Swept Up Page 3

  “Nice talking to you, too, Mickey,” she said. “And remember our little secret.” She pointed to the fancy shine serums with a wink.

  I grinned and nodded. This woman was more like my mom than anyone I’d ever met—perfectly put together with plenty of style tricks and tips up her tailored sleeve.

  “Now!” Megan said as she looked at her computer. “Let’s see when Giancarlo can fit you in. Do you prefer mornings or afternoons . . .”

  As Megan took over, I happily went back to work. Giancarlo finished up Jordana’s hair, and she left looking like a red bombshell.

  I got back to sweeping and then had to attend to a minor emergency when a client accidentally knocked over the sanitizer at Devon’s station. Later, Violet asked me to help clean up the foils on her station after a color job and Megan had me restock some products at the front.

  At the end of the day, Mom found me while I gathered up hand towels from Karen’s manicure station downstairs. She clicked over to me in her skinny heels and tailored skirt. And of course, her hair was perfect—never a strand out of place, a colored root showing, or a split end in sight. Today, her long, black hair hung loose down her back, the sides tucked neatly behind her ears.

  “I’m about done,” I said, ready to take the towels to the bin upstairs. I always went home before closing because Mom wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to do my homework.

  “Need some help with that?” she asked, her rich-green eyes on the pile in my arms.

  “I got it,” I assured her.

  A faint smile crossed her face. “Look at you. It’s like you’ve worked here your whole life.”

  Mom looked at me with something like pride in her eyes. I felt relieved knowing I may have finally settled into working at the salon. It had certainly not been the easiest thing to do. But it was the only job I’d ever wanted—I couldn’t wait to be a real stylist someday.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said.

  “Dad is making sandwiches for dinner,” she said. “Can you stop at Farm Fresh on your way home and get some bread and cheese? He has turkey breast at home but needs a loaf of sourdough French and some Jarlsberg.”

  The thing about my dad—he loves food. Good food. So even though he claimed we were just having sandwiches, they’d be amazing sandwiches. The freshest and best-quality ingredients made with extra TLC.

  “Yeah, sure,” I said.

  “Grab some money out of my wallet in my office. And great job today, as always.”

  Wow, I thought as I brought the towels upstairs. Mom hardly ever praised me. Not because she was mean or didn’t think I did a good job, but she’s a perfectionist and I had blown it at the salon on one or two (or seventeen) occasions. So when she told me I’d done a great job—as always—I felt like I’d just been accepted into the most prestigious salon training in the world. Like I was finally in.

  After I hung up my apron and grabbed some money, I walked to Farm Fresh, which doubled as a little café with a few round tables in the back. They served the best grilled cheese sandwiches in the world. I’m talking ooey-gooey wonderfulness made with fancy cheeses like Gruyère, Manchego, and Gouda. I got in line and ordered a half pound of their Jarlsberg, per Mom’s orders. Then I stood back to wait as my order was filled. I wondered if there was anything in the world more decadent than a good grilled cheese sandwich. Doubtful.

  I gazed into the small dining area, thinking I should ask Mom and Dad if we could come here for dinner more often, when I saw something that made me catch my breath. It was Eve, sitting with another girl, laughing and eating one of those ooey-gooey grilled cheeses. The girl pulled a string of cheese off her chin, then wiped it on Eve’s plate. Eve laughed and swatted her hand away.

  I’d never seen this girl before and wondered who she was. Had Eve already found someone to replace me? I didn’t like the looks of what I saw, and no, it was not because I was instantly jealous that Eve was having fun with someone besides me. It wasn’t that at all (except maybe a little).

  Since Eve moved to town a couple of months ago, I’d been one of her only friends, along with Kristen and Lizbeth. We’d clicked right away. She was nice with a slightly snarky attitude that made Jonah choke on his words. Who wouldn’t love that quality in a friend?

