2019-09-25 - Chikpea is a diva and other gossip

Looking as if she is channeling Olivia Newton-John in the carnival scene of Grease, Nicole came to the salon to work today in black faux leather skinny pants and a black boatneck short sleeved top that clings to her body, with her often worn black ballet slippers upon her feet. She put some effort into her hair and makeup today, trying to hide the fact that she has not gotten much sleep lately.

The shop itself is still the same as it has been for decades, though small changes are slowly being made to modernize it. There are some plants that have been brought in, and the hair products on display are mostly recognizable brands these days. When Nicole bought the place from Betty, the previous owner who retired, she did so with PLANS. PLANS to make it a more welcoming place to come. She is only just starting to put those plans into action, though she tells anyone who asks that she hopes to do a lot of the work herself. Ambitious woman, Nicole.

It's been a fairly steady day in the salon since it opened. Word is spreading that the girls do good work. Lacey (with her dark brown hair featuring bright purple streaks) is with a client at the manicure table while Nicole cleans up after giving a gentleman a trim. Broom in hand, she hums along to the music playing overhead. It's a smooth sort of current pop station she is plugged into, currently playing a Billie Eilish song. It's soothing, usually upbeat music fit for lingering in the background as people work and carry on conversation. The waiting area is empty at present, the black leather couch and matching chairs just waiting for a new behind to settle upon them.

Abby pops in the door for a peek. The weather is a little damp and gray out, so the Reign FC cap on her head may be for the rain rather than the sun. Or because her hair is a mess, who knows? She's also got on a purple cardigan over a black tee, dark jeans and silver running shoes. It's all very comfy. "Hello," she calls out with a bright friendly smile, reaching up to remove the cap and shake out her hair, currently just past shoulder length and a little messy. "Are you busy?"

The bell over the door jingles cheerily as Abby enters, poking her head into the salon, bringing Nicole's attention to the front. The song switches to one that begins "we are, we are, we are," with a steady beat, featuring Ed Sheeran's voice, mostly, with Khalid joining in. "Hello!" Nicole greets with a tone that matches the cheer of the bells. "Yes, we're open, come in! I mean, no... I am not presently busy. Abby.. right? How can we help you?" In the back, Lacey looks up, peeking over her client's shoulder but seeing that Nicole has taken care of the newly arrived Abby, she gets back to her work and gossip about who the woman's ex is now dating.

"Yep!" Abby confirms she is, indeed, Abby, with her smile opening up a little more. "Nicole, right? It's a nice place you have here," she says, pivoting slightly in place from one foot to the other as she looks around. While she's at it, Lacey also gets a quick finger wave and a smile and a, "Hi there." Then she turns to Nicole, back to the business at hand. She waves at her head, presumably at her hair. "You can help me with this mess," she says, her whole face creasing up in a fleeting grimace before she's smiling again, picking out a fingerful of strands to try to squint at the tips. "I think I just need a little trim. It's getting kind of long and looking like my curtains after Chickpea's done with them." She leans in. "That's my cat."

Looking around the modest salon, Nicole smiles and says, "thank you. I have a lot of plans for it. Hopefully you will come again when I remodel." Brown eyes look up to Abby's hair as she takes her hat off, studying it carefully. "Oh sure. Just a trim?" She walks over to the counter with the cash register and appointment book. "Abby, what's your last name? And would you like to add your email or mobile number to our list to receive notifications of our specials?" Looking up again, she smiles. "Chickpea. Cute name. You want a wash too, or just straight to the trim?"

Abby wanders over to the counter with Nicole, loosening her cardigan and fanning herself with a finger under the collar of her t-shirt. "Reed. R-e-e-d. No e at the end," she adds the latter part as a playful afterthought. "Oh, sure! You can have my email." Which she provides, it being a perfectly normal email address with her name and and some numbers not ending in 69. She leans lightly on the counter, still glancing about to take in the place, "I can't wait to see it, then. Will you be closed for a while for that? And thank you on Chickpea's behalf!" She has to give the question about the wash a moment's thought, face twisting lightly to the side as she toys with a few strands of hair. It is looking a little limp. "That's probably a good idea."

