A Note for My Head Asking What My Heart Said

Unbeknownst to Zel, someone came into Monday’s the next night looking for her. Monday being their busiest weeknight, he barely got to the bar and the attention of a bartender in twenty minutes. He gave a fuzzy, unhelpful description to the pig-tailed blonde, who frowned thoughtfully as she mixed a Manhattan.

“Well, I dunno if I can help you,” she said, pouring out the drink. “I don’t work weekends. You might ask Marty over by the office; he’d definitely know.” Handing the glass to its owner, the blonde gave him a wink. “But stay for the show, honey. You don’t wanna miss that.”

Confused, Zel’s seeker waved off the invitation and went in search of ‘Marty’, who turned out to be the bar’s owner. “Kat, Marissa, Zel, and Candy work Saturdays,” Marty informed him, watching over his shoulder as the lights dimmed and the crowd around the bar surged forward. “I think Marissa and Candy left early—look, kid, I’ve got a bar to run. Just go watch the girls.”

“Girls?” As if on cue, all three of the attractive female bartenders hopped up onto the bar as music blasted, and the guy’s brown eyes widened. He turned back to Marty and shouted over the music, “Well, when they come in, can you tell them Alex came by?”

Zel's third job, the one she worked at the fewest days of the week, was the only one she truly enjoyed. During her last year of high school, she'd convinced her aunt and uncle to pay for beauty school and had since earned her credential as a hairstylist; despite being so young, she landed a job in a trendy salon in Baltimore, to which she commuted every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.

Her favourite part of the job was doing dyes, particularly of unusual colours, and trendy haircuts. A lot of younger women came in asking for her if they wanted something unique. Unfortunately since she didn't work at Hair Razors the whole week, her commission wasn't as high as it could be, but Zel really needed to keep three jobs to hold everything together. She had her siblings to support.

However she'd had to work her way up from the bottom—sweeping up hair—and still only did about a dozen cuts a week. The snooty women who mostly habited the salon looked down on Zel and Naomi, the twenty-year old receptionist who was working her way through college; apparently being young was a crime nowadays.

But Naomi kept Zel sane at Hair Razors and made the job even more enjoyable; they both had a dry sense of humour and a high tolerance for the bullshit snooty customers put them through. Standing on the skinny side at just over 5'8", Naomi Palmer was studying music, piano specifically, and kept a xylophone in her desk just in case she got an idea for a song; her dream was to be a concert pianist, and there was nothing Zel liked more than to look over and see the choppy dark brown bob with the crimson streak falling in Naomi's face as she craned over her xylophone.

Leaning against doorway in the frosted glass wall that separated the waiting section from the salon, Zel glanced up from her conversation with Naomi and blinked at the rare sight standing in the door. Males didn't frequent Hair Razors, especially attractive surfer-types like this one. "Uh, hi," he said uncertainly, creeping over to the desk. "I want a haircut."

All the women in the lobby were staring, and some of the stylists were leaning back to catch a glimpse of him. Zel smiled at his uncomfortable expression, recognising him from a few nights before.

"Sure," Naomi said with a shrug, "Though, if you don't mind me asking, why exactly are you getting your hair cut here?" So she noticed the other stylists beginning to fight over who got to serve him as well.

He shrugged. "I dunno. I picked a place at random." He blinked green eyes at Zel. "Have we--"

"And you chose the ritzy, sparkly salon when there's a barber down the street?" Naomi interrupted incredulously, raising an eyebrow at him.

"...There's a barber down the street?"

Zel chuckled, drawing his attention back to her. "Yes, Zack, there is." Zack frowned, confused as to why she knew his name. "Saturday night," she reminded lightly, not moving from her leaning-place. "You tried to chat me up without actually knowing my name." He flushed slightly, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, and Zel grinned. "It's Zel, by the way. C'mon, I'll do you right."

As Zack followed Zel into the salon, he stepped closer to her when he noticed the women in the shop—all the women—were watching him like hungry lions watch zebras at the zoo. Noticing this, as well as the other stylists slowly approaching, Zel hissed through her teeth, "Back off, he's a friend!" Which caused pouts as the woman slunk back to their stations.

She smiled as she dusted off a chair for him. "Sorry about them," she apologised. "We don't get very many guys in here."

"Could'a fooled me," he muttered, relaxing in the chair. "Just an inch or two. I look like I stuck a fork in a socket." Zel laughed as she set out her tools and spun him around to the sink.

"So I don't know about the places you frequent," she said over the water as she shampooed his hair, "But around here we make conversation by prying into customer's personal lives. Tell me about yourself.”

“Uh...” Zel smiled at the pensive expression Zack took on. “I think we covered most of the stuff Saturday night.”

“Well that’s no fun. What do you do when you’re not on the road?”

“Not very much, to be honest,” he chuckled as she rinsed his hair. “I go surfing a lot.”

She tilted his chair back up and gave him a sceptical look. “Are you sure you’re from Maryland?” He laughed, and their witty banter continued similarly. Zack told Zel all about himself, the random nuances that make up a real person, and stories from tour and other various hilarious events while she cut his hair. At one point she had to put down her scissors because she was laughing so hard.

“There!” Zel said with a grin as she shut off the blow dryer. “Behold my masterpiece.”

Zack chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Perfect.” He hopped out of the chair and walked with her to Naomi at reception to take care of paying. After doing so—and giving a generous tip—he turned back to Zel. “So I was wondering, if you’re not busy later, maybe we could catch a movie or something?”

Zel’s smile faltered and she looked towards the plate-glass storefront awkwardly. Dammit, she thought, Not another one. “Zel here doesn’t date,” Naomi informed him, coming to her rescue. Zack tilted his head at her, glancing at Zel. Naomi shrugged. “It’s just a weird thing about her. Single as long as I’ve known her, turned down every prospect that’s come along.”

“It’s just that I’m not looking,” Zel put in evenly, adopting a mask of impassivity once again. “Don’t take it personally.” After a moment a smile glimmered. “Though I’d be more than happy to hang out sometime.” The smile wavered. “But I have to warn you: I work a lot.”

He nodded understandably, though admittedly disappointed. “’Sall good. Here, I’ll give you my number and we’ll figure out when’s a good time.” They exchanged phone numbers, programming the other’s into their cell phones, and Zack waved as he strolled out, still followed by the stares of the other women in the shop.

The young pair watched him go too, the older of the two letting out a low whistle. Naomi arched an eyebrow at her friend. “So tell me again why you deny yourself deliciousness like that?” she asked dryly.

Zel crumpled into a chair and slumped over the desk. “I don’t know!” she moaned over-dramatically. Naomi laughed and patted her on the head. Zel sat up straight and shrugged like she hadn’t just thrown herself down in feigned misery. “He is very attractive, but I doubt it’d work.”

“But you don’t know because won’t let it! When was the last time you went on a date?” Zel muttered indistinctly, face blank. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Her voice softened. “You can’t let it hold you back forever, Zel. They’d want you to move on.”

“I know,” she sighed lightly, climbing to her feet and heading back into the salon. “I’m just not ready yet.”

Downright tragic, that girl, Naomi thought to herself, shaking her head as she answered the phone.