  I realized I was staring, possibly openmouthed. Eve turned toward me, her face bright with laughter, and before I could look away we locked eyes. She looked as stunned as I felt, and I quickly turned away. I stepped closer to the counter, willing the cheese guy to hurry up with my order. I glanced back to see if she was still looking at me—maybe she hadn’t really seen me?—but when I did it was clear she was looking right at me. And she wasn’t laughing anymore. I turned away again. I couldn’t stand there in that tiny shop any longer.

  I tried to act casual as I started for the door, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. Just as I reached it, though, a woman touched my arm. She pointed back to the counter and said, “You forgot your order.”

  I looked back and saw the cheese guy had just slapped down a white paper package on the counter.

  “Thanks,” I said, scrambling back to the counter. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Eve lean across the table to whisper something to her new friend. I snatched the package from the counter and bolted out the doors.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Blue cheese?”

  Dad looked inside the wrapped paper I’d brought home from Farm Fresh with a disappointed expression on his face. “Did you tell her to get blue cheese?” he asked Mom, who was leaning on the kitchen island.

  She shook her head. “Jarlsberg.”

  “That’s blue cheese?” I asked Dad, leaning over to look.

  “Yes.” He sniffed it, then broke off a small piece and popped it in his mouth. “I mean, it’s delicious and all, but maybe not the best choice for turkey sandwiches.”

  “Sorry, Dad,” I said, sinking into a chair. “I must have grabbed the wrong package.”

  “Well. That’s okay. We’ll make due. Now where’s that bread?”

  “The bread.”

  Dad raised his brows at me. “Did you forget the bread?”

  I sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess I spaced.” Considering what had just happened with Eve, I was surprised I made it home.

  “You okay?” Dad asked, his full attention on me now.

  “I’m fine,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Just tired.”

  Mom came over and rubbed my back. “Tough day at the office?”

  I faked a smile. “Something like that.”

  “Well,” Dad said, looking around the kitchen. “We can still make this work. We’ve got a decent loaf in here somewhere, and maybe if I add bacon, or if we had pears . . .”

  Dad rummaged through the refrigerator, and Mom gave me another look. “You sure you’re okay? You look a little distracted,” she said. “Everything all right at school?”

  Dad dropped his new ingredients on the counter and closed the refrigerator door. “Want to tell us about it?”

  “Well . . . ,” I began. Dad started to chop the bacon while Mom went to the cabinet and took down some dinner plates. But I knew all their attention was on yours truly. “It’s Eve.”

  “I thought you two weren’t speaking?” Mom said delicately. She and Dad knew about the problems we’d had. It wasn’t just my intervening in her and Jonah’s relationship, but there had also been a slight (major) mishap with coloring her hair, too.

  “We’re not,” I said. “Like, definitely not.”

  “What does that mean?” Dad asked.

  “Nothing,” I said, suddenly not sure I wanted to talk about this. I mean, my parents were cool and all, but they weren’t my friends. I wasn’t sure I wanted to confide in them about this.

  “We don’t want to pressure you,” Mom said gently. “But we’re here if you
want a little help.”

  “Or to just talk stuff out,” Dad offered.

  For some reason, that alone made me feel better, if just a tiny bit. “Well,” I continued. “It’s just, I saw her at Farm Fresh with some girl I don’t know. And it looked like they were having a lot of fun.”

  Mom nodded like she understood. “Maybe it was a relative of hers. A cousin?” she suggested.

  “Maybe,” I said. I actually hadn’t thought of that.

  “She didn’t introduce you?” Dad asked.

  “We were sort of on opposite sides of the shop,” I said, which of course drew looks from my parents. Farm Fresh was about as big as a walk-in closet.

  “You didn’t feel like you could go say hello?” Mom asked.

  I shook my head no, remembering how terrified I’d felt seeing her. “I just felt weird, I guess. The look she gave me was just . . . weird.” I couldn’t think of another word to describe it. Except maybe awful.

  “I’m sure she feels the same way,” Mom said. “And remember, a look can mean a thousand things—none of them what you might think. Don’t jump to conclusions until you actually speak with her.”

