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Silence.
“Define full,” Annie said carefully.
Isabelle looked at both of them with the serene expression of a woman who had already made all the appointments and could not be talked out of anything. “Brazilian.”
Annie and Sage turned to look at each other.
Then they turned to look at Mary Sue.
Mary Sue was still stealing fries, utterly unbothered. “I did mine for the first time years ago. Best decision I ever made.” She popped another fry in her mouth. “You’ll thank her later.”
“MARY SUE—”
“Eat your burger, girls. You’re going to need your strength.”
The salon was beautiful — warm lighting, the clean scent of products mixed with something subtly floral, wide mirrors, and deep, comfortable chairs. Two stylists waited with gentle smiles. The manicure and pedicure stations gleamed invitingly.
This was fine. This was lovely. Sage settled into the shampoo chair and let someone else wash her hair for the first time in longer than she could remember. The feeling of warm water, skilled fingers working through her scalp, and the soft lather was so unexpectedly blissful she made a small, mortifying sound she would never admit to.
“Honey,” the stylist said warmly, “you can relax.”
“I am relaxed,” Sage said, approximately thirty percent relaxed.
“You can relax more.”
She relaxed more.
By the time her blowout was done — her dark hair falling in glossy, bouncy waves, the lavender streaks lifted and luminous against the black — she was so deeply boneless with contentment she almost didn’t notice the aesthetician appearing at Isabelle’s elbow.
“The waxing room is ready.”
Almost.
The screaming started with Annie.
In fairness, she had been warned. The aesthetician had been professional, clear, and thorough about the process, the hot wax, and the order of things. Annie had nodded with the confidence of a woman who had given birth twice and survived Montana winters.
She was, it turned out, a little afraid of this.
“HOLY—”
“Breathe—”
“I AM BREATHING, THAT’S WHAT THE NOISE IS—”
“You’re doing great—”
“I AM ABSOLUTELY NOT—”
From the waiting area, Sage and Isabelle listened to the sounds coming through the door.
Sage turned slowly to Isabelle.
“Do we have to do that?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like it really hurts.”
