Chapter One
A morning at Ninas
Chapter One — A Normal Morning at Nina’s
Music floated through the salon before the doors even opened.
Rico had control of the playlist, which meant something dramatic and emotional was playing at 9:03 in the morning.
“It sets the mood,” he insisted, adjusting the volume like he was on stage at Wembley. “We are artists. Artists require atmosphere.”
Rico was slim, sharp-featured, always dressed like someone might be watching. His hair never moved, his eyebrows permanently judging the world, and his mouth always half a second away from a comment he probably shouldn’t say — but would anyway.
Berta snorted from her station, already halfway through her first coffee.
Berta was big, loud, and hilarious. Her laugh arrived before she did, her humour was dry and dangerous, and her honesty came without brakes.
“The only atmosphere you need is caffeine and a client who doesn’t say ‘just a trim’ and mean ‘chop it all off,’” she said, tying her apron with dramatic force. “Morning, Nina. Tell him to put something with a beat on before I fall asleep standing up.”
Nina smiled from the desk, calm as ever, checking the bookings.
Nina was a little older than the others, but beautiful in a quiet, peaceful way. Silver rings, soft fabrics, gentle eyes. She had the kind of presence that made people breathe easier without knowing why. Everyone loved Nina — clients, strangers, delivery drivers.
“Let him have his moment,” she said softly. “It’s only Wednesday.”
Rico spun his chair around. “Exactly. Midweek slump. We rise through music.”
Berta leaned toward Nina and muttered loud enough for Rico to hear, “He says that like he didn’t cry over a break-up song last Tuesday while blow-drying Mrs Evans.”
“I was connecting emotionally,” Rico said, hand to chest. “That’s why my blow-dries have soul.”
The salon door hadn’t even opened yet and they were already in full swing.
Nina’s wasn’t glamorous. It was better than that. It was lived in. Real. A place where people laughed loudly, told stories, and sometimes cried without meaning to.
In a town of about ten thousand people, two hours from New York but a world away in pace, Nina’s was where life happened.
The bell above the door chimed.
All three of them looked up.
And then everything shifted.
She stepped inside like she’d walked out of a different world.
Long coat. Perfect posture. Hair that should have been stunning… but looked tired. Expensive without trying. Elegant without effort.
Berta blinked.
Rico whispered, “Oh… we have royalty.”
Nina stood, her voice warm and steady. “Hi there. Welcome in.”
The woman smiled politely. Carefully.
“Do you have any availability today?” she asked.
Her voice was soft, controlled. Like someone who thought before every word.
Berta leaned toward Rico and whispered, “I give it five minutes before you try to adopt her.”
“I’m simply appreciating aesthetics,” Rico whispered back.
Nina walked toward the woman.
“What’s your name?” she asked gently.
“Sally.”
The name sat in the air like it didn’t quite belong to her.
Berta gave Nina a look across the salon.
This one has a story.
And Nina already knew.
“Come through,” Nina said softly. “We’ll take care of you.”
Sally walked toward the chair.
Rico turned to Berta. “Tell me I’m not the only one who thinks she looks like someone who’s running from something.”
Berta took a slow sip of coffee.
“Oh sweetheart,” she said. “Nobody dresses like that unless they’ve got a past.”
Next chapter in two weeks…
