Page 2 of An Epic Voyage (The Epic Beauty Salon Files #1)

I ndigo Adair shook the blow-dryer with a diffuser attached under Mavis Hern’s shorter locks, fluffing the silvery curls.

The new style emphasized the texture of Mavis’s hair and complemented the shape of her face.

She had developed permanent ridges where she’d rolled her wet hair tightly into a bun for so many years.

Cutting it had been the only way to eliminate the awkward creases.

Indy wasn’t sure she’d be able to convince the older woman to try the stylish cut. It was a drastic departure from her usual look. Thankfully, she’d given in and let Indy work magic with her scissors.

Indy switched off the dryer, stashed it into the holding cup, and tugged off Mavis’s black barber cape, shaking the shorn tresses to the floor. Mavis hadn’t wanted to watch as Indy trimmed the long hair she’d grown out for years. “Are you ready, Mavis?”

Mavis took a deep breath. “No. Yes. Okay. Let’s see it.”

Indy swung the chair around to face the mirror.

Mavis gasped and pointed at her reflection. “Who is that?”

“That’s you.”

“No. It can’t be.” She turned her head to the right and left. Ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh my, who knew I had curls?” She preened in the mirror. “Indy, you are a miracle worker. Why, I look ten years younger.”

“Like a teenager,” Indy agreed.

“Oh, you,” Mavis twittered. The woman was well past retirement age, but the cut had shaved years off, softening her face and making her look a decade younger. “I love it. Thank you for taking me out of my comfort zone, Indy.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You know, my grandson Travis is coming to town next week. As I’m sure I’ve told you, he’s a successful lawyer. I’d love for you to meet him.”

Mavis and her squad of female friends constantly tried to set Indy up on dates. She’d resorted to inventing a long-distance boyfriend to distract them, but even that didn’t deter their matchmaking ways.

“I’m happy you get to see him, but I’ll have to respectfully decline.”

“Now, Indy, you can’t be satisfied never getting to see your man. A woman has needs, you know.”

She did. Her needs hadn’t been met in a long time. She’d been too focused on her job. “I am completely content with the relationship. Besides, he’s a marine, off saving the country.”

“And that’s very admirable. Thank him for his service the next time you speak with him.

” Mavis slid out of the chair and peered into the mirror again, patting her hair.

“With this new look, maybe I’ll hit the bars and prowl around for a young stud.

I would make a good cougar.” She raked her hand in a cat-like gesture. “ Me-ow .”

Indy laughed. “You would, but what would George have to say about that?”

Mavis wrinkled her nose at the mention of her husband of fifty-plus years. “He’d probably be happy to be rid of me.”

Indy smiled. George adored his wife, even driving her to her appointments and waiting for her in the car. He would most definitely not be happy to let her go, and Mavis knew it.

Indy walked her to the front desk, where Iris Hinton was training a new receptionist. Going by past appointments, Mavis would leave her a more-than-generous tip.

“Now, Indy, if you decide you want to meet Travis, you just let me know.”

“I’ll do that.”

She waved goodbye and returned to her station as her watch beeped. She picked up the automatic broom, which swept hair into a central vacuum system, and cleaned around her chair. It made tidying up quick and easy.

As Indy removed her apron, she glanced at two of her coworkers, Piper Peraino and Chelsea Delarosa. Piper was applying makeup to a brunette teenager about to go on her first date while Chelsea gave a customer a French manicure.

Indy was proficient in both areas as well. Chelsea and Piper were Kelly and Sabrina to her Jill. Yes, in her head, she’d named each of them after the original Charlie’s Angels . Whenever she’d role-played during childhood, she’d always insisted on being Farrah Fawcett’s character—her favorite.

Indigo placed her smock on a hook and pushed through the half-doors that led to the back of the salon. Elinor Cooper, one of the part-time workers, was leaving the break room.

“Hey, Indy. You finished for the day?”

“Hi, Elinor. I am.”

“Can I ask a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Can you show me where we keep the purple hair dye? That place is so massive, I couldn’t find it.”

“Sure.”

Indy led Elinor to the supply room, where they kept everything: brushes, nail polish, makeup, moisturizer, toner, shampoo, and conditioner, as well as T-shirts, hats, and other assorted merchandise available for sale at the front of the salon.

She navigated the shelves to the hair dye aisle.

