Chapter 2

The cheerful click of heels sounded behind me. Christine fluttered over like a butterfly.

"Got it! Why so much today? You just bought me a necklace yesterday."

Carter's voice was warm. "I couldn't be with you last night. Consider it an apology — one necklace isn't nearly enough."

I stood frozen, my back to both of them.

Last night, my arm had been in searing pain. I'd begged Carter for a long time before he finally agreed to take me to the hospital.

Christine noticed I hadn't moved and tilted her head.

"Lora? Why aren't you doing anything? My hair isn't finished yet."

I took a deep breath. My voice came out a little unsteady.

"Sorry... just a little dizzy. Low blood sugar. I'll be fine in a second."

Carter's tone turned cold.

"What's the point of an employee like this?"

"I'll tell the manager to fire her."

Christine laughed it off. "Oh, babe, don't be so hard on her. She's got a leech of a boyfriend draining her dry. She's pathetic enough as it is."

The shampoo bottle slipped from my hands and hit the floor.

Foam splattered everywhere.

The man behind me went suddenly quiet.

A pair of expensive leather shoes appeared at the edge of my vision. They stopped for two seconds.

Carter said, "Go wait in the car. I need to talk to the owner."

Christine pouted. "Why? I haven't finished my hair yet."

"Be good. I'll have the driver pick up those pastries you love."

That was enough to get her moving. "Fine, but be quick," she said, and walked out.

The sound of her heels faded.

The shop door closed.

Carter stood behind me, his voice low. "Lora."

I crouched on the floor and didn't move.

"Why are you here?"

I slowly stood up and turned around.

Carter was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. On his wrist was that limited-edition watch I'd only ever seen in magazines.

He looked completely out of place in this run-down little salon.

His eyes were cold. "Didn't you tell me you worked in an office building?"

"So every day when you came home from work, you were coming back from a place like this?"

He stepped back, as if I actually had some kind of contagious disease.

I opened my mouth. The explanation I wanted to give lodged in my throat.

Right. I had lied to him.

But why?

Because of his two hundred thousand in loans — the monthly payment hanging over our heads like a blade.

Because every time he noticed the calluses on my hands, he'd say with such tenderness, "Lora, once I make it, you won't have to work this hard."

I didn't want him to know I was washing people's hair.

I didn't want him to feel like he was dragging me down.

Suddenly I found it all very funny.

For two years, I'd spent over twelve hours a day on my feet. My fingers were waterlogged and peeling. I'd developed cervical problems, tendinitis, low blood sugar — I'd been hospitalized more times than I could count.

And he could casually wire two million dollars to another woman without a second thought.

The shop door cracked open. Christine stuck her head in.

"Honey, are you done? The pastries are here — they're going to melt if you don't hurry."

Carter glanced at me and lowered his voice. "Don't say a word about today."

The door closed.

I stood alone in the empty salon, staring at the puddle of shampoo foam on the floor.

For a long time.

My phone buzzed.

A message from my manager:

"Lora, you're fired. A customer just complained about your service. Your entire paycheck will be withheld to cover the damages."

"Don't blame me. These people have money and connections. Pack up your things and go now."

I stared at the screen. I couldn't find a single word to say.

Outside the window, the black luxury car slowly pulled away.

The window was half down. I could see Christine leaning on his shoulder, and him bending down to press a kiss to her forehead.

That kiss looked exactly like the ones he used to give me.