Writing all the information into the book, Nicole answers Abby. "I hope not to be. Budget wise, I am doing it in pieces, and I have learned how to do a few things myself, so I hope to be able to do a lot of it after hours. I may have some shorter days scheduled, but hopefully not actually closed for longer than a day or two here and there." Setting the pen atop the book again, she smiles. "One upgrade will be getting a computer system for our client contacts." She turns and begins to walk past the stations to the sink area, beckoning Abby to come with. Hand patting the chair back in front of the sink before reaching to the cabinet above for a smock, she says, "I, Personally, love when someone else washes my hair. It is a little piece of bliss." The chair Abby is invited too is the usual old school salon chair, some of the vinyl cracked at the edges. It's a nice shop, but definitely needs some upgrading.

"Oh, that makes sense, if you don't need big construction type stuff done," Abby agrees with a smile and another look around, studying the space around her and the furnishings. She smiles again at the mention of the upgrade, nose crinkling. "That sounds a lot more practical than having to copy all those down into a mailing list." She points at the book and pushes herself away from the counter to follow. "It does feel nice, doesn't it? I just always think like I should I go wash my hair first before anyone else touches it. But that kind of defeats the point, doesn't it?" She rolls her eyes before plopping down comfortably in the chair, wiggling and waiting a moment before she leans back. "Well, I didn't work yesterday, so it's fine!"

When Abby leans back, Nicole is there, flapping open the smock and laying it gently over the woman before pulling her head over the sink's edge to drape down into it. She fastens the black polyester smock around Abby's neck, not too tightly, and tucks in a bit of cotton from a roll for comfort and to presumably keep any water from dripping down past the barrier. She spends a moment running her fingers through Abby's hair, feeling the texture, looking at the ends, etc. "It does sort of defeat the purpose, plus, you don't want to dry out your hair. Especially important if you plan on putting chemicals in it." Satisfied, she reaches for a shampoo and conditioner she deems appropriate and sets the bottles on the shelf just above the sink, close enough to reach easily. Turning on the water, she lifts the wand from the sink, running it over the inside of her wrist and adjusting the knobs until it is a nice temperature somewhere between warm and hot.

"What is it you do?" the hairdresser asks. Making conversation with clients as she works comes easy to her. Outside of work, it's not always so easy.

"Right? Though I don't usually do anything too harsh to my hair other than washing it. The last time I got any color it was a purple streak and I was 16 and a rebel." The way she says rebel sounds like it should be accompanied by an eyeroll at her 16-year-old self's expenses, but she smiles as she leans back. Her hair is fine, maybe some leftover conditioning she didn't quite rinse out, feeling a little heavy, she's got a few broken strands and her ends are a little scraggly. Her legs swing slightly and her hands move along her lap as she relaxes. "Oh, I'm a nurse at Addington Memorial. Usually I just have my hair pulled back and out of my face. And I probably wash more than I should for my hair's sake, but... hospital hair." Abby wrinkles her nose.

"Such a rebel... If I told you stories about when I was 16? Man. You might pray for my soul." Nicole laughs, shaking her head. Most of her hair is pulled back and up in a clip, leaving the waves to tumble down her back instead of into her face. "I hope you are using an elastic or clip that is kind to your hair. Some of them can be really bad for breaking the strands." She starts preparing Abby for the wash and conditioning, waving the wand slowly back and forth over the nurse's head, her other hand sifting through the tresses to make sure it all gets wet. Next, shampoo, which she pumps a dollop of into her palm, rubbing her hands together before working it into the hair, pads of her fingers lightly massaging Abby's scalp. "Use a good conditioner, and make sure you rinse it out well for lighter hair. There are leave-in conditioners too that you can use. Be careful though, some are tricksy and are actually a bit bad for your hair. Something lightweight and all natural is best. So that even if you have hospital hair, you can have fabulous hair." She leans forward, smiling down at Abby.

She rinses the shampoo with the wand and those massaging fingers again, making sure to get every last sud out before applying a conditioner that smells softly of something floral with a hint of coconut. Working that into the tresses now, she doesn't really massage it into the scalp much. "So, you have a cat named Chickpea, are a nurse, which I imagine are long hours. What do you do for fun?"

Abby closes her eyes for a while, relaxing as the warm water runs through her hair. "I'm sure we all do things we regret when we're 16, your soul's probably fine," she comments with reassuring confidence and a small playful smile. Her legs kick out a little further forward like she suddenly needed a stretch. "Oh, I'm usually careful with that. Sometimes I have to improvise with whatever's at hand because everything suddenly decides to break or disappear on me, and they don't make hospital supplies thinking about /not/ breaking hair," she says with a smile and peeks up. "I know. I just always feel like I need a wash after work, and then I'm tired, so it's hard to actually keep to a routine."

