Bitter Cuts (3 page)

“The owner?” asked Olivia.
“I thought this place belonged to Alexis and T-Man?”

“Contrary to popular
belief, my siblings over there have simply been overseeing things
while I was out of the country on business,” replied George,
glaring at the two at the reception area. “And by the looks of it,
they've been doing a lousy job.”

The girls ran up to shake their
boss' hand, but George was all about business. “A salon, like any
good operation, runs on teamwork, from the top down to the bottom.
First off, the tips will be equally divided among all staff.
Secondly,” he said, turning to his dream girl, “Olivia, is it?” he
asked.

“Yes … “ she
replied.

“If anyone …
anyone
calls this young woman by
any
name besides Olivia, they'll
be dismissed without pay on the grounds of unprofessional
conduct.”

Jenna huffed and rolled her
eyes. “I don't care who your are, that's bullshit,” she said.
“There's no way in hell I'll be sharing my tips with anyone, much
less an incompetent little Midwestern troll.”

Everyone looked away from Jenna
as George began to speak. “Olivia,” he said. “Would you please
gather Jenna's belongings for her? She won't be working here
anymore.” The words fell like a hammer on all who could hear them.
Olivia went in the back to get a box for Jenna's tools, and
quickly, but carefully, placed all the items inside and waited for
her by the door.

“Georgie, be reasonable,”
said Alexis, coming out from behind the counter. “Jenna's one of
our best artists!”

“If you'd like to join her
in the unemployment line, Alexis, you're more than free to do so,”
replied George. T-Man started to come to his sister's defense, but
was quickly shut down. “Same goes for you, Theodore,” added George,
as the girls worked hard to keep their laughter under control as
T-Man's given name was revealed.

“You're going to allow
this?” said Jenna to Alexis, but Alexis had temporarily learned her
place, and sat behind the counter once again, turning away from her
star stylist. Jenna looked around at the others, who, like always,
followed Alexis' lead and shunned her. “Whatever!” said Jenna, as
she approached Olivia, still standing there with her
tools.

“Oh, and let's not forget
to turn in those keys of yours, Jenna,” smiled Olivia.

“There's more than one set
of keys to my shop?” asked George, looking all around. “Cough 'em
up!” he barked, as all the stylists dug into their purses for their
copies.

Jenna snatched the box from
Olivia's hands. “Don't fool yourself, sweetie,” she sneered,
“You're still at the very bottom of this profession!”

“Well, maybe today I am,”
she replied, “But I'm not the one that's getting kicked out of
here.” As Jenna started to walk away, Olivia stopped her exit. “One
more thing …
sweetie
… you can call yourself a Latina bombshell all
you want to, but a fat ass is still a fat ass, and at least I'm
beautiful where it counts.” Jenna glared once more at her before
heading out for the last time.

“Okay,” continued George.
“Anyone else have anything catty to add?” The room was completely
silent as he waited for a response. “Good, then let's get down to
business. Bitter Cuts is losing a lot of money, and I'm pretty
damned certain that several thousand dollars of product has either
been given away or found a way to walk out the door. The locks to
every door here will be changed, and you'll all be required to
carry clear or mesh purses. Furthermore, there's no more selling of
product to employees at cost, however, you'll get a fifty percent
discount.” No one dared to say a word as he continued. “And there's
not going to be anymore screwing around on the job. Work is work,
play is play. Hours of operation are from eight in the morning to
seven at night. You'll be given proper break periods throughout the
day, but the rest of it, you'll be doing what you were hired to do.
Anyone have a problem with that?”

The employees, including the
owner's siblings shook their head, indicating they would follow the
new guidelines. “Okay then, see you all tomorrow. I'm going to grab
some dinner.” George looked at Olivia and smiled. “Care to join
me?” he asked. Olivia smiled as jaws dropped around the room at the
notion that such a handsome and successful man would take this
nobody out on the town.

“Uh, George, little Miss
Thing's still on the clock,” said Alexis, standing in the
entrance.

“Then I guess she's lucky
I'm the one paying her,” replied George. “Don't push your luck with
me, sis … not today.” Olivia covered her laugh with her hands,
picked up her purse, and taking George's arm, headed out the
door.

* * * * *

“George, my friend, nice
to see you!” said Paolo, as Olivia and her date entered the
restaurant. “And we have a guest tonight, very good
indeed.”

“Paolo, this is Olivia
Foster,” said George. “Olivia, Paolo LaGana.”

“Welcome to Bella
Signora,” said Paolo, kissing Olivia's hand.

“Translates as 'beautiful
lady',” George whispered to Olivia.

“Piacere di conoscerti,
Paolo,” replied Olivia, kissing him on both cheeks, before turning
to George. “Translates as 'pleasure to meet you'” she laughed. “I
think Paolo is pretty much universal.”

“Oh, how I do like this
one!” laughed Paolo. “Come, come, my dear. You will have the finest
meal in all of Los Angeles tonight. Paolo led the two to a table by
the window which overlooked the city, and helped Olivia with her
chair.

“So you speak Italian,
among your other talents?” asked George.

“I was bored when I first
arrived in California,” replied Olivia. “So I took a cooking class,
and picked up a little of the language.” She took a sip of wine.
“And how do you know I'm talented in other areas?”

“Well,” said George, “I've
saw you cutting and styling the mannequins. Who taught you how to
do such wonderful work?”

“I've been taking more
than just cooking classes,” she replied. “I've also signed up for
continuing education in cosmetology when and where I could afford
it.”

“We've always had a policy
of paying for classes.”

“First time I've ever
heard about it. Besides, it's more of a pipe dream than anything
else.”

“What are you talking
about?”

