Saving Wishes (The Wishes Series) (21 page)

Nicole spelled it out for them in no uncertain terms by speaking slowly and loudly. “You’re stealing.”

Jasmine’s shameless snicker proved something we already knew. They were morally bankrupt. “It’s not stealing. It’s market research,” she said, raking through Lily’s hair with a wide-toothed comb.

Lisa stood up, waddling toward Nicole with the grace of a drunken duck, trying to not disturb the remaining cotton wool between her toes.

“We come in every few Saturdays when the new stock comes in, to try it out,” she explained. She had the intellect of the world’s dumbest criminal and I bit my bottom lip to stop myself laughing out loud at her stupid admission.

Jasmine shushed Lisa, directing a poisonous glare square at her but it was too late. Nicole pieced it all together instantly. One of Jasmine’s duties as Carol’s apprentice was ordering new stock. Judging by the way Lily was studying the product catalogue; they were ordering whatever they fancied and intercepting it without Carol ever knowing.

“You wait until my mother finds out,” warned Nicole, unfortunately sounding juvenile.

Jasmine didn’t look alarmed. If anything she looked even more demonic than usual as she stepped toward Nicole, waving the plastic comb at her. “Are you planning to dob on us, Nicole? Because that would be a huge mistake.”

“You’re a thief!”

Jasmine sauntered back to Lily’s chair. “What would happen if I got in first?” she mused. ”I could call her and tell her everything.”

I didn’t buy it for a second. Her tone was too cunning for someone entering a plea bargain.

“You’d tell her what you’ve done?” asked Nicole, understandably sceptical.

“Oh, Carol,” she mocked, holding the comb to her ear as a makeshift phone. “I came to the salon to tidy up a little and Charli and Nicole are here. I hate to be the one to tell you, but Charli’s been filling her pockets with as much stock as she can carry.”

“She’d never believe you,” I scoffed, speaking for the first time since we’d walked in.

Jasmine sucked in a long breath, exhaling loudly as if talking had become arduous. “But what if she did? Your name has been bounced around this salon a million times…and never in a nice way. It’s not going to be much of a stretch to convince her that you’re not only slutty, but a thief too. Everyone already thinks you’re damaged goods, Charli.” She shook her head, tutting. “Everybody talks about it. You’re just an attention seeker…such a disappointment to Alex. Of course Carol will believe you’re a thief.”

Her speech burned like acid but I refused to appear affected. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Will you, Charli? Really? She’ll press charges. You know she will,” she goaded. “A criminal conviction will spell the end for you. Your travel plans might be cut short. Most countries don’t take kindly to criminals seeking entry visas.”

“You are such an evil bitch,” said Nicole glumly.

“It’s true,” said Lily, breaking in. “Our cousin, Sarah, couldn’t get into Canada because she had a drink driving conviction.”

Nicole groaned and slapped her own forehead. “Sarah couldn’t get into Canada because she spelled Canada wrong on her visa application.”

Lisa’s giggle was extinguished by another lethal glare from Jasmine.

“It, doesn’t matter anyway, Nic,” I said, sighing heavily for effect. “Jasmine’s right.”

“What are you talking about?” she hissed.

“I can’t risk it. I know what Carol thinks of me.” It took great effort to sound so defeated.

Lisa guffawed, obviously impressed by the outcome of Jasmine’s attack on me. I glanced at Nicole, silently trying to reassure her that I hadn’t lost my mind.

The Beautifuls claimed the win, going about their business as if we were no longer in the room. I walked toward the back room on the pretence of collecting the soiled towels. Nicole followed. “Here, take this one too,” demanded Jasmine, throwing a sodden pink towel at me as I passed. I let it fall, refusing to demean myself by picking it up.

As soon as we were through the narrow doorway, Nicole grabbed my arm “What’s gotten into you?”

I nudged her aside and began rummaging through the lotions, potions and powders lining the shelves of the back wall. I had a plan – and the inspiration had come from a most unlikely source.