The last question makes her hum softly before answering with the tiniest of winces."Besides taking pictures for Chickpea's instagram... gosh, I have very boring hobbies. The problem is my schedule is kind of all over the place, I'm doing rotations and I end up working a lot of nights some weeks. But I'll try everything once or twice!"

"I would probably want to wash my hair after work if I worked in a hospital too. Possibly on my lunch break even... so I can understand that. Oh well, since a routine won't work for you, I will be here to give first aid to your hair whenever you need." She smiles as she rinses the locks free of conditioner, listening to Abby talk. She gets a towel from the cabinet and after using her hands to squeeze some excess water from Abby's hair, brings it up loosely into the towel, not twisting it, but holding it in place.

"Here. Put your hand here," indicating the top of Abby's head, on the towel, "and let's go to my station." They continue talking as they walk over. There are four stations in the salon. One seems to be completely unoccupied; no supplies or personal touches. One has the usual tools out, and a license in a frame beside the mirror, but nothing personal. A third one is a bit cluttered and the mirror is lined with various logos and artwork in a rockabilly sort of style, presumably Lacey's. Nicole's station is organized and well maintained. There are some photos tucked along the side of the mirror, small snapshots and a couple selfies of the hairdresser out in the wide world doing Nicole type things. Above her license is a framed drawing titled 'Hair Fairy'. It features a comic style sketch of a woman who looks like it might be Nicole, complete with blonde hair and wings, standing within a salon that looks a bit more like something out of Alice in Wonderland than that is seen in reality.

Nicole swivels the chair towards Abby as she approaches and asks, "Chickpea has her... or his... own insta? How adorable!" She smiles and nods. "My hobbies aren't so thrilling either, really. Usually. I've been trying to get out of my comfort zone a bit more though." Once Abby is seated, Nicole takes control of that towel, lightly towel drying her hair as she pumps the chair up with her foot to a workable height.

"It's not so bad. Most days, no one even bleeds all over my head!" The cheerful tone has to be a joke. Abby grins, and puts her hand on the towel, holding it there as she gets up and follows after Nicole to the station. She settles in, just leaning forward first for a closer look at the decorations on the station. "That's so cute," she says, pointing to the sketch before carefully hopping into the chair.

"She does! She has over 2300 followers right now!" And that's exciting, it sounds like. Abby then drops her voice to a mock-shameful whisper. "I have maybe 12." She leans back into the hair drying and chair raising, wiggling only a little bit to make herself comfortable and get some back support. "I do some sewing. I should probably look into a fun rec team or something but it's hard with my schedule. It's why I had to quit. That and I just moved here, I guess almost 9 months ago, I just haven't really got back into things. I'd go hiking more, but, honestly it's a little scary out there these days, so I'd have to find someone to go with and then they would have to not be a serial killer too, so that's a whole thing..." Abby cringes.

Nicole stares at Abby a moment with a lopsided smile at the talk of bleeding all over her head. "Do you wear a cap or anything? Are you an ER nurse? I imagine there might be situations like bleeding over others' heads in the ER...." Her eyes go to the drawing then and there is another smile, less crooked. "Isn't it? Dylan did it. Rink. He's a pretty talented guy." Nicole arranges the smock again after the towel-dry. Don't want hair everywhere. Moving to her station, she pulls a couple different clean combs out, thoroughly sterilized, turning with astonishment to look at Abby after. "2300? Wow! I think I have like, 5." She laughs and the sound is boisterous. She seems to have no problem making fun of herself.

Using a wide-toothed comb, she starts smoothing out Abby's hair, talking to her by looking at their reflection in the mirror. "What kind of sewing?" She asks. "I know some people have been looking for costumers.. that kind of thing. Or like, quilts? I guess that would be called quilting..." The last part is said more thoughtfully to herself, as if internally she is saying 'duh, Nicole'. "What kind of rec team were you on, or would you be interested in?" Clips are being placed in Abby's hair now, separating it into chunks to make it easier to work with. "What brought you to our lovely town?" She manages, somehow, to keep most of the sarcasm from her voice there, but Abby's joking about Serial Killers proves she didn't really need to try. "Yeah.. I get what you mean... Sometimes you go to the beach for a nice lunch and end up fighting french speaking sea creatures." Surely, she is joking. "But, I go out sometimes to take photos for my insta, so if you think I might not be a serial killer, you are welcome to join me, as long as you are not one..."