  “I’m sure she’ll come around,” Dad said. “In the meantime, we’re here if you need us.”

  This time, my forced smiled wasn’t entirely fake. Not entirely real, either—but it was progress.

  “If you want to know my opinion,” Dad said, placing a pan on the stove, “I think there’s nothing better at a time like this than a little comfort food. How about grilled blue cheese with diced bacon?”

  “I think it sounds amazing,” Mom said, a dash of extra enthusiasm in her voice.

  Dad got back to fixing dinner as Mom came over to the table and sat across from me. “So what’s new at the salon?” he asked, an obvious effort to change the subject.

  “Well,” Mom said, glancing at me with a grin. “The salon has been incredible, thanks very much for asking. Business is already up from this time last year and the Best Tressed episode hasn’t even aired yet. That post in Berkshires Beauty has set the local salon industry buzzing. I’m sure they’re all texting in, trying to get on Cecilia’s show now that we’ve done it.”

  “We all knew doing Cecilia’s Best Tressed was going to be amazing for the salon. Right, Mickey?” Dad teased, because that’s not exactly how it went down. When Cecilia’s cameras showed up at the salon unannounced, Mom had had one of her biggest meltdowns yet with all her energy and anger directed at yours truly. “Mickey, want to butter one side of each of these slices?”

  From across the island, Dad passed a plate of bread, the butter, and a knife to me, and I started smearing.

  “Yes, well,” Mom began, “I’m not sure we knew anything. But it did turn out great.”

  I kept buttering the bread, only half paying attention to what I was doing. I tried to analyze the look on Eve’s face at Farm Fresh even though Mom had said I shouldn’t read into it. Why had she looked stunned? Why had her laughter faded? Was she trying to hide that new girl from me? Who was she, anyway?

  “Maybe we should have a party when the episode premieres,” Dad said.

  “Maybe. But first I have to do my Head Honchos gig,” Mom said, leaning back in her chair. The Head Honchos on Cecilia’s show observed the salon’s stylists and offered recommendations. Mom and everyone else had been pretty frustrated with them while they were in Hello, Gorgeous!, but now I guess she saw the value in them.

  “Mickey,” she said, looking at me. “You’ll like this. They’re providing hair and makeup for the filming. What do you think—should I let them do my hair? Think some television stylist can do a better job than I can?”

  For once I wasn’t excited about talking about the salon or hairstyles or Cecilia and her show. The only thing I seemed capable of thinking about was Eve and that look she gave me. Still, I managed to say, “Yeah, I think you should try it.”

  “Maybe,” Mom said thoughtfully. “Or maybe you can style it for me.” I knew she was only trying to cheer me up. For a brief moment I did think about styling Mom’s hair. Then I pushed the thought out of my head. Talk about pressure.

  “Mickey, I think that’s enough butter, honey,” Dad said.

  I looked down at the plate in front of me. I’d slathered butter on the slices as if I were laying bricks. “Sorry, Dad,” I said. Dad slid the plate away from me. He winked, which forced a smile on my face. With the smallest gesture, he could get me.

  “Mickey,” Mom began. “I’ve actually been wanting to talk to you all weekend.”

  Okay, nothing good ever came out of Mom wanting to talk to me on the heels of talking about the salon. Never. Still, I turned to face her even though I had no idea what I’d done this time.

  “The salon is doing outstanding,” she began. “Everyone’s been in such great spirits, the town has really rallied around us, and like I said, business is up. I have you to thank for all this. I know I was skeptical at first about the reality show, but I see now how much it’s paying off. So I wanted to reward you.”

  “Really?” I asked, curious. Mom was so strict about her salon that I just assumed that anything good I did was expected. Like, I shouldn’t expect a reward for something I was supposed to be doing already.

  “I’ve spoken with Giancarlo,” she continued, “and he’s agreed to let you be his assistant for an afternoon or two, if you’d like. You’ll just be doing basic stuff, like getting things he needs, but I thought you could also spend the time learning more about how he styles, how he got started—whatever questions you might have for him.”

