Page 7 of Waiting for a Prince (Island Tales #1)

Chapter Five

When his phone chimed for the third time that Tuesday morning, Mark smiled.

He knew what to expect. Sam had sent him a couple of jokes earlier that had him spluttering coffee into his cereal.

It was now eleven and the salon was quiet, so he was taking advantage of the lull to grab his break.

Mark had thrown himself into his tasks as soon as he’d arrived, and Marie had watched him with an expression on her face he’d never seen there before. He snickered to himself.

Oh yeah—that would be approval.

“Mark, you got a minute?” Sonia stood in the doorway of the little staff room off the back of the salon, wearing her habitual cheery smile.

He drained the last of his tea. “Sure. What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got an hour or so before my next lady arrives, so I was wondering… Do you want to cut my hair?”

Mark stared at her. “Really?” Marie hadn’t let him near a single customer with a pair of scissors since he’d arrived. He’d washed hair, swept up, coloured hair extensions and made numerous cups of tea and coffee, but nothing that resembled the stuff he’d been doing at college.

She nodded, her eyes bright. “Come on, you can wash my hair first and then we’ll work out what you’re going to do with it.” She winked. “You’re gonna make me look fabulous!”

Mark grinned and followed her to the wash station. After he’d draped and fastened a towel around her, he started to wash her dark red hair. He remembered to do the head massage that he’d watched Wendy doing so many times. The customers really seemed to like it.

“Hmm, you have a nice touch, Mark.” Mark glowed at the words of praise. “So, are you going to tell me what’s put that smile on your face this morning?” She gasped. “Or is it more a case of who ? You met someone this weekend, didn’t you?” There was a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Come on, spill.”

Mark laughed quietly. “No… well, yes… but it’s not like you think.

” Sonia’s forehead wrinkled. “Yes, I met someone, but he’s not a potential boyfriend—more’s the pity.

He’s more like a potential best friend.” He figured that was a fair assessment of Sam.

“And you know him. You met him on Saturday when he was here with his girlfriend.”

Sonia’s eyes grew large and round. “Mr. Fantabulous? The gorgeous hunk who ticked all your boxes?” She stared up at him. “Oh, you’ve got to tell me how this all happened.”

Mark chuckled as he rinsed off the shampoo and applied the conditioner.

There were no other customers at the wash station and Marie was nowhere in sight.

He lowered his voice and told Sonia all about the morning at the beach.

She listened in rapt attention, making the odd little noise here and there.

When he’d finished, she gave him a warm smile.

“Sweetie, I’m so glad. I think you needed a friend.”

Mark had to agree with her. He had lots of acquaintances—people he knew from school, his neighbours, the girls at the salon—but no real friends.

And whose fault is that?

Being painfully shy really sucked. And if he was going to be as good a hairdresser as Sonia, it was something he’d have to work on.

He wrapped a towel around Sonia’s head and led her to her own chair. As he looked at her smiling face in the mirror, surrounded by damp, straggly hair, Mark found himself nervously rubbing his hand down his pant leg.

God, don’t screw this up …

Sonia’s gaze met his. “You’ll be fine .” Her tone brimmed with confidence.

Mark’s returning nod was nowhere near as confident.

For the next twenty minutes, Mark clipped, snipped and combed her hair, always conscious of Sonia watching him carefully in the mirror.

There had been the heart-stopping moment when Marie had appeared beside him, her eyes wide.

She opened her mouth to say something—and judging by the twist of her lips, it wasn’t going to be good—but Sonia got in there first.

“I thought it was about time Mark showed us what he’s made of,” she said brightly, watching Marie in the mirror.

“I know I didn’t ask you about doing this, but I figured that as the senior stylist here, it was my decision.

” Both Sonia and Mark watched for Marie’s reaction.

Mark held his breath. Marie could make life difficult for Sonia if she wanted to.

Sonia had come to the salon about a month after Mark, and Marie had been delighted to steal her from Snippets, the very popular salon at the foot of Union Street.

Having Sonia was a real feather in her cap, because Sonia’s ladies were a loyal bunch. When she left Snippets, so did they.

Marie pressed her lips together and eyed Sonia’s hair with interest. “Well, since he’s obviously doing such a good job, we’d better let him finish.” She smiled thinly and walked away.

Mark regarded Sonia in the mirror, open-mouthed. He bent down and spoke into her ear.

“Did I just imagine that, or did Marie actually say I was doing a good job?”

Sonia clutched her ample chest. “I may faint,” she whispered, eyes sparkling mischievously. They both laughed quietly.

At last Mark was finished. He laid down the hairdryer and gave Sonia’s hair a final comb-through.

He was especially proud of the waves that cascaded over her shoulders: he’d never used a straightener to make waves before, but he’d watched Sonia do it time and time again.

He held up the large round mirror to the back so she could see how it looked, and then held his breath as she inspected the finished effect with a critical eye.

“Mark, that’s a really nice job.”

Mark expelled his breath in one long push of air. “Really?”

Sonia’s eyes met his. “Sweetie, I wouldn’t lie about something so important. You did well. Now go get your phone and take a picture. One for your portfolio.” She beamed. “I can’t wait until Stewart sees this tonight.”

Mark’s chest swelled with pride, and relief swamped him.

I didn’t screw it up.

The rest of the morning was very pleasant, as the girls stopped by wherever he was working at the time to comment on Sonia’s hair.

Even Marie had a smile for him. It was his best day at the salon by far.

