The Mormon Renegade

Chapter 8

A few more adjustments later after thinning my thick growth, layering the outer shape and forming a sleek side fringe I'm ecstatic by the final results.

"I kinda wish it didn't suit you so we'd be forced to shave half your head." I stab her toe with my heel but she plays off her yelp as a hiccup. Scout goes back to recording my reactions.

The blue haired girl removes the material that caught bunches of cut ends in my lap. "Maybe not shave, but you've got the perfect complexion that would suit vibrant pink hair." In one swift movement the hair flops to the floor where it is brushed away joining other shades and textures in a dustbin.

"Really? Like bubblegum pink?" Scout asks hauling the camera onto the hairdresser. 

"More like Magenta pink. You can even incorporate some intense deep purple or electric blue." She plays with my hair, styling the knot free ends. Her fluro yellow nails linger around my jaw and neck as she proposes more colour options. "No doubt you can also pull off emerald green hair."

"You mean like the shade of hair trolls have?" She giggles an overly melodic laugh. Scout and I back away slightly at her invasive attitude, I almost fall out the chair. "Yep, that's the one."

"Well, uh... thanks for the input--"

"Skye." She chimes waving to Scout but smiling at me. Awkwardly she scoots out of sight leaving us confused beyond belief. "...ok?"

She quickly recover with, "Here she comes y'all, look out, keep your kids indoors and your men on leashes because no one is safe." She changes her voice to that of a dramatic narrator voicing over an action trailer. I fake throw punches short of the lens, imitating a boxers stance. "Thank you." I say to Skye.

"You're welcome and she is right you know," she offers a handshake which I oblige getting pulled toward her in the firm motion as she drops her voice, "no one is safe." She winks flirtatiously returning to the front desk.

A note was left in my grasp. Unravelling the scrunched paper, Scout balances on her toes to read from over my shoulder, "Skye. 866-740-4531 xo." We look back at the stylist who blows an air kiss our way. "You sly dog, you." She pokes at my earlobe, scruffing the recently clipped hairstyle causing the bangs to lodge themself inside my eyelid.

Oh my God. Scouts hsks chuckling won't stop no matter how many shoves I give her.

Thankfully we paid in advance, I'd hate to imagine the awkward conversation we'd have otherwise. I can barely contain my heated cheeks as we pass her, exiting the congested entry. "Told ya." Scout says punching my shoulder which I rub delicately.

"I don't swing that way." Although I can't know for sure because I was never allowed to contemplate it. Skye was caked in layers of thick, striking makeup but there was a pleasing essence about her that I couldn't hone in on.

"You can't know what you haven't tried. It's like I always say, you are what you eat." Her smile is prideful as she takes a fleeting selfie of the two of us, my face drawn in a side smirk.

"Firstly, you're not the only one that says that. Secondly, didn't you basically call yourself a dick?" She is both offended and surprised by my remark. I pick up my pace to a jog-run avoiding her playful slaps. "How dare you!"

Whipping out her phone again she holds it flat in her palm saying, "Hey google," it rings a two note harmony, "how do you kill someone and make it look like an accident?"

Bidoop

"Here is an article: Sixteen steps to kill someone and not get caught..." Tempted to continue listening to Google's method for my premeditated death I decide against it instead trying to knock the cell from her hands but she's too fast for my sluggish movements.

I concede in a furious huff. "Yeah, that's right, fear your superior." She opens her arms as you might in an arena surrounded by an enormous audience.

The second she speaks we're startled by a "Raargh." Scout squeals as she's violently twirled three sixty degrees by a strange man --with the most prominent cheek bones I've ever seen-- who firmly holds her round a bare midriff.