Floss Davis was fanatical about living organically and chemical free. I knew Carol had done her hair for years, and thanks to Gabrielle Décarie, I had a fair idea how she managed to make her hair such a bright shade of red without chemically dyeing it. Gabrielle was an experimental artist. She loved trying out new mediums and painted on everything from canvas to ceramic. Her latest project was staining leather with henna. I’d watched her working on it one day, carefully and slowly ensuring none of the dye touched her bare hands. When I asked her how long it would take for henna to wear off skin, she answered by painting a tiny heart on the inside of my wrist, which was still bright orange nearly a week later.

“I found it,” I said, thrilled that my hunch had paid off. I spun around to show her the container of henna powder. “Find me some hand lotion or something.”

Nicole looked confused but she did as I asked, handing me a tub of moisturiser. I decanted the gritty brown powder into the white cream, mixing it with a spoon I found next to the sink. With a bit of luck, Jasmine would be stirring her coffee with the same spoon on Monday morning.

“What is that stuff?” asked Nicole.

I grinned, already tasting victory. “Tate bait,” I whispered. I put my finger to my lips before casually strolling back into the shop. Nicole followed behind, struggling to carry the bundle of pink towels she’d collected.

Everything in the salon was pink. It was pink overload. If there had been a cluster of seizure patients in town, they would surely trace the source back to the bright pink fittings in Carol Lawson’s salon.

“Are you sure your mum won’t find out?” I asked, hoping Nicole would be clued up enough to follow my lead.

“Err, yeah,” she muttered, unconvincingly.

“I’ve always wanted to try this,” I said, holding the pot of lotion out in front of me, giving Jasmine ample opportunity to snatch it from me as I walked past – which she did. She didn’t notice me glance at Nicole and give her a wink. She was studying the label.

“It’s nothing special,” she scoffed.

“It is if you use it properly. Gabrielle Décarie swears by it.”

“How would you know that?” asked Lisa.

“Because I spend a lot of time at her house, whoring around with Adam,” I said dryly. A thrill rushed through me. I could see them mulling it over. “She smothers her hands with it, leaves it on for ages and then washes it off.”

Even if a sense of decency had kicked in – which it hadn’t – it was too late to let them off the hook. Jasmine had already unscrewed the lid and begun slathering her hands in the grainy gunk.

“Like this?” she asked, seeking approval.

“Perfect.”

Nicole and I left the trio of Beautifuls sitting in a line on the pink velvet couch, identically posed, resting their elbows on their knees to ensure their hands received the optimum treatment. I instructed them to leave it on at least half an hour, but they were greedy. They’d put on twice the suggested amount and leave it on much longer.

I managed to contain myself long enough to suppress my dance until we were out of sight. Nicole threw her head back in a bray of laughter. “We’re going to hell in a hand basket,” she told me, laughing. “You know they’re going to be gunning for you now, right?”

I did know; which is why I had mapped out the rest of my afternoon in my head. I figured I had a few hours reprieve – an hour for them to finish their
treatment
and another few hours while they tried scrubbing the orange dye off their hands. All bets were off after that. They’d come looking for me, and past experience told me that the safest place to be when that happened was wherever Alex was.

I drove Nicole home before heading to the café. Alex’s Saturday shift should have been more bearable considering Gabrielle had surrendered the first day of her weekend to hang out there with him, but for some reason the atmosphere was tense. I frowned. He couldn’t have found out what I’d done so soon. There was no way the Beautifuls could have been hunting me down that quickly.

Gabrielle sat at the end of the counter, perched on the wicker stool with her legs crossed in a ladylike, but uncomfortable-looking pose. Alex stood a few feet away, arms folded and body rigid.

“Am I interrupting something?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“No,” replied Alex tensely.

“Yes,” retorted Gabrielle, staring at him.

Alex glowered at her. I’d seen that look a million times. He was silently ordering her to hush – only it didn’t work. She hesitated for only a second before continuing.

“There is an art exhibition next weekend that I would like to go to. Alex is refusing to accompany me.”

