Mistress Amber by Lacey Silks

Author:Lacey Silks [Silks, Lacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-927715-01-7
Publisher: MyLit Publishing

If you’d like to know why Chris’s wife filed for divorce read Mistress Claire.

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This short story is part of the “My Reason To Cheat” collection which follows the lives of five unfaithful couples and can be purchased at a discount.

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Sneak Peak at Crossed

Chapter 1

Hair dryers buzzed. Scissors clipped. The smell of hydrogen peroxide and expensive shampoo filled the air. My employees at Grace’s Salon moved around like an army of well-trained ants, styling and washing some of the world’s most famous heads. By appointment only—no one showed up here unannounced. The spa and salon had just been reviewed on television by three different celebrities, booking me up for months in advance. So when my gaze caught the doorway where my best friend Emma Cross stood beside a caveman, I nearly dropped dead.

Where in the world did she find him? This was Manhattan and definitely not the Stone Age. I rushed to the front, huffing and puffing as if I were the wolf in “The Three Little Pigs,” but of course Emma already had her puppy eyes set, ready for a battle we both knew I was going to lose.

“What is that!” I pointed to the man who hadn’t moved a muscle since the moment she dragged him in. His face remained unreadable, but that was probably because most of it was covered with long facial hair. I leaned in to look more closely. Is that a feather in there? Oh, the stench! I backed away as if I’d just run into Pepé Le Pew.

“He was undercover for a while, under Allie’s branch, and now he needs a cut before you take him to rehab.”

“Is it human?” I poked him in his arm with my forefinger, but he didn’t budge. I swear his shirt must have stiffened from all the dirt it had collected. “Wait, what do you mean I take him to rehab? It’s your job. If my clients see me with it, I’ll be ruined, Emma.”

I didn’t even care if he heard me. There was no way that dressed in clothing which had never seen a washing machine, and sporting a beard suitable for holding a Guinness World Record or at least some sort of a wild bird’s nest, he would walk a step further into my salon.

“He really needs a haircut,” she pouted, leaning into me. “And a shave. You know, if it were me, I’d just shave all of him, if you know what I mean. Maybe even give him a nice wax. That ought to bring him back, don’t you think?”

For a moment there I thought the caveman’s eyes skidded to my friend, but maybe it was just me.

“Emma, I don’t think I have scissors big enough and blades sharp enough to conquer that forest on his face. And I’d have to order at least a gallon of wax. Besides, this is not some charity salon.

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