“Which color? We have lilac, magenta, icy purple, periwinkle, dusty mauve, amethyst, violet, and plum.”

“Good grief. Who knew there were so many shades? Amethyst sounds good.”

Indy handed it to Elinor. “They’re all here next time you need them.”

“Thanks so much. I totally overlooked them.”

“No problem. See you later.”

Indy waited for Elinor to return to the floor before heading to the elevator at the back of the room.

Her loft was on the fourth floor of the six-story building.

Piper lived on the third, and Chelsea on the second.

Jackson Rushing, their co-boss, used the fifth floor when he was in town.

Evangeline occupied the penthouse level.

Indigo, Piper, and Chelsea had played Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine which floor they would occupy.

The only difference among the three suites was the height of the view.

There was another elevator at the front of the building, but this one was special.

Indy used her handprint to open the doors.

Once inside, she placed her chin on a pad and let the laser scan her retina.

Instead of rising, the lift descended. The trip to the lower level took seconds.

She stepped into the lush private lair known as Epic.

The name had been the brainchild of Evangeline Charvet, her boss, and the E in Epic.

Indy was the I, Piper the P, and Chelsea the C.

Jackson had unfortunately been left out, but he didn’t mind.

Besides, J was a hard letter to incorporate.

So much had changed for Indy in the last few years, including her career goals.

At one time, she thought she’d be a politician, with her eye on becoming a senator, maybe even president.

She wanted to write legislation to help underprivileged children, just as she’d once been.

Instead, her life had taken a drastic turn that spring morning Evangeline Charvet suddenly appeared in her life.

Somehow, Evangeline had convinced Indigo to accept the job. It had taken a leap of faith to abandon her career goals and impulsively follow her, especially since it all sounded so unbelievable at the time. There had been more than one panic attack for fear she was making a huge mistake.

Indy had graduated that May with honors and headed directly to Washington, D.C., to undergo extensive training. She might’ve gone crazy if not for Piper and Chelsea. They came from similar backgrounds and had bonded instantly. They were the sisters she’d always wanted.

Indy walked across the plush carpet and started the motion to rap on Evangeline’s door, but her hand froze inches from contact.

She heard heated voices inside. Evangeline and Jackson’s offices were fronted with glass but outfitted with built-in blinds that could be pulled to provide privacy.

They were closed now. She couldn’t see inside.

“Come in, Indigo,” Evangeline called out. Of course, she’d know when someone entered their secret lair. Cameras were installed at all the egress points.

Indy entered to see Jackson Rushing leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. Evangeline’s face was flushed. They’d obviously been arguing, which was a given when they were in the room together. Though neither spoke of it, Indy was positive there was a history there.

Jackson was their liaison with the White House. Indy wasn’t sure of the pecking order. Sometimes she thought Jackson was the boss, other times Evangeline. They’d never explained it, and no one asked. The arrangement worked . . . until it didn’t. They fought like cats and dogs.

“Jackson,” she acknowledged with a nod. He did the same. “Hey, Evangeline. You buzzed?”

“I did. We have a job for you. It just dropped into our laps, so you have little time to prepare.”

“Not a problem.”

Most of their assignments worked that way. They were last-minute issues that needed to be addressed or cleaned up with no one else knowing, including the media. Nothing was too big or small for them to handle.

“You’ll be taking a trip on Benedict Van Houten’s yacht,” Evangeline announced.

Indy’s eyes widened. “The playboy billionaire?”

“One and the same,” Jackson acknowledged.

Benedict Van Houten was an enigma. He hadn’t been born with money.

He was self-made. How he amassed his fortune was a mystery.

Handsome and charming, the media and paparazzi adored him, so they overlooked his sketchy history.

Reporters’ questions were often superficial and frequently centered on his very public love life. He’d become something of a cult icon.

It was a sad commentary on the state of the world when a person was worshiped because of their obscene bank account, not because they were working to discover a cure for cancer or devising a plan to eradicate child hunger or any of the millions of other noble causes.

“Sounds intriguing,” said Indy.

Evangeline shook her head. “Unfortunately, it won’t be a pleasure cruise.”

“We have it on good authority that Van Houten has recently acquired a Cold War-era Soviet Union nuclear warhead from a Russian spy,” Jackson revealed.

“Wow.” A nuke. That was the big leagues. “So, Van Houten isn’t the carefree philanderer he claims to be?”