“Just pick a guy you don’t work with. New York is rotten with single man who know how to dress,” Brenna said, cleaning her baby’s face. She was right about that. Why was I so interested in the one who didn’t shave, hadn’t had a haircut in what seemed like months, and would embarrass me every time we went out together?
There was no question there, of course, the thing between Easton and I, if you could even call it a thing, was over.
I was his stylist and nothing more. Sooner or later, this would be over, and I would never have to see him again.
&
nbsp; 13
Easton
What did you say to the woman you hooked up with who told you after the said hook up, that you were a mistake? I had about five minutes to figure out. Missy’s assistant had sent me a message to show up at a spa in the city. Apparently, it was for the grooming part of our exercise. I knew what I looked like. I was a handsome guy. I had never had a short haircut or a clean-shaven face since I was back in the army. I knew that was what she wanted to do to me. Turn me into some sort of corporate clone that she and Toby could approve of.
I had to remind myself why I was doing this again. After our last encounter, she was the last person that I wanted to spend any time with. I didn’t expect her to contact me directly to tell me about this appointment, but the message was sent by her assistant which for some reason stung a little bit. I knew it was because she wanted to put some distance between us, that must’ve been it. Talking to her assistant and not her was the point, it was the motive behind it.
And the motive behind participating in this ridiculous exercise was to make sure that my company stood the test of time. In the unusual case that it did fail, I didn’t want the reason to be me. We pulled up to the spa and I jumped out. All we were doing here was a haircut and maybe shaving my beard off, how long could that possibly take? Along with the fact that Missy didn’t want to spend that much time around me, I would be in and out of this place in like an hour, tops.
I walked in and looked around. It was all white and powder blue and there was some annoying music playing. In the waiting area were some white couches that looked like they weren’t supposed to be sat on.
“Can I help you sir?” the woman behind the desk asked. Even she looked fake. She was pretty, but her face was pulled into a smile that looked like she practiced it in the mirror.
“Yeah, I don’t actually know whether she was showing up too, but I should have an appointment under Easton Schultz, or Artemis James, one of those.”
“Wonderful, we’ve been expecting you. If you could just take a seat, Miss James will be right with you.” I thanked her and went over to one of the couches. Sinking onto it, it felt like sitting on a cloud. What the hell was I doing here? There was nothing wrong with the way I looked. I had seen the kind of clothes that she wanted me to wear and okay, they looked good. They looked expensive and they made me look like someone who knew what they were talking about. I understood what she meant about the clothes. But my face?
I personally thought that the long hair suited me. It wasn’t even that long; it hadn’t even reached my shoulders yet. If she wanted to see wild, I could show her wild, but I wasn’t even there yet. My beard wasn’t that bad either. It was not the point where I needed to consistently trim it in order to keep it looking good. If I got rid of them, I would look just like any other guy. They were almost my signature. They were what made me unique.
So what if future clients didn’t like it? Weren't billionaire geniuses allowed to be a little bit eccentric?
That click-clack of heels sounded on the floor and Missy appeared. She looked great, as usual. There was no sign of the woman I was in the changing room with. While we were in there, she let go of that weird British stiff upper lip. She wasn't working for me and Toby, we were just people. Two people who are into each other and wanted to see how things would go. I missed that woman, but it was no use. I knew exactly what she felt about me, she had told me.
“Finally, you're here.”
“I'm not even late,” I said.
“I know you're not, but since you're here, that means I can leave.” Well, that made sense. It wasn't like she was the one cutting my hair. It was kind of amusing to see how quickly she wanted to get away from me though. This place wasn’t like the suit store. When and where would we be alone together in a place like this anyway to let something like what had happened before happen once again?
“So, what's happening? Why did you drag me out here?”
She looked like she was going to give me a smart remark but then she pulled herself back. “You are going to receive a number of treatments to improve your appearance.”
“Improve my appearance?” You would think I was an ogre or something with the way she talked about me. “Okay. What are we doing?”
A woman that I hadn't noticed previously walked up to us. She started talking to Missy in a language I didn't recognize. It wasn't Spanish, was that French? Missy replied to her in the same language because of course, she did. Of course, Missy James who had ties to the Royal Family in England could speak French, I watched the two of them talking wishing there was such a thing as subtitles in real life. Both the women looked at me and then looked back at each other, continuing their conversation. Now that I knew I was the subject, I wanted to know what they were saying.
“What's going on?” I asked Missy.
“Just a second,” she said to me, continuing her conversation with a woman. After a little more back and forth, she turned to me once again. “I have to make a phone call to my assistant, there seems to be some sort of mistake.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“Sure, whatever.” I waited while she took the call. Even though I only heard her half of the conversation, it was clear that something was wrong.
“What treatments did you book for Mr. Schultz?” Missy asked her assistant over the phone. A pause. “Is that what you selected off the treatment list?” Another pause. “Well of course the list is in French, it's a French Spa…. all right, all right. Thank you, Maggie… no, don’t worry about it. It’s partly my fault, I should have realized.” She ended the call and turned to look at me.
“There has been a mix-up.”
“Right. I hope you weren't chewing out your assistant for my sake. Call her back so I can apologize to her.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “There's no need to call her back, I understand perfectly what has happened. She booked your treatments for you; however, the treatment list was in French and she doesn't understand French. Rather than stumble through it, she made a call to the spa and the attendant spoke French as well. Through the course of whatever they managed to discuss, she ended up booking a couple's package for the day.”