Page 7 of My Girlfriend is Not the Father

Jade continued to spray, wrap, and roll as Mrs Dieterman went through the lives of each of her grandchildren since their last visit. Spray, wrap, roll … She fought hard against zoning out with the methodical motions.

Activator applied, shower cap fastened, drier set, and Jade cleaned her station. She strolled to the front and joined Amanda – receptionist extraordinaire – to review the daily client list.

Amanda peeked up from her personal laptop propped next to the salon computer, no doubt studying for some exam Jade couldn’t even fathom taking. When Jade first hired her, Amanda spent every second of downtime dusting, rearranging products, even sweeping up for the stylists to keep herself busy during the slow times. When Jade learned Amanda had a full online college credit load for a criminology degree, she offered salon downtime to study.

‘Fun fact.’ Amanda stopped tapping the keyboard and patted the side of her hair. Today, she had her edges slicked into a row of swirls at the crown of her head with her hair pulled up into an Afro puff. Amanda wasn’t a hairstylist, but she had some serious skill when it came to doing her own hair. ‘Do you know a body will decompose slower in water than the air? Slower. Who knew?’

Jade ran her hand under the till in search of a highlighter. ‘Fun fact, huh? Thank you for using your personal laptop to google this stuff. All I need is the FBI raiding my salon thinking I’m planning a murder.’

‘That would be awful if a murder happened here. Awful.’ Amanda’s lips tugged into a smile. ‘But in case it did … you know you’d have to call me, right? For educational purposes, of course.’

‘Of course.’ Jade pulled out the vendor documents from the folder and tapped them against the counter. ‘I just think every few days you should sanitise your algorithm. Search cute baby elephant videos or new vegan ice cream shops or something.’

‘Oh! Yes.’ Amanda smacked her multilayered ring hand on the desk. ‘Elephants cause how many deaths per year? I bet more than we think.’

Jade shook her head with a grin. ‘Do you really need this information for your degree?’ What she would’ve given to have the smarts and confidence Amanda had at her age. Jade’s life probably would have looked different. Juvenile mistakes – vanished. Heartbreak – gone. She would have entered her marriage with an analytic mind and solid research, not with stars in her eyes and a foggy brain. And she would have saved herself a hell of a lot of heartache.

Amanda’s marble-decorated nails – that probably took hours for her to design – clicked against the keyboard. ‘You never know. I won’t be left hanging if this is on a test.’

‘Be honest. You’re the one sitting in the front row of the class, aren’t you?’ Jade pictured herself in high school, sliding into the very back seat so she could doze off if needed without the teacher noticing.

‘Hell, yes I am. I want to hear everything the teacher has to say.’ The salon phone rang. Amanda reached to pick it up as Jade returned to the computer.

A rebooking request for one of Jade’s regulars caught her attention. She scrolled through the screen to see if he had rescheduled when Amanda tapped her arm.

‘It’s for you.’

Jade didn’t have time to chat with a client or vendor. She had to check her schedule, take a bite of yogurt, and return to Mrs Dieterman. ‘Can you take a message?’

Amanda shrugged. ‘They said it’s urgent.’

Jade clocked the time. Six minutes before rinse time. Urgent or not, Mrs Dieterman’s hair had to be neutralised, or the rods would pop off with a very undesirable chemical haircut. She tucked the phone under her chin. ‘This is Jade.’

‘Hey, it’s me.’

That voice. Jade’s heart stopped beating for so long, she was sure she’d pass out. Darkness filled her periphery.

‘Can we talk?’

‘I told you to never contact me again.’ Jade slammed down the phone, hot air shooting from her nostrils.

Amanda’s wide, dark eyes searched Jade’s. ‘Everything okay?’

Nothing about hearing that voice was okay. Jade’s stomach knotted so tight, she thought she might be sick. She exhaled a shaky breath and gave Amanda a quick nod. ‘Yeah, just a vendor who won’t take no for an answer.’ She stormed away before Amanda could call her out on the obvious lie.

Chapter 3

Lucy

The canvas bag of cash piled in front of Lucy gave her a split-second pause. A scruffy, grey-haired man refused to loosen his grip for a solid minute. A gentle cash-hostage-negotiation followed until Lucy offered a soft smile and leaned forward. ‘You don’t have to give it to me if you don’t want to.’

She had a fleeting urge to scold the man, however, for stuffing it in his mattress all these years. What if his house caught fire? What if it was stolen? What about the interest rates! Those thoughts popped up as quickly as they exited. After working at the bank for over a decade, she’d seen it all. As her old boss always said, Follow the bank teller golden rule: Their business ain’t none of yours.

Once the man released his precious cargo, Lucy hip-bumped her work wife, Erica, as she made her way to the cash sorter. Erica blew at her sharp black fringe to keep it from swinging into her chunky brown glasses and gave Lucy a quick, knowing grin. When Erica started five years ago, she and Lucy bonded over vanilla yogurt, a love for crap reality television, and a deep affinity for customers like the man who had just handed her a bag of cash. Lucy told Erica most everything – but for some reason had not told her about the interaction at the grocery store with Jade. And right now, Lucy didn’t want to do a full self-reflection deep dive as to why not.

The clicking of the cash sorter sounded. She removed another stack and tapped it against the table. Whoosh, whoosh, click. A curled-up five-dollar bill stuck to a twenty. She scraped a tiny piece of tape off the edge of the bill and flattened it against the counter as her mind wandered back to Jade.

More than a week had passed since Lucy ran into Jade, but somehow, Lucy thought about their interaction every night. And most mornings. She’d even stopped by the grocery store a few times, hoping to bump into her. Which was kind of pathetic since their conversation had lasted less than five minutes. But she felt a smidge better that at least she hadn’t slipped into any sort of serious creeper-stalker territory and refrained from walking by Jade’s salon. For now.