The Cuttist

Cindi averted her eyes and bit her lip as Joseph took a seat at her salon station. She wished that this week he would finally notice the flutter of the butterflies in her chest.

Uh-oh, here he is, Cindi mused in a blink. His black 5-Series knifed perfectly parallel into the spot out front. While he paid the meter she nonchalantly shouldered off her cardigan to show off one of the daring halters she saved for his appointments. A quick wiggle and a tug set her mini-skirt, and a hurried fluff boosted her dark waves in the mirror. From his station Sam raised his eyebrows at her. She gave him a funny “oh no” grimace and switched back to her best smile as the bell on the door jingled. “Hi, Joseph.”

“Cindi. Am I late?”

He knew he was never late. All of the spots she hoped would catch his gaze warmed as his eyes so briefly touched upon them. Wow, she almost let her lips make the word. That big shot suit and smile. “You’re clockwork. I just finished prep for your appointment.”

Cindi stopped breathing as he neared. After months of stylist/client restraint, this was it. Three weeks ago, she’d set him up with a perfect taper cut with some spikey on top. Hottt. The week after, a low fade with a smart side part. A GOD. Last week a high fade with a wavy quiff on top. O. M. G. And in a reckless violation of protocol, she’d handed him his credit card wrapped in a receipt planted with a voluptuous lipstick kiss, smiley faces, and a note: “Let’s go out sometime — XOXO — Cindi.”

And this week he was back!

After a few moments he gave her a curious look and asked, “Shall I take a seat?”

“Oh, of course.” She unfolded a bib and draped it over him. She gave him another few moments… Nothing. Finally she leaned her curviest parts near him and said, “Um, did I remember to give you your receipt last week?”

“Huh.” He gave it some thought. “I think so… But I don’t usually keep them. Why?”

“Well,” she persisted, hoping she saw a glimmer of a smile. “I was just thinking, maybe today we could do something a little different-”

“Exactly. Could you do something disruptive here in front?” He gave her a wink that made her heart flutter. “I’ve got a super hot engagement tonight.” With an apologetic smile he whispered, “Power blonde, and a little intimidating. She’s got game changing-” he made a Big Boobs gesture with his hands and rolled up his eyes.

“Oh.” Cindi forced her lips to keep smiling. With a deep breath and the right posture she could have happily pressed herself into his hands and mostly filled the volume he indicated. But a power blonde she wasn’t. “Well, Joseph, you have nothing to be intimidated about.”

“I hope to leverage all the horsepower you bring to the table, Cindi. This could be the big one, and the right hair could be the vehicle to seal the deal. Her name is Victoriana Wilson.”

His business buzz talk was as hot as ever, but the way he breathed that obnoxious name iced the smile from Cindi’s face. She forced it back on. He sighed and his eyes melted in a longing trance. Cindi realized she probably acted just like this with him — why didn’t he notice? She cleared her throat. “We could do bangs, maybe. Or we-”

His phone rang and he held up a finger. Conference call time. Maybe he didn’t notice her because he spent so much of his session time on the phone. Cindi loved his high-powered babble. “This reinforces the need to drive some clarity across the broader org… leverage all brands in the portfolio… anti-trust is an ongoing conversation…”

As she adoringly washed, clipped, and shaved, she contemplated scalping him with a grotesque bald spot to take him off the market. But before she knew it, she’d done his bangs with the cutest of swirls and turned him into pure majesty, again. Dammit.

He left the usual big tip and was still on the phone as he sped off in his slick German machine. Cindi had the same model, in white, but she kept it out of sight. It was good practice to keep her talent’s more extravagant rewards where customers couldn’t see them.

Sam Chuckled as he organized hair tools at his chair. “Cindi, your client has you quite smitten.”

She twisted her lips as she meticulously cleaned up every strand of Joseph’s hair. She couldn’t have it mixing with anyone else’s. “I know I shouldn’t, but with him I can’t help it.”

“You’re a beautiful girl. It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

She wished she would.

They worked for a couple of hours, and the setback with Joseph faded a bit. Near closing time the bell jingled and Cindi looked up to see a striking woman burst in. Her body bounced to a stop between their stations.

“Rush job with a big tip for the best one in here.” She considered Sam for a moment. “Bald guy with earrings? Gay, right? My last stylist was gay, only so-so doing hetero — no offense.”

Cindi almost laughed but bit her lip in time. Sam had a happy wife and two kids at home. He twinkled his eyes at Cindi for an instant then smiled at their new customer. It was his policy to let clients think whatever they wanted, just as long as they came back and kept tipping. Hey, it was West Hollywood.

