Page 13 of Edge of Secrets (The Edge Trilogy #2)

Chapter Nine

Nell

“ S top right here, please.”

The cabbie screeched to a halt, hit the meter, and took my money.

I was spending a fortune on car services, Ubers, and cabs these days but, there was no help for it.

At least I could walk to work from here afterward.

The streets were busy enough now that I felt safe walking the rest of the way to the Sunset Grill.

Though I knew it was just a mind game. If Snake Eyes wanted to take me, he’d find a way. He’d found one with Nancy. Only Liam’s heroic efforts had saved my sister.

I pushed that thought resolutely away and looked at the hair salon with trepidation as the cab drove away.

I’d been circling the hair issue all morning.

I had stood in front of the bathroom sink for an embarrassingly long time before winding my hair back into its usual thick, fuzzy braid and twisting it into its usual heavy knot.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window of the salon, slid my glasses up the bridge of my nose, and took a long look. In light of recent revelations, I couldn’t lie to myself about this any longer.

I was hiding. Cowering behind the antique-looking glasses, the baggy dresses, the dowdy, frizzy hair, and the cowardly assertion that looking pretty was all vanity and nonsense, that I was a lofty scholar, too intellectual and above it all to care.

What a heap of steaming bullshit that was.

Ten lust-charged minutes with Duncan Burke in the stairwell had demonstrated to me that I cared passionately.

I couldn’t stand being at a disadvantage with that guy.

I needed every weapon possible at my disposal, to interact with him from a position of power and confidence.

That made me wince. There it was again—beauty as a tool, beauty as currency, beauty as a weapon, beauty as power.

That crass, chilly, ugly association was programmed into me so deeply.

I had deliberately chosen to be plain and unnoticeable because I just wanted to stay off the battlefield permanently.

But things changed. The battle had come to me. My choices were fight or run.

I was not running. Not this time.

I went into the salon, sniffing nervously at the unfamiliar scents of perfume, shampoo, chemicals. A slight, balding Latino guy with a gray pearl earring gave me a big, toothy smile. “What can I do for you today?”

“Do you take walk-ins?” I asked.

“When I feel like it.” His dark eyes narrowed as he assessed me from head to toe. “I happen to have room on my schedule this morning. Looks like it was meant for you. What do you have in mind?”

“Ah, well. I’m not really sure,” I said apologetically. I gestured at my head. “Just not, you know. This.”

“Hmmm. Yes, I can see why you feel that way. This is going to be fun. Get into the chair, and let’s have a look. I’m Riccardo, by the way.”

I was soon in a swiveling chair, swathed in a plastic cape, and Riccardo’s expert fingers were plucking out hairpins, unraveling my hair, and fluffing it up with coos of appreciation. “Good material here,” he commented, plucking off my glasses. “You ever consider contacts?”

I snorted. “I’ve been getting that a lot lately. Can you do something that’s easy to style? I work as a waitress, so I need to be able to easily pin it up in the back.”

“Oh, yes. I’m just going to shape this bit, thin it out here, lighten it up there. See?”

Of course I couldn’t see a thing, but Riccardo inspired confidence, so I went with it. The shampooing part was relaxing. The snipping part unnerved me. Without my glasses, my reflection was just a hopeful blur in the mirror.

Later, when I finally retrieved them, I stared at the result, mouth agape.

Riccardo had layered and shaped my frizzy, waist-length mop into a glossy halo of black ringlets that framed and flattered my face while still reaching halfway down my back in an artful taper.

I kept putting my unbelieving hands up to feel the softer, springier texture of the curls.

They felt so different, with all the goops and salves and waxes he’d massaged into them. Actual curls instead of frizz.

The price was staggering, but I passed over my credit card without protest. The only problem now were the glasses. With my new hair, they looked even goofier than before.

One step at a time, though.

My hair caused a sensation when I walked into the Sunset Grill.

Monica wolf-whistled, and Norma spun me around, looking at me from every angle.

“You look as gorgeous as I knew you would!” she exclaimed, her eyes wet.

“I just wish Lucia could see how pretty you look. She’d be so happy to see you all primped up at last.”

That made my eyes overflow. I hugged Norma tightly.

“Enough of this gooey sentimental stuff,” Monica said briskly. “Let’s get down to business. C’mere, Nell. I wanna put some makeup on you.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be prepping for lunch?” I asked plaintively as Monica dragged me to a chair.

“That’s all right, hon. I’ll pick up the slack,” Norma said indulgently. “How did that job interview go?”

