You cannot be serious," Bailey told her roommate.
"What makes you think that?" Max asked.
"You would really go in there and get your hair cut just to win this little game?"
"I don't play to lose."
Bailey studied her friends face, looking for any sign she was bluffing.
"I'm not going to forfeit," she finally told Max. "If you want to beat me, you go in there and get your mop chopped."
"You're making this too easy," the tomboy replied as she turned to enter the Barber's.
"Wait!" Bailey grabbed Max's shoulder, the competitive side of her nature driving her to seek some chance for victory.
Max turned back to the farm girl. "Yes?"
"What exactly are you proposing? If both of us were to go in there...which I have not agreed to yet."
"It's pretty simple. Whoever ends up looking the most butch wins."
"But that's not fair," said Bailey.
"How so?"
"There's only one barber and one barber chair. One of us would have to go before the other. Whoever goes first would be at a disadvantage. The second girl could just ask for a cut that's shorter than the first."
"Well, then the first girl will have to try and guess how far her opponent is willing to go," Max countered. "But this is all academic anyway, as I know you're not going to cut your hair. Maybe I could use a little trim," Bailey said defiantly. "It would take a lot more than that to beat me," Max replied.
The two girls locked gazes, each looking for a sign of weakness. After taking each other's measure, the tension was surprisingly broken with laughter.
"We're really going to do this, aren't we?" Bailey asked in near disbelief.
"It looks that way." Max answered. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a quarter. "Coin toss...winner goes last...your call."
Bailey nodded and called heads. The result was tails.
The farm girl swallowed a lump in her throat as she turned to enter the shop. Zack was working his part time job of tending the smoothie bar on the main deck. Business was slow, but he couldn't take much of an opportunity to relax, as his single customer was London Tipton.
Not that the heiress was giving him too much work to handle, rather it was the fact she was talking his ear off about her latest shopping escapades. London was capable of droning on about fashion lines and clothing for hours, and with Zack unable to leave his workstation, she had a captive audience.
Thus, he was overjoyed when he saw an opportunity for distraction, even if it came from an unlikely source. Mr. Moseby, Miss Tutweiller," he called out as the two adults walked by. "You two look like you could use a couple of smoothies."
"I can't say that I'm particularly thirsty at the moment," Mr. Moseby said before looking towards the school teacher. "You?"
"I'm good," she replied.
"Aw come on," Zack said. "They're on the house."
The two adults looked to one another and decided to take advantage of the unexpected offer.
"Thank you, Zack," Emma Tutweiller said as she took a seat at the bar.
"I hope this offer isn't part of some scheme of yours," Moseby added as he took a seat.
