Chapter 5: Salon Showdown

Weekends usually meant going home, but I always stopped by Marcus’s parents’ salon for a hair wash—a ritual that felt like my small way of helping out.

After my appointment, the stylist at the front desk—Ashley, her name tag crooked—told me my prepaid card was empty. A hundred-thousand-dollar balance, gone after just a few visits? Something wasn’t adding up.

I frowned at Ashley, who flashed a customer service smile so fake it almost hurt. I recognized her from student council—she wore her badge like it was a medal.

When I questioned her, she looked me up and down, voice sugary but eyes hard. "Sorry, miss, your card’s empty. How would you like to pay?"

I reached for my phone, ready to call Marcus, but she snatched it from my hand, her nails scratching my skin. "People need dignity, you know. How can you mooch off Marcus’s parents, asking them to add a hundred grand to your card when you haven’t paid a dime?"

Her voice rose, and the whole salon went quiet, everyone pretending not to listen but totally eavesdropping. I felt every eye on me, like I was on trial.

I almost laughed at her audacity. So this was the culprit. She really thought I’d scammed the family for the card’s balance?

I kept my voice cool. "Are you that sure I didn’t pay real money for it?"

She rolled her eyes, tossing her head. "I work here now. It’s my job to protect the shop’s interests! Marcus works hard for his money, running his studio. I won’t let anyone take advantage—not even you! If you refuse to pay, I’ll expose you to everyone!"

She lifted her chin, acting like she was the salon’s own superhero. I was too tired to argue with someone so sure of her own story.

Marcus’s parents weren’t around—probably sorting inventory in the back. I picked up the salon’s landline and called Marcus directly.

I don’t know what he said to Ashley, but his voice got sharper and angrier as the call went on. My only demand was an apology—not for the money, but for the insult.

Ashley finally reappeared, mascara smudged, eyes rimmed red from crying. She shot me a glare so cold it could freeze fire, then stormed out, the bell over the door ringing in her wake.

As the door slammed behind Ashley, I realized this was far from over. People like her never let things go.