“Hey, congrats on the studio by the way.”
“Thanks. We’re all good to go. We start working with our first band next week. They’re kinda new on the scene, but they’re seriously fucking good. Can’t wait to get started now.”
“That’s really grea-”
“KIPPERRRRRRRR!” Matt bellowed, interrupting us. When I turned at the sound of his voice I saw him standing just outside the French doors with his arms above his head. Then he made his way over to us, grabbing a beer from the round, glass garden table along the way. “How ya doin’, my man?”
“Same as I was when you saw me this morning.”
“This is my buddy Alex,” Matt added, gesturing behind him as Alex followed him outside.
“Hey,” Kip greeted, stepping forward to shake Alex’s hand. “You’re the guy from the bar, right?”
“Right. You have an awesome place here.”
“Thanks. We’ve not been here long but I think it’s pretty perfect. Of course, Elle wants to change every damn thing.”
“I agree,” Matt chipped in. “You need to get mirrors on your ceilings.”
“Somehow I don’t think she’s gonna be up for that,” Kip said, laughing.
Leaving the guys to it, I headed inside to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I stayed in there until Elle arrived and then I followed her upstairs to help her choose an outfit. I swear her wardrobe was bigger than my entire apartment, and it took her a good forty minutes to settle on something to wear.
I laid back on her four-poster bed with my hands locked behind my head while she took a shower. My eyes ended up drifting to the ceiling and I laughed to myself about Matt’s mirror comment.
“You know Matt thinks you need mirrored ceilings in here,” I quipped when she re-entered the bedroom.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she said, shaking her head. “Who’s that guy with him?”
“That’s Alex. A bartender from Kaleidoscope.”
“The gay club?”
“Uh huh. Matt’s new favorite hangout apparently.”
“Does he know it’s a gay club?”
“Yep. Apparently it’s a relief not having women hit on him every five minutes.”
“Okay, what’s going on? That doesn’t sound like Matt at all.”
“Maybe he’s finally going through puberty,” I joked. Elle had dried and changed and was just about to start doing her hair when I got up from the bed. “Want me to do that?” I offered.
“Thanks. You’ll be quicker than if I have to do it myself.”
“No problem. Do you want it flicking under or out at the ends?” I asked, picking up the comb from her dressing table as she sat down on the padded chair.
“Surprise me.”
After combing through Elle’s hair, I removed the nozzle from her hairdryer, ready to blast it through.
“You really suit being dark,” I complimented. “You know what would look great on you though?” She looked up at me curiously through the mirror. “A bob,” I explained, scooping her shoulder-length hair up in my hand and hovering it next to her chin. “Maybe concave. It would show off this tattoo on the back of your neck beautifully.”
“My scissors are in that drawer,” she said, nodding in the direction of the drawer next to her knees.
“Wait, you want me to cut it?” I asked, snapping my head back in disbelief. Not because I didn’t think she trusted me to do a good job, but because Elle had never had hair above her shoulders in all the time I’d known her.
“Sure. I could do with a change.”
“And you’re sure?”
“Yes. But fuck up my scissors and I’ll fuck up you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I teased, saluting her through the mirror.
My heart rate spiked when I made the first cut. This was Elle and no one in the world was as fussy about their hair as she was. I worked slowly, grasping neat sections and taking my time. We chatted mostly about Kip’s new studio and the interviews she’d been holding for potential stylists at her new salon. We also talked about her sister Kylie back home in London. I knew Elle worried about her, given that their mother was a waste of space. Right now Elle deposited money for her sister in a secret bank account once a month so their mum couldn’t bleed her dry, and apparently she planned to move Kylie over here once she left school next year and take her on as an apprentice in the salon.
Then, I’ve no idea how we got to this topic, but by the time I was ready to blow dry her new style, we were discussing the pros and cons of oil versus water-based lube.
“Sure the oil feels nicer,” she agreed. “But it takes forever to wash it out of your bits.”
“Trust me, you’re buying the wrong stuff. I’ll bring you some of mine.”
“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’ve asked Kip to, you know, give the other hole a go.”
“Jesus Christ, Elle!” I laughed, tipping my head back and trying to get rid of the image in my mind.