She turned and blatantly appraised Cindi from top to bottom, and back again. Cindi suddenly wished she’d replaced her cardigan. A microsnarl flashed on her lips before she snapped her fingers in Cindi’s face. “You. Make this happen. I’m telling you up front — do me up right. $5 off your tip for each strand of hair you drop on this dress.”

She sat without invitation. Her unquestionably rubber chest and spectacularly gym-toned figure stuffed her dress drum-tight. It was gorgeous, though, with a colorful geometric pattern that was great on the curves. Cindi was about to ask where she got it, but-

“Trim the splits. Roots gone, tone them perfectly to match the rest of the blonde. Eight-inch extensions and eyebrows better match, too. You’ve got forty-five minutes, girl. Go.”

Cindi glanced quickly at Sam. He grinned and shrugged. She dove in.

In half an hour Cindi’s face actually glowed with perspiration, and Miss Silicone got chatty. “I’m a barred attorney in three states, but why bother, right? For sure I’m getting a $500 dinner out of just this one guy tonight. And a big O — he’s hot, best hair ever. I could do this for ten more years and never go to the courtroom for a paycheck.”

“Mmm hmm,” Cindi muttered, acknowledging the dreadful monologue with occasional nods and grins. After a brisk final blowout and a couple of careful dry snips she said, “Whew. All done.”

She studied her reflection like some legal document. She checked her watch. “It’ll do. But that was 50 minutes. $10 off your tip.” She laid cash on the counter. The tip was fat regardless. She strutted to the door and that snarl flickered again before she left. “And go to the gym for those arms.”

Drained, Cindi watched the street for a minute.

“Wowww,” Sam chuckled.

She grumbled, “I do go the gym for these arms.”

The following week Joseph was back in Cindi’s chair. She had on her bravest top and skirt. He barely noticed. “I can’t thank you enough. The hair was clutch and Victoriana was incredible.”

“Great,” she bubbled as if her heart didn’t ache.

“Cindi, my ask tonight is for hair that will really move the needle with her.” He opened a long velvet box. “And here’s my follow-through.”

Cindi gasped. The necklace erupted with gold and diamond sparkles, and three huge, gleaming pearls. He’d spent as much as a generous down payment on another 5-series. “It’s amazing. But, Joseph-”

“I know, I know. We’re just a few dates in. But this girl…” He sighed. “She’s so confident. So funny. She could be The One. After this, my guy at Glitter Exchange has already got some really great rings put aside. Just in case.”

“Whoops,” Cindi mumbled. The comb in her hand had just snapped in half. She got another.

Joseph leaned back and moved his fingers through his hair. “Give me the best you got, Cindi.”

She wished those words arrived in a more intimate context. This would be the time, but her heart wouldn’t let her intentionally spoil his hair. She worked with a lump in her throat, sculpting a skin fade with a hard part and tousling the top. Ultimate perfection. She sighed. It was the best she had.

He thanked her with a huge tip. His smile stole her breath, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. In the stillness of his absence she hid her hurt by taking extra time to pick up every lock from his head. Sam and the other stylists respectfully kept quiet for the afternoon.

The bell jingled and heels clacked quickly. They stopped at Cindi’s chair. Great, it was Miss Silicone, sneering with her grill of arctic white teeth. “I have a no-fail date tonight, missy. You’ll do a loose side bun — lots of volume — get it right. In front copper lowlights and a side part into the cutest swirled bangs you’ve probably never done. You better bring it. Double tip if you get it right, or none.” Her fingers went snap.

“All right, so let’s get set up,” Cindi murmured as she put a diligent face on and arranged her station.

She grimaced for an instant when she saw that Cindi’s skirt was as short as hers. She bounced onto the chair and crossed her arms. “No crap work this time. I won’t have it. Get going.”

Cindi worked in silence for a while. When her client noted that things were going well with the dye foils, she took out her credit card. “Save me some time and run this while these lowlights set. Keep on it — if you get a tip it’ll be cash.”

Cindi was glad to move even 10 feet from her. She punched up the style and color and ran the card. Her throat tightened. Cardholder: Victoriana Wilson.

As she removed the foil and rinsed, Cindi clenched her jaw and tried to blink away lewd thoughts of this woman with Joseph. She pulled a few curves into the bangs with her flatiron, and Victoriana was pleased enough to turn on another monologue. “So I’ve got last week’s guy totally melted at this point. My confident-but-funny act eats him like a disease — case closed.”

Cindi didn’t bother covering her frown. Tears were probably next.

