I completely forgot I have to grab lunch with the ladies today. How long is this going to take?” She bounced her foot quickly.

“Thirty minutes for the hair, but waxing will take another thirty.”

“Well, we’ll have to skip the wax for now. Gotta make nice with the new wife.” Her voice was laced with sarcasm.

“New wife?”

“Crystal Madison, new wife of Bryce—and if you ask me, a major upgrade from Shannon.” She smirked.

“Yeah, I heard Bryce left Shannon for a younger woman. They just married, right?”

Bryce was a US congressman, and he served on a committee for trade. There were rumors swirling of infidelity two months before his reelection campaign ended. He barely got reelected. Right after he was voted back in, he left Shannon and married Crystal, spinning the whole thing with the press as though he was stuck in a loveless marriage and finally found true love. I assumed he planned it out nicely to give himself enough time to repair his image before the next election.

“Have you met Crystal yet?” She shot me a quick glance in the mirror.

“Nope, haven’t had the pleasure.” I shook my head.

“You probably won’t, she’s real country,” she said putting a little twang in it. Olivia always tried to hide the slow drawl of her thick Georgia accent under some odd combination veneer of Upper West Side Manhattan meets Midwestern news anchor, but once in a while her country would come out, to her great dismay.

“Not into the glitz and glam of Buckhead?” I brushed out the ends of Olivia’s hair and checked the time on the dye.

Buckhead is a wealthy uptown district of Atlanta. It doesn’t sound all that nice with a hard name like Buckhead, but to give you an idea, the average home costs well over $800,000. It’s known as “the Beverly Hills of the East.”

“Not at all. Don’t get me wrong. She’s beautiful, a real Jessica Simpson look-alike. But I don’t think she’ll be a regular of yours. Too all-natural and fresh-faced for my taste, and she’s young, like twenty-five.” Olivia rolled her eyes. Olivia didn’t like young, because she wasn’t anymore. She would never be one of those women that aged gracefully. She would fight it tooth and nail.

“Much younger than Bryce,” I noted.

“Oh, yes. Shannon was probably most mad about that. You know, her husband trading her in for a younger woman. But Bryce is all about trade,” Olivia said pointedly with a chuckle.

“I bet that hasn’t been easy for her. How’s she holding up?” I gestured Olivia to a sink. She sat down and leaned her head back as I gently rinsed out her hair.

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” she said flippantly.

“Well, you two are friends,” I said a little louder to speak over the sound of the water and because I was also shocked to hear Olivia hadn’t checked up on Shannon after everything she had been through.

“Correction: were friends. I have to distance myself from that. Shannon is a sinking ship in this town. Sure, she has alimony, but Bryce has all the influence and power.”

My eyes grew wide as I processed what she had said. Olivia and Shannon had been close, and to learn they weren’t any longer because her husband left her was a shock. At that moment, I knew something wasn’t right. The balance in the group wasn’t the same. It was like when all the wind stops and the sky turns bright, right before the storm explodes.

I hadn’t seen Shannon this month yet, and she was close to getting terminated as a client. She had seven days to come in for eight treatments, and I had intended to give her a little wiggle room, but it was clear Olivia wanted her out. I made a mental note to call Shannon that afternoon to remind her.