When Marie finally locked the door at five thirty and everyone drifted off in different directions, it was a very happy Mark who walked home, his heart light.

Maybe this job will work out after all.

As he reached the front door of his building, his phone chimed. It was Sam.

Sam: Day over ?

Beaming, Mark typed a reply. Best ever .

Sam: Cool .

Yeah, it was , Mark thought as he climbed the stairs to his second floor flat. He’d just got through his front door when the phone rang. Sam. Mark smiled as he connected them.

“So what was so good about today, then?” Sam’s cheerful voice filled his ear as he switched on the kettle for a much-needed mug of coffee.

“I finally got to cut someone’s hair,” he announced triumphantly.

“And I take it she isn’t going to sue?” Mark could hear the teasing note in Sam’s tone.

“Cheeky sod.” Mark dropped a spoonful of instant coffee into the mug and shifted impatiently from one foot to the other as he waited for the kettle to boil. “I’ll have you know, Sonia looked fantastic. And I got compliments.” The memory brought his grin back.

Sam laughed. “Okay, I believe you. Sounds like you had a better day than I did.”

Mark’s grin slipped. “Why? What happened?”

“Oh, not much. I was battling with code all afternoon and it was driving me nuts.”

Mark let out a relieved sigh. “Is that all? You had me worried for a sec.”

Sam chuckled. “So me struggling with a stupid program isn’t worth worrying about? Nice to know where I stand.” That teasing tone was still in evidence. “Anyway, I only rang to ask you if you wanted to meet up on Friday night. I’m planning on going to the fireworks. Want to join me?”

Mark blinked. “They’re back on?” The last time he’d seen the official Cowes Week fireworks display had been in 2019. They’d cancelled the regatta the following year due to Covid, and when it returned in 2022, fireworks hadn’t been part of the entertainment.

No Red Arrows either.

“Yup. The Waverley Park Holiday Centre is putting on a display on Friday, starting about nine-thirty. So I wondered if you fancied meeting me there.”

Sam’s invitation was the icing on the cake, as far as Mark was concerned. “Yeah, that sounds good. I can catch the bus from Ryde. That way, I can get a few pints down.”

“In which case, I’ll meet you in front of the Royal Yacht Club at seven. The beer tent will be there, and the marquee with the live music. Should be good. The Hamsters are playing.”

Mark couldn’t believe it. “You like the Hamsters too? They’re great. I’ve heard them live two or three times now.” The Hamsters was a tribute band, specializing in the music of Jimi Hendrix and ZZ Top.

“Yeah? Fantastic.” Mark could hear the smile in Sam’s voice. “I’ll let you get on with your evening, seeing as you’ve just finished work, and I’ll see you Friday.”

Mark thanked him and hung up. As he poured boiling water onto the coffee, he smiled to himself. A great day at work—and a great Friday night to come.

My life seems to have taken a sudden turn for the better.

Sam stared at his monitor.

I should call it a day.

Except he wouldn’t do that, not when he’d achieved so little.

Another hour…

If it was a toss-up between working, or finding more jokes and memes to send to Mark, he knew which one he’d choose.

When his phone buzzed, there were three possibilities as to who was calling.

Only one of them was welcome.

He glanced at the screen. Rebecca. Damn .

Ignoring it was not an option.

“Hey. Have you had a busy day?”

“I’m on the FastCat, heading to Ryde. Julia, Suzanne and I went to London, shopping.”

Sam chuckled. “You couldn’t find what you wanted at West Quay, or Gunwharf Quays?” Granted, the island wasn’t the place to live if one were a shopaholic, but Southampton and Portsmouth more than made up for what the island lacked.

As soon as he said the words, he could almost feel the phone ice up in his hand.

I just put my foot in it. Again.

“ You might be happy to shop in those malls, but I’m not. I mean, can you really see me shopping at John Lewis? Or Marks & Spencer?”

Sam’s mum loved M&S, so he thought it best to keep his mouth shut.

“Anyway, the reason I’m calling is, Dad is going to Cowes Friday night, as it’s the last night of Cowes Week. I thought it might be fun if we joined him. Not that we’ll be able to hear each other—there’s a band playing.”

His heartbeat raced. “Actually, I’d already planned on meeting a friend there.”

“Well, you can say hello to your friend, then join us. I’m sure having a glass of champagne at the Royal Yacht Club would be infinitely preferable to drinking beer from a plastic pint pot while your eardrums bleed.”

“Does that invitation include my friend?”

Sam had a feeling he already knew the answer to that one.

“Members only. You’re only allowed in because Dad is… well, Dad.” Rebecca made an impatient noise. “Do I tell Dad you’ll be there or not?”

“I’ll meet you there, all right?”

That was all Sam was willing to commit to at that point.

Rebecca huffed. “I was going to suggest coming to see you this evening, but now I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. You seem to be in a mood, and that means I’d probably end up in a bad mood too.”

No probably about it.

And if Sam was in a mood, Rebecca was the cause of it.

“I’m still working,” he told her. “I don’t think I’d be good company.”

“And it’s not as if we’d be doing anything, other than watching TV, is it?”

Rebecca’s sly dig brought home to him the utter ridiculousness of his predicament.

“Rebecca… How much longer is this going to continue?”

There was a pause. “Until Dad is convinced. Until I say so. But you have nothing to complain about. The longer we’re together, the safer you are. Isn’t that right?”

She knew damn well it was.

Rebecca Trent had him by the balls, and what made it worse?

She had claws.