  “Seriously?” I asked. I was shocked. This wasn’t a little reward. This was huge! Mom knew I wanted to be a professional stylist, but I didn’t think she’d let me do any training at her salon until high school, maybe. Now I wondered if Mom finally thought I had something real to bring to the salon, a know-how or talent. Like maybe all I needed was just a little more education and experience. That meant more to me than just about anything.

  “I’m very proud of you,” she said. “Just make sure you keep up your regular duties—okay?”

  “Okay,” I said. “I will.” I smiled—my first real smile since seeing Eve at Farm Fresh.

  Maybe things were looking up. Praise from Mom didn’t come easily. And this was basically giving me an all-access pass to her salon and employees. I wondered if now was the time to push forward with Eve, too, and stop dancing around the real issue. Yes, I had messed up royally, but if she still wanted to be friends then we should be friends, right? A break didn’t help that. I mean, what did she need space for if she wanted to still be friends? I decided I needed to talk to the only person I knew who might have the answer—my best friend, Jonah.

  CHAPTER 5

  “I didn’t see you all weekend,” Jonah said as we walked to school the next morning like we did most mornings. “What’d you do?”

  “Not much,” I said as I adjusted the top of my wide-neck, marigold blouse. “Just worked at the salon. Hung out with Kristen and Lizbeth on Saturday.” Without Eve, I wanted to add, but I knew I had to ease him in. Boys. They never understood what we were saying, let alone not saying.

  “Cool,” he said.

  “Yeah. I guess. It was kind of weird, though,” I continued. When Jonah didn’t say anything or even glance at me, I said, “You know, because Eve wasn’t there Saturday night. I wonder how much longer she’s going to be mad at me.”

  Hint, hint, nudge, nudge, shake him by the shoulders. Hey, he wasn’t my best friend for nothing. I was entitled to ask questions.

  Jonah didn’t say a word, just squinted into the sun through the trees, avoiding me entirely.

  “Come on, Jonah. Has she said anything to you about me at all?”

  Finally he shook his head. Communication! “No, she hasn’t.”

  “Ar
e you sure? Not one word? If she’s said anything, you have to tell me,” I pressed. There could be some meaning behind something she said that he wouldn’t think anything of.

  “She hasn’t said a word, Mick. I swear.”

  “Nothing?” I asked, my mood deflating.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  I didn’t think it was possible but I felt worse knowing that she hadn’t even asked or said anything about me. Like she wasn’t even thinking about me or missing me.

  “But honestly, we didn’t talk much this weekend,” he said, seeing how disappointed I was.

  “Was she busy or something?” I asked. I wanted to know about her new friend, but knowing that she hadn’t thought about me at all made me feel so bad I couldn’t imagine that hearing about the other girl would help anything.

  “We both had other plans. Kyle and I skated and went to the movies on Saturday and she was out with some friend on Sunday. That’s all I know, I promise.”

  Some friend. There it was. She hadn’t been with a cousin or a long-lost sister recently returned from an evil stepfather. (Okay, I know that was reaching.) Eve had a new friend. She’d moved on from me.

  “Yeah, no—it’s not a big deal,” I said, trying not to sound desperate.

  “Hey, you should come over tonight or something. I’ve got a new game that I know you’d kill on.”

  “Is Kyle coming over?”

  “No,” he said. “I meant just us. We haven’t hung out in a long time.”

  He was right—it had been forever. Or, more specifically, since Eve became his girlfriend and Kyle became my . . . whatever he was. I still wasn’t sure. Truthfully, I missed Jonah. I may be a girl who loves a good hairbrush, but I also go crazy for blowing up video game aliens.

  “That’d be fun,” I said, feeling a little better at his offer. “Let’s do it.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Better prepare yourself for a whopping.”

  “Please.” I smiled. “So, you and Kyle hung out this weekend?”

  “Yup,” he said. And then, nothing.