"I haven't really picked a specialty yet, not really, but I do work in the ER sometimes," Abby answers, then grins, nose crinkling up at the thought of blood in her hair, "I only wear a cap in the OR and they definitely don't let me anywhere near any gushers there yet. Oh! I've met Dylan. I have a drawing of his that I really need to frame and bring in to the hospital, he's so talented." Her praise is quiet and warm as she makes herself comfortable, peering at herself in the mirror. "I know! She just has an adorable face." Aaaaand, yes, Abby's phone comes out and she quickly taps through it to display a picture of her calico, with her face quartered into neat orange and black squares. It's a striking look. "Fame got to her head, though. She lords her social media following over me if I don't get her the /good/ wet food."

Abby sits and watches Nicole at work through the mirror, head tilting slightly from side to side, flashing a brighter smile at the question "I've tried making things from scratch, but mostly I just do small alterations for myself. You know, I get ugly dresses from Goodwill and recycle them into even uglier dresses, that sort of thing! Oh. I used to play softball in school. Go Eagles." She crosses her legs at the ankle, uncrosses them, then pulls them in comfortably. "There was a job opening at the hospital. I'm from Elma. I guess I thought moving might be cheaper if I didn't go too far away..." Elma being around twenty minutes away from Gray Harbor, along the road to Olympia. "French speaking?" That's the part that makes her do a double-take.

"He really is! And he does other work too. I haven't seen much of it yet... What did he draw for you?" Nicole asks of Dylan and his art. Laughing, she reaches for her scissors and starts to comb, cut, comb, slip out more hair, comb, cut, comb, as she talks., looking at pictures of chickpea in between. "Just like a cat, isn't it? They are such divas. Good thing they are cute."

"I bet the dresses are not at all ugly. If I ever see you in one, you'll have to let me know if it's one you made." She smiles then glances at Abby in the mirror again. "Oh yeah? Softball, or baseball, scares me. I have tried, you know, for fun? I think my fear of getting hit in the face with one makes it more likely I -will- be hit with one. " She nods along, listening to Elma and the job then moves back to the 'french speaking' bit. "Just a bad dream... A really bad dream," she explains. "I think I had some bad fried fish. But.. oh.. what about getting back to Kelly's gym? I am getting a membership, after it reopens. Hoping for some lessons, but, there's like, a bunch of health benefits to kickboxing and stuff too... Might be fun."

"It was a sketch of outside the hospital, with people coming and going. It was really well done," Abby explains with a smile, squinting only slightly at the mirror to keep watch on Nicole with the scissors and the length of her hair. "That's why I want to bring it to the hospital. She is a huge dive, but then she has the instagram followers and I don't, so what can you do?" The nurse brings her shoulders up in a shrug, a big sunny smile lighting up her face.

"Well, two of them are... wearable." That's the best she can admit to, holding a hand out for an ambivalent wobble. She hums thoughtfully, listening to Nicole's concerns, and winks at her reflection in the mirror. "The obvious solution is wearing a catcher's mask at all times." The talk of a bad dream brings a small frown of sympathy to her face. "Oh. I don't know, I've thought about it. The problem is scheduling, usually, but I could look into it. I try to sign up for all kinds of things even if it's just a way to meet people and get involved in things, in town, you know? But I feel like I need to wait until work stabilizes a bit more before I make any big commitments."

"I don't think I have seen something from him yet that wasn't really well done. Even his reference sketches." There is another crooked grin on Nicole's face as she lets out the final clip and gets to trimming that bit of hair. "I think the more we put his stuff out there, the more recognition he will get. Maybe it will get him more work with commissions or things." Clip. Clip. "Did you bring Chickpea from Elma with you, or get her after? I am more of a dog person myself, but, I have a very small place so sometimes wonder if I should get a cat. Did you adopt?"

"Would that involve me being a catcher? That sounds even more frightening... then the pitcher is aiming right for me!" She laughs a little bore asking, "do catcher's not have to bat?" Nodding, it is clear Nicole understands. "Well, think about it. The gym has really long open hours, that's what helps me too. And sometimes... sometimes it would be nice to take out frustrations on a kick bag or something. You know? Anyway...." She starts to check Abby's hair for evenness, making small little alterations with the scissors here and there before she hands a hand mirror to Abby and turns her around so she can see the back of her head in the mirror reflections. "How is that? I can do a blow out too if you want."

