Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I grab a pair of black peep-toe platform heels. Stepping into them, I take another look in the mirror. I sigh at my hair. Shrugging, I reach up to peel the unit off, revealing my braided, natural hair beneath.
I blow out a breath, letting my lips flap in exasperation. I may have been better off trying to tame the wig. I toss the wig aside on the vanity in the closet before reaching for the pins to release my hair.
“Excuse me, hello, Ms. James.” Comes from the bedroom.
My brows furrow as I move toward the sound of the voice. When I get into the main area of the bedroom, a thin chocolate girl stands nervously in the entryway. She gives me a small wave and matching smile.
“Hello, Mr. Hennessy was on a call. He told me to come up and find you.” She holds up a case. “I’m your hairstylist.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. I lift a brow as I think of Clayton’s promise last night.
A man of his word.
I don’t allow myself time to get too deep into that thought. I eye the girl, wondering if I trust her enough to tame my hair or if I should turn for my wig to let her fix it. I grin internally as I imagine the look on Clayton’s face when I show my face wearing this outfit and my natural wild hair.
I look over the girl's long sleek waves and shrug, deciding to take a chance. Big hair, don’t care floats through my head. Sidney from the district was always polished and dressed to the nines for the workplace.
This new Sid, the one who doesn’t have to cater to anyone, will show up anyway she pleases. Still flawless but doing things by my standards. If Clayton wants to play, then he has to learn my ground rules.
“I had my hair washed and braided yesterday morning. You can just work with it,” I say, watching for her reaction.
I breathe in relief when her eyes light up. I take another look at her trendy-looking outfit of brown ankle boots, black jeans, a black tank top, with a yellow duster sweater. Her makeup is flawless. The yellow eyeshadow makes her brown skin glow and her eyes pop.
Yes, honey can do some hair.
An hour later, Ashley and I are giggling like longtime friends. She has freed my hair of the braids, straightened the edges, and used a crimper to add volume to my long thick waves. I’ve never seen my hair look more healthy, thick, and flowing.
The large wavy mass looks like a halo on top of my head, pulling my entire ensemble together perfectly. There’s no cookie-cutter fiancée here. Clayton may be able to help me out, but I’m not just going to roll over and play nice when I don’t have the details.
Besides, he has been in control from the moment we stepped into his club last night. I need to assert myself and show I will not be taken advantage of, no matter how small this gesture may be in making that assertion.
“You look great. I love your hair. It’s a pleasure to work with,” Ashley says, as she swipes lip gloss onto my lips.
I wasn’t expecting her to do my makeup, but the girl has skills. I’ll have to get her card before she leaves. I may not go to client parties and fundraisers anymore, but you never know when a stylist may come in handy.
“You did an amazing job,” I praise, fluffing my waves. “I just hope it holds a bit before it becomes unruly and looks like a cotton ball on top of my head.”
I laugh because I’m expecting it to be a cotton ball by the time I get downstairs. It’s gorgeous, but I’ll sweat it out in five minutes. It’s one of the reasons I wear it under my wigs.
“Oh, you’re talking to the best. You will be able to rock this for at least a week, two if you twist it and tie it down at night.” She winks at me.
I narrow my eyes skeptically, causing us both to burst into laughter. Ashley shakes her head as she starts to place her things back into her case. I realize that this has been the most relaxed I’ve been in months.
“I’ll take that unit with me and get her as good as new for you,” Ashley says, pointing to my discarded wig on the vanity.
“Girl, please, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m sure he’s only paid you for your services today.” I wave her off.
Ashley’s skin forms a little crease between her perfectly drawn brows. “I was hired as your personal stylist this morning. I’ll be here every morning unless you would like me to come in later. Mr. Hennessy also gave me a list of events that I’ll be needed for in the coming weeks. I’ll be back this evening, actually,” she replies.