Page 57 of My Girlfriend is Not the Father

Her phone rang. She dug it out from her cross-body bag and read the screen.

Amanda.

‘Hey, lady, got a second?’

‘Sure.’ Jade slid her feet into her slippers and checked her watch. ‘What’s up? You’re not still at the salon, are you?’ The salon closed an hour ago, and if Amanda was still there, it meant that the stylists were not pulling their weight in cleaning. That had happened once last month, but after Jade gave them all a stern chat about being a team, she’d been under the impression that everyone had stepped up.

‘Yes, but it’s not what you think,’ Amanda said. ‘I forgot my laptop charger there. I have to finish an essay that’s due tomorrow morning, so I swung by to get it before heading to the library. And, uh, Shayna was there doing hair on a couple of people.’

Huh. ‘That’s weird. She doesn’t work Wednesdays.’ No matter, though. Jade allowed the stylists to use the facility for family after hours. Even Amanda had done that. But they usually just stayed longer on the shifts they were already working, as opposed to coming in after hours on their days off.

‘Jade … I, um, don’t think they were family.’ Amanda’s normally confident tone wavered.

The skin on Jade’s neck prickled. ‘How do you know?’ She lowered herself onto the sofa.

‘I recognised them as a couple of clients she used to have.’

The prickle spread and Jade’s heart dropped. Her internal organs were labouring double-time. There had to be an explanation. ‘Did you say anything?’

‘No, I didn’t know what to say. She just looked up when I got there and maybe looked a little sheepish? It’s hard to say. The space had such a funky energy, so I grabbed my stuff and split.’

A low but fierce throbbing had started in Jade’s temples. She jammed her knuckles into her forehead to release the pressure and exhaled a quick breath. ‘Thanks for letting me know. I’ll look into it.’

As soon as she disconnected the call, Jade propped her elbows on her knees and dropped her head into her hands. Dammit. What a shit night. Her former top employee was definitely up to something, she had no text messages from Lucy, and she was a month behind on quarterly reviews for her staff. The only thing that could make today worse was if her ex called.

Jade stormed into the kitchen and filled a glass with an Argentina Malbec, grabbed a block of cheese (don’t judge) and returned to the recliner. She snugged her favourite grey-and-white knitted blanket over her shoulders and stared out the window, the plate of food resting firmly on her crisscrossed legs. The fresh snow falling in the moonlight was beautiful, making the ground sparkle like white sapphires. She tried hard to focus on that and not the sick feeling that was rising in her chest.

The tart wine melted into a robust, velvety mix of plum and berry on her tongue, and the brie was a perfect offset. She savoured the creamy cheese, which she withheld from eating around Lucy, since she was avoiding almost all soft cheese right now. The cheese thing didn’t make much sense to Jade – like how many pregnancies were actually affected by cheese, but whatever. It made Lucy feel better to avoid it, so Jade supported her.

Yep, Jade was doing anything possible to avoid thinking about Shayna. She sipped from her glass and rolled the wine on her tongue. She was pretty sure she knew what had been happening with Shayna but didn’t want to face it. There was no chance that Shayna was doing that many re-dos. Confronting things like this head-on made Jade sick, but … she had to. I mean, she was the owner, dammit. The salon was her life, her career, her baby. Time to protect it.

Her night was ruined anyway. Between missing the bookstore opening, and the way she’d left things with Lucy, how much worse could it get? She grabbed the laptop and set it back on her legs. She had access to security footage from the salon but had never needed to review it. After multiple failed log-in attempts – and enough F-bombs to make a Gen X’er blush – she finally pulled it up.

She poured herself another glass of wine and scrolled through video after video. ‘Nothing …’

No weird activity, except for an oddly large amount of people who tried to peek through the window after hours.

Sip and scroll, sip and scroll. She sank her teeth into another chunk of buttery brie and stopped. A terrible sensation seized her chest. Her neck felt cold, then hot. She leaned in as she watched Shayna bouncing through the door, followed by several people. The footage was from 8 p.m. last Wednesday, an hour after the place closed.

Amanda was right – Shayna wasn’t with family. The man trailing Shayna was one of her clients, Tony. Not that Jade knew the names of all Shayna’s clients, but she remembered joking with Shayna about how much he resembled Justin Bieber.

The recliner squeaked as Jade edged forward, looking even closer at the screen. What the … she scrolled through the footage as the shop became alive until almost midnight. Five clients served. And not a single one was Shayna’s mom, sister, or brother – all of whom Jade would have recognised.

The wine gurgled in Jade’s belly. She frantically hit the back button, both hungry and terrified to find more incidents. Scrolling through videos, an icky voyeur-like feeling consumed her. Video after video of people laughing, chatting, hair flying on the floor, colour processing under the dome hair driers. Clients sitting in chairs, Shayna stuffing cash in her pocket, hugs shared for a job well done. Shayna going to the back room, cleaning, no fear on her face, just her usual smile as she wiped everything down, shut lights off, and locked the door.

An hour had passed. Jade’s glass was now empty, and half the cheese demolished.

I … can’t believe this. Every week, sometimes twice a week, for almost a year, Shayna had stolen from the shop.

Jade’s chin quivered as the screen spat out images of more clients, and more money shoved in Shayna’s pockets. The glass trembled in her fingers, and she wanted to throw it against the window. The betrayal hit deep, in a dark place that she hadn’t felt in such a long time.

‘Right in front of my face …’ The words sputtered out, quiet yet echoing against the bare wall.

How had she not seen this? Or … had she? Was there somewhere inside Jade that had suspected this? No, she couldn’t have ever guessed that this was what had been going on with Shayna. This was Jade’s livelihood, and she thought her stylists respected that. Her home, her business, her reputation. Sure, Jade skirted the rules about working on family after hours and she could have been fined, but that was a minimal risk. But with Shayna bringing in all these people … It wasn’t just about the lost profits. What if someone slipped on the floor and sued the shop? How much product had Shayna used? How many dollars had she taken right off the shelves?

Jade’s throat burned. Her fingers, clenching so tight against her palm, cramped. When Jade bought the salon, Shayna was her first hire. She even volunteered to get the place ready, coming in with cut-offs and bandanas, schlepping gigantic cups of bubble tea for her and Jade. With music blaring, she’d painted, cleaned, and organised the products side-by-side with Jade and laughed with her over cheese pizza and exhausted limbs. Shayna was the first friend-ish person Jade had made since her divorce.

Jade’s lip quivered again.