Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357
The upscale salon where I worked stayed busy. Our stylists are always in demand and booked out for months at a time. Securing an appointment with us was like winning the golden ticket. That’s why it seemed so odd when a “female” walked in, flipping her long blonde wig over her shoulder and leaned an elbow on the front desk. She popped a wad of bubble gum between her teeth and said, “I’d like to get like, just a trim.” I looked her over; the disguise was doing nothing for Ky-ky.
I guess he didn’t realize we’d gone to school together, and that I would recognize that body anywhere. Tall and lean, face sculpted like a Greek God. Adding a cheap wig and giant sunglasses wouldn’t fool me. My fingers flipped the schedule book open, and I shrugged. “We’re swamped.” Ky-ky’s face fell, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed his disappointment. “However, my noon appointment canceled at the last minute, and I can personally fit you in.” He bounced on his kitten heels and squeeled.