"No, she came with me from Elma. She was - well, my uncle had a cat living in his shed, and she had a litter. I adopted two of them after my aunt took one in, but the little one, Peanut, was really small and he didn't make it." Her mouth pulls up into a sad face, which melts into a smile again. "But Chickpea's pretty healthy! So she's been with me since. And of course you should have a cat, everyone should have a cat!" Abby is full of enthusiastic encouragement for the idea, but does relent to whisper, "Dogs are good too."

"You'd be wearing a mask! And yes, you'd probably have to bat, but... you could say the mask got stuck and wear it to bat too, obviously," she suggests with a quick wink. It's a conspiracy now to break the rules of baseball. "Right! I mean, I go to the gym just to keep in shape and work my core so my back doesn't give out the minute I turn thirty. It's just hard to squeeze in the time for it, but I could probably make it with some planning. And I couldn't agree more on the kick bag! I actually took some classes a while back, and it's fun, but then the person I was going with stopped going and... well, the classes weren't great anyway."

Abby picks up the mirror and looks at herself through it, tilting slightly from side to side. "That's great!" She does sound genuinely happy with it. "Oh. I'm not sure it would be worth it in this weather," she comments with a quick glance at the drizzly damp gray outside. "I'm just going home anyway. Maybe to the grocery store, that's about as fancy as it's getting today."

"Awwww..." Nicole frowns when she hears about poor little Peanut. "I am glad Chickpea is doing so well though." She laughs a bit and says, "thinking about it.. thinking. They are at least more self-sufficient. That's another reason, aside from living in a glorified box, that I shouldn't get a dog. I am not home often enough." On the topic of baseball, there is more laughter. "You really -are- a rebel, aren't you. Next week you'll be in asking for a colorful streak in your hair like Lacey." She gestures towards the colorful hairdresser/manicurist in the back. "Purple? Blue? No... pink. I can sooo see you with some pink in your hair."

"See! More reason we should make some loose, tentative plans for hitting Kelly's gym when it is up and running again! And, his classes are awesome! I already told him I was signing up for some. I want to get stronger." Nicole flexes and the short sleeves of her top show that she at least has -some- muscle tone. It's a start.

Nicole nods and starts to tidy-up the little hairs on Abby's neck with a soft brush before taking off the smock and the cotton around her neck. "Sometimes, that is all the fancy we need. Buy some ice cream, or cheesecake, or something decadent." Draping the black smock over the chair, she stands aside, waiting for Abby to rise up before following her to the register area to ring her out. "And... come back again! I'll make sure your hair never truly looks like hospital hair." With a smile, she adds in, "and if you do decide to get some pink, I'll even give you a discount." Wink.

Abby glances briefly in Lacey's direction and her lips get tugged to the side while her brow creases in thought. "I don't know. I already wear weird patterned scrubs to work, so that might just be too much rebellion for one single human body!" She looks to Nicole at the flexing and sighs. It's a little too dramatic. "I guess! I might. Maybe. I'll look into their schedule, at least!"

She waits until Nicole finishes up, reaching up for a little scratch at her neck and the collar of her tee-shirt as she stands. "No, no no, no ice cream or cheesecake! I'm doing keto," she declares. Literally a fraction of a second later she continues. "I start doing keto at least a couple of times a week. I guess I could start /after/ the ice cream. I shouldn't," she confides in the hairdresser with a wink, tagging along to the register area to pay, and tip rather generously while she's at it. "Thank you! I don't think I could afford to come here every day after work, but I'll think about the pink streak. And maybe I'll run into you at the gym?"

Taking one of her business cards from the holder, Nicole hands it to Abby. "If you find you want to do something and need a partner that -probably- isn't a serial killer. Feel free to contact me. I'll even be your 13th follower on insta if you give me your tag." Shaking her head, she comments, "Keto is hard. Kudos to you for even trying. So um... get a really good cheese and some salami? Almost as good as ice cream." The transaction is made, receipt given, all that. "I met a guy who doesn't do carbs... and owns a sweet shop. Go figure! Maybe he could offer you some tips."

Abby accepts the card and tucks it into a cardigan pocket. "Sure! I'll do that." She laughs at the 13th insta follower, then waves off the keto compliments. "I'm used to just repeatedly failing at it. Hmmm. If he owns a sweet shop and offers me some tips... he would be a terrible businessperson. Especially if it's the one with all the fancy pastries. Though those are kind of intimidating, to be honest. Like, you bite into one and suddenly there's flaky stuff and cream everywhere..." She opens her hands wide in front of her face to illustrate an explosion, then flashes Nicole a bright smile. "It was really nice to see you again!" And then she's off, with a small pause by the door to check the state of the weather outside. It's damp.