The Consequence

The salon was horribly busy. The whoosh of hairdryers, mixed with the sounds of the radio and the chit chatter between professionals and clients was deafening. People were rushing around, almost bumping into each other with pots of mixed hair dye and burning straightening irons. Scissors snipped at hair, letting it fall freely on the floor, making piles which the interns swept up.

Zara Cohen was in the middle of cutting Andrea Winters’ hair in a Rihanna style bob. She had seen the same picture a million times since working here, the same picture, the same haircut. It surprised Zara that over half the women in Scottsdale weren’t sporting the same hairstyle.

She snipped away, carefully pulling at the wet hair, making sure the front was longer than the back. She looked in the mirror, trying to ignore her own distressed eyes and instead focusing on the length of Miss Winters’ hair. She pulled at the front two sections, making them meet in the middle. “Does that look okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Miss Winters’ was too absorbed in the celebrity magazine she had open in front of her. “Can you believe she’s had a boob job? There was nothing wrong with them before!” She pointed at a slender looking woman with an abnormally huge bust.

Zara glanced at the photo. “Hm, they look awful if you ask me.” She walked to the opposite end of the salon, retrieving a hairdryer, and plugging it in at her own work station. She began brushing through Miss Winters’ hair professionally, combing sections, and clipping sections up out of the way. She yawned, exhausted from her lack of sleep and the amount of chatter she’d had to endure over the course of the morning.

She looked up into the mirror, checking the length again, now Miss Winters’ hair was almost fully dry. She caught sight of the person she wanted to see in the mirror. His reflection was worried. Worried and anxious. She knew his girlfriend would probably be calling him soon, wondering if he wanted to do anything tonight, or whether they’d be spending the night apart.

She rushed through Miss Winters’ hair, being unprofessional with the straighteners and almost spritzing herself in the eye with lethal hairspray, in a bid to hurry along so she could go and have her lunch and talk to him.

“I love it,” Miss Winters’ smiled, as she handed over the cash for Zara, shoving a couple of dollars into the tips jar. Zara thanked her politely and sighed heavily, turning to face the person she’d been longing to see all day.

“Hi Jay,” she smiled, “I just need to get my bag, then we can go.”

He nodded, looking around at the hair products stacked on stylish glass shelves behind him. Each bottle was a different colour, creating a rainbow of hairspray and wax and mousse. Justin Godsey sighed to himself, wondering why he was here again with Zara, instead of being with Evie. It was a strange relationship he had with his ex and his girlfriend. He often felt like a magnet, when one irritated him, he ran to the other and vice versa. Despite this, he’d do anything for either, having been with Evie for months and having dated Zara for almost two years.

Zara emerged from the staff room, her fake leather bag slung over her shoulder and a flimsy jacket hanging over her arm. She told the receptionist she’d be back in an hour and steered Justin towards the door. They stepped out into the blazing Arizona heat and headed for Justin’s car.

“What did you need me for?” He asked, once they were both sat inside. He watched Zara click her seat belt into place and stare straight ahead.

“Long story.”

“Zara,” he sighed heavily, “I was meant to be taking Evie out. Not sitting here listening to you complain about your job or Stephen or the fact he does no housework. So can we please just get this over with so I can go back to my girlfriend?”

Zara shot him a glance. “You know you’d wait around all day for me.”

Justin sighed, he could feel an irritated bubble inflate deep inside him. It had only been mere minutes and already he had the urge to run, back to safety, away from the mad mess that was Zara Cohen. It was no secret she was a walking disaster, reliant on those around her, especially those she could trust.

“It’s Stephen, again.”

That was all Justin needed to hear. He knew the words that would follow. Their relationship had been a rough river to begin with, and it seemed the further they edged towards the waterfall, the worse things got. He clicked his seat belt into place and reversed out of the car park, heading out onto the main road. They whizzed along the roads, houses and shops becoming a blur.

“Talk,” Justin more demanded than asked.

Zara inhaled deeply, bracing herself for tears. She kept her eyes straight ahead, reading the license plate of the car in front, taking in the colour, the dust that had collected on the white paint, transforming it into a grey. She stole a glance at Justin, cursing herself for letting their relationship die a painful death. “I don’t know where I stand with him anymore. It’s like I come second, I’m second best to you guys. You and alcohol. That’s all he cares about, getting drunk and being with his friends.”

“He’s twenty one, Zara, you can’t -”

“Don’t even say what I know you’re going to say! I know you’ve blown off the guys before to stay with Evie, you take care of her when she’s sick, and go shopping with her and watch really bad chick flicks with her. And you know how I know that? Because you used to do that with me. But Stephen, just doesn’t. He won’t. He thinks an apology will cut it, but it’s not enough. I don’t think he loves me like I love him.”

Justin exhaled. He shook his head. The thing about this was, Stephen was his best friend, so they had a connection, yet he and Zara also had a connection that ran much deeper. Those years together had pulled them closer, until they broke. And for him, this was the worst thing about their little meetings. She always compared the two. Stephen and Justin. Justin and Stephen. They weren’t the same person, far from it, yet Zara was hell bent on moulding Stephen into her own Justin Godsey, because she couldn’t have the real thing ever again.

“He loves you. All the time he’s drunk he’s telling everyone how much he loves you.”

“When he’s drunk.”

“You know the saying. Drunken minds and all.”

Zara shook her head, feeling tears sting her eyes. “You don’t get it, do you?”

He glanced at her. “Don’t cry.”

Her voice wavered as a lump rose in her throat. “Justin, I think I have every right to cry. Stephen can’t stand the fucking sight of me anymore, and I just, I don’t think I can deal with this. Not now. No. Not after you. I thought this wouldn’t ever happen again. But I’m tarnished aren’t I? Broken hearted once, bound to be broken hearted a million more times.” It wasn’t just a few tears now, it was sobs. They clambered up Zara’s throat and clawed their way out of her mouth.

Sighing heavily, Justin pulled into the closest car park, and cut the engine. He watched Zara, her face in her heads as she shook with sobs. Fear and depression coursed through her body. He reached out, unsure of what he was going to do, holding his hand in mid air, wondering whether to hug her or not. She looked across at him, at his hand hovering between them. She made his mind up, moving closer and ducking under his arm.

“I hate how things turned out,” she mumbled, her sobs quickly subsiding.

“Past tense, you and Stephen are still together. You can work this out, I know you can.”

She shook her head, looking up at him. “What if I don’t want to?”

Justin bit his lip. The look in her eyes. He knew what she wanted. She edged her face towards his, pressing the familiar lips to his own. Both pairs of eyelids fluttered closed and they clung to one another, deepening the kiss that started it all.