Olivia looked at George as if he
were out of his mind. “Oh, come on,” she said. “Look at the girls
around your place, and then look at me. You know I'm too fat to be
a success in this business!”

“That's bullshit. First of
all, I want people in my shop who can do good work, and that's
you.”

“A girl's got to have the
look to have the clients,” she replied, looking down.

George took her by the hand and
led her back to the coat room, where there was a mirror on the
door. “You've got the look, Olivia,” he said, caressing her
shoulders. “You've got that and a whole lot more from where I'm
standing.”

Olivia turned around and smiled.
Never in her wildest dreams could she imagine a night like this,
with a complimentary gentleman in a fine Italian restaurant. She
went a little weak in the knees and reclined into his chest as
George wrapped his arms around her. She looked deeply into the
mirror at their reflection, and imagined a more intimate
relationship with him. “Come on,” said George, leading her back to
the table, “Fill me in on what's going on down at the salon.”

Olivia sat back down. “So why
should I trust you?” she asked. “I mean, you could have revealed
yourself at anytime you wanted, but you hung around for hours over
two days, letting me cry, allowing me to be insulted, and you could
have stopped it at anytime you wanted. Seems a bit callow to
me.”

George leaned back in his chair.
“I'm sorry for that. I've always been the type to stay in the
shadows until I get all the information I need.”

“That's a pretty lame
excuse,” she replied.

“Yes, it is,” he agreed.
“I suppose I've lost some of my social graces during my time
overseas. The Middle East isn't the most cordial place in the
world, and it's been a little tough adjusting back to
normal.”

“So that was your business
abroad,” replied Olivia, reaching for his hand. “You were in the
military?”

“For four years after
Annapolis,” said George. “I trained for about a year and a half
after college, and then spent two years with a SEAL unit in
Iraq.”

“Thank you so much for
your service,” she said, softly. “How long have you been
back?”

“Only a few weeks,” he
replied. “And I appreciate you thanking me, by the way. It's the
first time I've heard those words from anyone outside the
Navy.”

“You'd think more people
would show their gratitude.”

“The war's been going on a
long time, people tend to forget about us. And L.A.'s about the
most ungrateful place on the face of the planet.”

“Well, I'll certainly
agree with you on that one,” she said. “But tell me about what it's
like over there. Weren't you scared?”

“I was, extremely scared,
especially when I got my orders,” he replied. “But I was already at
the Academy when the war started up, so there wasn't much of a
question about doing time in a combat zone. You learn to deal with
your fears; you do what you need to for your survival and that of
your friends.”

“I've known your brother
and sister for a while now, you obviously come from a rich family …
why would you risk your life when you've got luxury.”

“We grew up in Minnesota,
and believe me, it's a lot different out there than
here.”

“You're kidding!” laughed
Olivia. “I'm from Wisconsin! What brought your family out this
far?”

“Alexis and Theo always
wanted to come out here, and they left as soon as they got out of
high school. They wanted a life the Midwest just couldn't provide.
I wanted to see something different, too, but I headed east when I
graduated. We're different people, my siblings and I. They want
everything handed to them, and I guess even though I grew up with
money, I wanted to give a little something back to the country that
allowed me and my family to live well.”

“That's very noble, not
many people would do that given the same situation. You're a hero,
you know that?”

“I don't know about that …
the heroes are those who weren't as lucky as I was,” he
replied.

“Well, you're one in my
eyes,” said Olivia, stroking his hand before slapping
it.

“What was that for?” he
asked.

“Because of your antics
today,” she replied. “You might be a hero, but there's still a
little bit of an asshole inside.”

“I am truly sorry,” he
said, trying to contain his snicker. “Think you can forgive me one
of these days?”

Olivia rolled her eyes and
smiled. “Yeah, I think that might be possible … one of these
days.”

“So tell me,” said George.
“What's a Wisconsin girl doing out on the West Coast?”

“To be honest, it's a
story very similar to yours,” she replied. “I love my home, still
keep in touch with my family and everything, but I suppose I wanted
something different out of my life as well. I was always good at
doing hair, and I wanted to practice in a city full of excitement
and intrigue. Eventually, I want to do hair and make up for the
movie stars. All my life, I knew I was free spirit, and I just
couldn't see myself tied to a husband and life in a small
town.”

“Husband? Was there a
suitor in your life?”

“Yeah … there sure was,”
she smiled. “Zachary Mitchell, childhood pal and high school
sweetheart. We were the kind of couple that knew each other from
kindergarten on up.”

“Sounds like he was a
special guy,” said George.

“He was … he is,” she
replied. “He never once looked at another girl when we were
together. Just one of the dearest men. He proposed to me on prom
night.”

“Why didn't you take him
up on it,” asked George.

“Like I said, I'm a free
spirit. He would have made a wonderful husband and a great dad to
the kids we would've had. But I know myself better than anyone
else. He was one of those that was so good, I had to let him go. I
knew if I didn't, I'd end up breaking his heart, and he would have
stuck with me through it all, too. I couldn't bear to see the light
in his eyes die out and fade away. I would have ended up ruining a
really good man, and although I thought about staying with him, I
knew it would be selfish to do so. When he proposed that night, on
bended knee, of course, I told him I'd think about it, and we
should just have a good time.”

Olivia took a sip of wine before
she continued. “Prom ended, we went to a small motel, and made
love. And it wasn't just high school fucking, we really connected,
like everything we'd felt for one another for all those years was
expressed through our bodies that night. I woke up before him,
wrote him a note trying to explain who I was and how I felt, and
left the ring on the night stand. He was crushed, naturally, that's
something that can't be avoided. I tried to remain his friend
through the rest of our senior year, but I think he buried his
feelings for me deep inside, and I really can't blame him
either.