“My buddy at Glitter Exchange says that he’s gone in for the 3-pearl necklace for tonight — that’s a big one, like $12k. The arrangement is that I give a hint and a nudge about my Glitter Exchange contact, guys like VIP exec Joey gift me the assets, and I bring them back. My buddy and I split it 70–30, big half to me. I’ve taken that necklace through the rounds like five times.”

While Victoriana laughed Cindi put away her iron and got out a comb and her biggest pair of scissors.

“My buddy’s already got him lined up for a ring. Once he hands that over I disappear. $20k in the bank. It’s going by too fast.” She rolled her eyes with pleasure. “God, he’s the best I’ve had in a while.”

Cindi swallowed and combed out Viviana’s bangs.

“You know, girl, you don’t need to cower in this dump. We could cut you in at Glitter Exchange.” She sneered and waved at Cindi’s legs. “Just go to the gym for those thighs, too, and we’ll talk.”

Tears welling, Cindi tuned out her years as a stylist. She tuned out her license and time at cosmetology school. She tuned out every alarm flashing in her mind, and set the scissors high on Victoriana’s forehead. She went all the way back to her six-year-old self squeezing scissors for the first time. Eight inches of bangs avalanched down Victoriana’s face, onto her synthetic breasts, and sprinkled the floor.

The station detonated. The bib flew as Victoriana leapt from the seat, mirrors trembling with her scream. Spit and profanities spewed as she lunged and pinned Cindi against the counter. Tools and product scattered across the floor. Cindi cringed and prepared for her first-ever black eyes and split lips.

“Ladies!” Sam called, rushing over before any blows fell. “Ladies!”

Victoriana turned on him, fists tight. “She’s ruined everything. I can’t go anywhere like this — it’ll take months.” She put a finger in Cindi’s face and swore some more. “Huge mistake, missy!”

She shoved Sam aside and blasted out. The doorbell tumbled across the salon. Sam offered a shoulder as Cindi sobbed.

Sam had just switched the sign to closed when Joseph knocked. He came to Cindi’s chair.

“Cindi, what’s happened? Are you okay?”

“Bad day.” She barely produced a weak smile. The tiniest bit tipsy with his tie loose and suit rumpled, he radiated more hotness than ever. Cindi’s smile strengthened. “You too?”

He sat and put his face in his hands. “She stood me up. Then sent me a breakup text. A text, Cindi. I don’t know what I did — am I not good enough?”

“Maybe she’s not good enough.” She took a deep breath and fought down a sudden flock of butterflies. She put her shoulders back and said, “Maybe I am.”

He frowned a second before his eyebrows rose. He looked her up and down in a way that almost made her cheer. “Cindi. With your customer volume I thought you hardly noticed me.”

“You should read your receipts.”

“So…” A grin played on his lips. “What does my stylist have planned for me tonight?”

“Something better than Victoriana got. Her bangs are right there in the corner.”

His grin faltered.

“She was robbing you, Joseph. She had a deal with the Glitter Exchange guy.” She hastened when she saw him frown and straighten, “Um, it was totally random that she came in for extensions after you. The necklace. And the rings. It was a setup. Really. She said she does it all over town-”

Joseph’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a second. Are you trying to tell me that-”

“Every stylist here can vouch for it. Especially me,” Sam said. “The text you got from that shameful woman is the luckiest thing you’ve received today.” He winked as he headed home. “So far.”

The repaired doorbell jingled. Cindi and Joseph were alone.

Joe withered into the chair. “I can’t believe it, Cindi. I’m in a daze.”

“And I’ll probably get fired. I was thinking of opening my own salon anyways. She almost hit me.”

“She was quite a physical lady…” Joseph said.

“I can be physical, too.”

Again he looked at every part of her that she hoped he would. She thrilled inside.

His smile was returning. “So you rescued me.”

“Maybe I rescued me.” She moved close and gripped his hair the way no stylist should. She’d only ever dreamt of the way it would erupt between fingers and red nail polish. The satisfying reality of it was immensely better.

“Hey,” he said, laughing now.

“I’m actually doing this,” Cindi breathed. Something unbearably, wonderfully hot spread somewhere deep inside.

“Cindi. You’re serious?”

“I think we’re done with your hair, if that’s what you mean.” She was close enough for him to see her heartbeat.

“You haven’t even picked up a comb.” He grinned, pupils dilating. “How will you earn your tip?”

Miniskirt be damned. She put her leg over the chair and straddled him. The fabric bunched high and squeezed exquisitely — better than the way she’d imagined it. His hands were there already.

“I’ll earn mine,” she whispered in his ear. “How will you earn yours?”

Cover design:

F.P. Wilson