“Why?” I asked, making my way over to the counter. It wasn’t like Alex to refuse her anything.

“Because it’s in Stanley and we’d be gone for the whole weekend.” Gabrielle was speaking to me but glaring at Alex. His demeanour didn’t waver.

Stanley, a pretty seaside town in the northwest, was about as far away from Pipers Cove as they could go without leaving the state. It was a full day’s drive. Excitement bubbled inside me and I concentrated hard on not letting it show. But it was pointless. To Alex, I was completely transparent.

“Not going to happen, Charlotte,” he warned.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to.”

“They are not children, Alex,” snapped Gabrielle.

Everyone recognised the conundrum without anyone mentioning it. There was no way Alex would consent to leaving Adam and me to our own devices for an entire weekend. The only person with half a chance of convincing him otherwise was the French beauty queen staring him down from the other end of the counter.

“How was your morning with Nicole?” Alex finally asked, trying to change the subject.

“Interesting.” He looked at me for a long moment before speaking, probably debating whether to ask me to elaborate. Thankfully, he decided against it. “So, why are you here? I thought you would have gone to see Adam.”

I grinned craftily, making him smirk. “I’m pacing myself. I don’t want to appear too eager.”

“Let me guess. You’ve already called him and he’s on his way to pick you up.”

“Exactly,” I confirmed, levering myself on to a stool beside Gabrielle.

It was a relief when Adam showed up. When Gabrielle was upset with my brother, she had no qualms about letting him know. She was unyielding, refusing to let go of her lovely but impossible plan for a weekend up north. Alex refused to budge. Her reasoning soon deteriorated to bursts of French, complete with hand gestures. I couldn’t blame her. His bags would have already been packed if not for the fact that he had an irresponsible minor in his charge.

Gabrielle dropped the attitude as soon as Adam walked in, but Alex’s ire remained. After all, Adam was fifty percent of the reason why they were at loggerheads. I leapt off the stool, throwing myself at him with the enthusiasm of someone with separation anxiety. Gabrielle said hello before spouting something in French. Adam nodded but said nothing, taking my hand.

“English, Gabi,” scolded Alex, visibly unimpressed.

She didn’t get a chance to interpret. The bell on the glass door jingled violently and Jasmine Tate burst into the café, looking as deranged and furious as I could have hoped. I quickly moved behind the counter, standing beside Alex as if that made me bulletproof.

No matter how trashy Jasmine looked, she was usually seamlessly pieced together. Now she was almost unrecognisable in the holey grey windcheater and mismatched brown track pants she wore. Her brassy blonde hair was dishevelled and pulled in a messy ponytail.

“What have you done to me?” she screeched, holding gloved hands in the air.

I cowardly said nothing.

“Charli, what’s going on?” Alex didn’t take his eyes off Jasmine.

The chief Beautiful dragged the gloves off her hands to show him. I heard Gabrielle gasp. Her bright orange hands glowed. It was a better result than I could have hoped for; I wished Nicole was there to see it.

“We’ve tried everything to get it off. Give me the antidote.” Her tone, still angry, had taken on a desperate edge.

“We didn’t poison you, stupid. There is no antidote. You’ll have to wait for it to wear off.”

“How long?” she demanded.

I shrugged. “A couple of months at most.”

Her face grew almost as flushed as her hands. The seriousness of her predicament was starting to sink in.

“Bitch!” she screamed, lunging across the counter. She managed to catch the sleeve of my shirt and began pulling me forward. Alex grabbed me around the waist, lifting me off the floor as he reclaimed me. Adam did the same thing to Jasmine, but had to struggle a lot harder against her flailing ginger hands. Gabrielle sat perfectly still, wide-eyed.

“Enough!” roared Alex, motioning with his hand for her to stay back.

“Look what she’s done to me!” shrieked Jasmine. Her lurch forward was thwarted by Adam’s grip around her middle. She managed to shrug free. “You think she’s so precious. She’s not you know,” she screamed.