“Oh. The job interview,” I hedged, as Monica tilted my face up and outlined my eyes with pencil. “Well, now. It was extremely interesting.”

“How so?” Norma asked, picking the chairs off the tables.

“You will never, in a million years, guess who it was who interviewed me,” I said.

Norma froze. Monica’s pencil stopped moving.

“No way, chica,” breathed Monica.

“You don’t mean to say ... nah. You’re putting me on, Nelly. I simply don’t believe it,” Norma said.

“Believe it,” I said.

There was an incredulous silence. I turned around to find Norma and Monica grinning at each other like fools.

“Did he ask you out?” Monica tilted my head back and brandished my eyeshadow sponge. “Did he come on to you? Did you kiss?”

The steamy sequence in the stairwell played through my mind in a timeless instant, and my face went beet red. “As if I would,” I lied. “I’ve barely met the man.”

“Well?” Norma said. “So try, try again! Take the bull by the horns, honey!”

“It’s not that simple,” I said. “He’s my boss now, and I’m meeting with him after my shift here to discuss the?—”

“My goodness, you mean he hired you? Mercy! Things move so quickly in this world for an old lady. And just this morning Kendra told me that she has an auto-immune disease. I already forgot which one. But alas, all’s fair in love and war.”

“Norma, you don’t understand.” I wiggled as Monica wielded her mascara wand “Monica, that tickles!”

“Hold still, chica. You’re making me smear. Lemme put some lipstick on you, and you can look at yourself.”

I headed to the bathroom afterward, and my reflection made me gasp. My eyes looked big and shadowy and luminous. The lipstick was a deep, sexy red. All turned out and made up, with my hair fluffed into that luxurious mane of black ringlets, I looked ...

Exactly like my mother. I stared at Elena Pisani in the mirror and gulped.

“What do you say, chica? Are you stunning, or are you stunning?”

I put on a big smile for my co-worker. “Yes. You’re an artist, Monica. Thank you.”

I pulled my glasses out of her apron and perched them on my nose.

Then I dragged out a hair clip to twist my hair into an updo.

It was so much easier to do now. My hair was lighter, the twist higher, the curls on top were higher, and the bits that dangled around my chin now looked sexily tousled, rather than the frazzled scullery maid look I had sported before.

“Do you have to wear the glasses?” Monica complained. “It ruins the effect!”

“I’m afraid so,” I said regretfully. “I’m blind without them, and the hair absolutely has to go up. No one wants my hair in their lunch, no matter how cute it looks.”

“Oh well. You still look way better than before. Strip Steak’s going to have a stroke when he gets a look at you.”

“His name is Duncan Burke, and it’s not going to happen. Ever,” I said, resolute. “He’s my boss now. I would not compromise a paying job.”

“Taboo!” Norma said, sticking her head in the bathroom door. “The tantalizing lure of the forbidden! Just look at you, honey. Good enough to eat. Strip Steak’s jaw will hit the floor. Have you thought about contacts, Nelly?”

I swept past them, chin high, and the two of them giggled like idiots.

But three-fifteen came and went with no Burke, and the afternoon fell as flat as a failed soufflé.

I still had the meeting after work to look forward to, though, and hanging in my garment bag was the oatmeal-cream sweater dress I’d bought for Nancy’s engagement party, by far the prettiest thing in my closet.

I pictured myself walking into Burke’s office in that subtly clinging dress, imagined his eyes on me, and shivered.

Yikes. Stop it. He was my boss. He was rude, arrogant, bossy, presumptuous, and handsy. Plus, he suffered from a profound lack of imagination, judging from his lunch habits. And he seemed to have a weird, fetishistic thing for my chubby knees. Weird.

Ergo, nothing doing. I was not going to complicate my life like that.

So why had I spent money I could ill afford on my hair? Why was my face all painted up? Why had I brought my tightest dress? I’d tricked myself out for what?

The afternoon passed slowly. At the end of my shift, I slipped unobtrusively into the back to change, but I needn’t have bothered sneaking.

Both Monica and Norma were lying in wait for me outside the door.

Monica grabbed my chin and freshened my lipstick by brute force.

“Good luck, chica,” she said. “Seize the day. Be bold.”

“And be careful, honey,” Norma said, her eyes misty.

“Oh! Speaking of careful! Don’t you dare forget.” Monica held up a three-pack of condoms, and stuffed them into my purse. “Safety is key!”

“You guys! For God’s sake! This is a professional project meeting, not an orgy!”