"You have a salon appointment coming up as well to get ready."
I frown at him. "A salon?"
His face pinches slightly and he gives a tight nod. "Yes. Friends of the family own the shop." Which means that they're likely shady people.
I give a nod, but I can't quite tamper down my sarcasm. "I'll pencil a mobster salon and party into my schedule."
***
I peer at the salon we're parked in front of, reading the script on the glass window that reads Luanna's Spa. Enzo gets out of the car before coming around to my door and opening.
"Let's get inside," he says, leading me inside the small building.
The inside smells faintly of vanilla and something milder. The bright blue lights make the room look pristine. Marble floors are polished and tasteful art lines the walls.
A woman with dark hair and eyes sits at the front desk and her lips spread into a grin when she sees Enzo but it quickly fades into a frown as she peers at me.
"Luanna is expecting us," Enzo says before the woman can open her mouth.
A chime sounds through the room and I look up as a woman comes sauntering into the room, a wide smile on her face. She appears to be older, thin lines at the corner of her eyes and on her forehead. She engulfs Enzo into a hug that makes him stiffen up before placing a kiss on his check, muttering words in an Italian. Once she's done with him, her gaze turns to me and unlike with the other woman, her small doesn't fall.
She approaches, grabbing onto my arms and peering at me as she continues to speak in the unfamiliar language.
"English, Luanna," Enzo says.
The lady lets out a small tsk. "I'm sorry, my dear," she says to me. "I forget that not everyone speaks the language." Her hands move from my arms to my hair and I have to keep from recoiling away. I've never liked for anyone to play in my curls. "Such pretty hair, but we definitely need to tame it," she says, shaking her head.
I blink.
Tame it?
"We'll figure it out," she says, waving her hand before her fingers press into my face, squeezing and pinching. I refrain from flinching. "But first, let's go this way and do something about your skin. It's quite rough, isn't it. We can't have that." She continues to hold a one way conversation with herself as she pulls me through the shop. A couple of the patrons peer at me in interest, but otherwise I'm ignored. The woman stops when we get to a door and she pushes it open before beckoning me inside. She stops when Enzo tries to step into the room and she waves a finger at him. "Absolutely not, Enzo."
Enzo's face pulls into a deep frown, his brows pulling together. "I have orders."
"You have orders to protect this girl, I'm sure, and you can do that from outside of the door. You don't need to be in the room," she tells him as she places her hands on her hips. Her back is straight and her gaze is hard as she peers at him. "And I know she doesn't want you invading her privacy."
"I'm not only protecting her, but I need to make sure she doesn't sneak off," he says.
I work in the club every night with free range to roam, so I know the words coming out of his mouth are bullshit. We both know I’m not going anywhere.
Luanna spins around, holding her hands. "As you can see, this is a one way out type of room so if she tries to get out of that door, you'll see her." She steps forward, pressing a hand to his chest. "Now get out," she orders him. I'm surprised when Enzo actually listens to her, stepping back out of the room. The woman slams the door shut behind him, shaking her head and back to muttering in a different language again before she switches back to english. "That boy, I swear. Annoying, he is."
She points at a lone chair in the middle of the room, "Sit."
I do as I'm told, sinking into the well cushioned chair.
I shift slightly as the woman moves over to me, muttering under her breath. She places her hands in my hair and I flinch slightly as her fingers begin to massage my scalp. I look up at the mirror sitting in front of me and it only increases my anxiety as I watch the woman continue to tangle her fingers in my hair.
"So much to do," she mutters as my hair is yanked so tightly that pain shoots across my scalp. I bring my hands up, trying to stop her from continuing to move but she slaps my hands away. "Now, none of that, darling," she says as she yanks her hand back and I promise some of my hair goes with it. "So tangled" she says, shaking her head in disapproval.
In the mirror, my eyes catch on the rings that she has on her fingers. The diamonds are big enough that they glitter.
“Maybe you should take the rings off,'' I say softly. "They're going to continue to get tangled in my hair."
She frowns before patting me on the top of the head like I'm some mutt. "No worries, dolly, I've been doing hair since before you came onto this earth. I know what I'm doing." And then she's spinning my chair away so I'm no longer looking at the mirror. Instead I find myself staring at a wall that has cabinets full of hair stuff and different sorts of waxes. A long, padded bench sits under the cabinets. "Just relax, you're in good hands."
I try to let her sentiments sink it to my head as she pulls my head back and runs water through my dark hair. I continue to tell myself that when she pulls out a fine tooth comb and begins tugging it through my curls, taking strands of hair with her. And when she puts some kind of conditioner on my hair that I'm unfamiliar with; I tell myself that at least if it has some sort of moisture in it, I won't have to worry about it doing too much damage. Letting the conditioner sit, she pulls a plastic cap on over my head and wraps a towel around my shoulders before beckoning for me to get up.