The Salon

Sandra came into the salon Monday at 6 pm. She was on her phone, and the Salon had closed for regular business, but the owner, Reagan, had let her in. Without saying a word to Reagan, Sandra breezed in and sat in a chair without even being asked.

"I'm getting a trim," said Sandra on the phone. "Yeah...no, they keep the salon open for me. It's me after all....yeah they don't mind. They need me more than I need them."

Regain rolled her eyes.

Reagan was the only stylist Sandra would use, and Sandra was her most famous client, and had steered some of her wealthy friends, if she could call them friends the way Sandra talked about them. Sandra was always on her phone during her sessions, and treated the shampoo girl, a young woman going to cosmetics school, like she didn't exist or worse.

Reagan had postponed a date with her boyfriend for this, and she could not begin when Sandra was on the phone. After a few minutes, Reagan had had enough.

"Can we please get on with this!" she burst out.

"Rude!" said Sandra.

"I'll call you back." Sandra hung up. "Don't talk to me like that. You know I'm your most famous and richest customer."

"I don't care!" snapped Reagan. "You told me this was very important, and you have a big meeting tomorrow, but you act like I owe you!"

It was Sandra's turn to roll her eyes.

"Look, I can make or break businesses," said Sandra. "Go get us a couple of caramel cappuccinos and chill out." She got back on ehr phone.

Reagan stormed off. She leaned against the wall just inside the doorway to the main shop. She heard Sandra whisper.

"The papers are in my bag right now. They're proof....no....no...look if these papers get out, they'll ruin me, but they'll also ruin him...no listen. He'll blink first."

"Reagan thought about the large purse Sandra slung on the chair next to her. Her salon had a cappuccino and espresso machine, and she knew how to use it. She made cappuccinos, and in her purse, she had some sleeping pills on of her stylists brought back from Mexico. They were very strong. She took one and a half, ground them up with a brush handle and slipped them into Sandra's drink.

By the time Reagan returned, Sandra was texting. "Here you go. I'm sorry for my outburst."

"I forigive you."

Reagan watched Sandra sipp her drink. "You know, you do make good cappuccinos here. Better than my last assistant. She just quit thank god." She followed Reagan to the shampoo station, sipping her drink while she went. The shampoo was very relaxing, and Sandra grew sleepy.