Back Room Banter
“I’ve seen people come into the shop with all sorts of things,” I said to Kamy. “One time, this lady brought in those sticks that a doctor uses to check your tonsils.”
“Uh huh,” Kamy said, looking at her text messages.
“She wanted to know if I could give her a perm on them.”
Kamy whooped, set her phone on the counter. “That’s crazy!”
“You bet it is. I told her, I’m sorry, Mrs. Hammond, but I’m a beautician, not a magician.”
Kamy laughed so hard she almost puked up the lunch we’d just devoured from La Cantina. “One time,” she said when she got her breath back, “I was doing a color consultation on Mrs. Lee. And I was halfway into it, you know, color charts, swatches, level this, retouches, blah, blah, blah. And I notice something moving on her lap. Like, under her cape.”
“She was a he?”
Kamy punched me playfully. “No, silly, she had her Pekinese on her lap. I must have been with her five minutes before that dog ever moved.”
Chuckling, I looked around the corner from the back room of the salon. Coast clear. No clients. “What about that time the Jesus guy came in here selling those daily slogan cards?”
Kamy looked confused. “That wasn’t a Jesus guy. That’s my friend, Eddie. He’s deaf.”
“Oh.” I felt like an ass, so I ate the remnants of leftover tortilla chips.
“Hey, I wanted to ask your advice,” she said.
“I’ve got this guy coming in at 2:00 for a wax service.”
“Oh yeah?” I’d never done any waxing, except in cosmetology school with Miss Jo. “What’s he getting done? Eyebrows?”
“No, it’s on our books as Back, Crack and Sack,” Kamy said.
As the shock registered, my mouth gaped open.