Like The Wind by Bengtsson J

Author:Bengtsson, J. [Bengtsson, J.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: J. Bengtsson
Published: 2019-04-15T16:00:00+00:00

13

Breeze: The Makeover

The salon was empty, just as I’d expected it would be. Though my work wasn’t in the direct path of danger from the fire, it was close enough that a bunch of women weren’t going to brave the elements to get pampered.

I held the door open and Bodhi peered inside. “You sure no one will come in?”

“It’s doubtful. But if someone does, I’ll just throw a towel over your head. This is a hair salon. No one will think twice about it.”

Satisfied, Bodhi stepped over the threshold, scanning all the stations. “Let me guess which one is yours.”

“Okay,” I smiled, confident that, of the ten booths scattered around the room, he wouldn’t figure out which one was mine until his very last guess. We all decorated our stations differently. Those with kids had shrines built up of their smiling faces. The older ladies might have a picture of their grandchildren or a photo of their dog. The newlyweds had honeymoon shots and the candy lovers had heaping bowls of mini chocolates at their stations.

“This one,” Bodhi guessed a workstation displaying dog pictures. Given what he knew about me so far, it was a valid choice.

“Nope.”

He snagged a candy out of a bowl. “Okay then, this one and, might I add, my personal favorite.”

“You like candy?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Are you the type of celebrity who makes your assistant pick out the red M&M’s before giving them to you?”

Bodhi wrinkled his nose. “Of course not.” From his tone, he appeared hurt by the joke. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

“I was only kidding,” I backtracked. “I’m sorry. Bad joke.”

“Yeah, I’d say so.” A grin broke wide across his lips. “All M&M’s are served to me separated by color, of course.”

I smacked his chest. “Don’t do that to me. I thought you were mad.”

“It’s called acting, Breeze,” he said playfully before grabbing for more chocolate minis from my coworker’s bowl. “This candy is frickin’ amazing. How can you work here with this stuff lying around all day?”

“It’s called making a living, Bodhi.”

Ignoring my dig, he continued his exploration of the salon.

“Okay, so I know the kid ones aren’t yours and unless you have particularly bad taste in guys, which you disproved this morning,” He paused to offer a self-assured smirk. “Then this one here can’t be yours either. I give up. Which one is it?”

“The one with the roses.”

Bodhi wandered over to my station where a flower overload was underway. Pictures of the dainty blooms were pasted to my mirror and little rose trinkets littered the counter. But it was the tall vase filled with buds that caught Bodhi’s attention. He ran his fingers over the petals. “Wait, these are fake. What’s the point in that?”

Yes, they were fake roses and not even pretty ones, but they held a special meaning. These were my proposal roses, eleven in all. Before sneaking out to ask for my hand in marriage, Hugh would always swipe one rose out of the silk arrangement from the lobby of the nursing home.

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