Novel & Cerita Aunt Beauty Salon

I tell him, frowning as I watch dust particles drift to the floor. My father walks out of his office, looking at my mother. “What’s in your hair?” He asks, scrunching up his nose. “Elf dust.” She tells him proudly. “So, I guess the threat has been nullified?” “Disintegrated.” Aunt Angel says as Uncle Liam comes to stand behind her with a similar look of disgust on his face as he looks her over. “You need a bath, love.” He tells her. “Want to wash my hair?” She asks him coyly. In an instant, she’s over his shoulder and he’s turned around heading back to their room as she giggles like a young girl.

The place was called Jackie's Beauty Salon and it was owned by one of the student's parents from our school. Jackie was in his early forties and is one of the sassiest and coolest mothers I've met. After getting divorced, she decided to quit her job as an accountant and sold all her assets to pursue her dream of opening her own beauty salon. One of the perks of having a mother that owns a beauty salon is that her daughter always had the cutest nails in school — even though nail polish was banned.

They lived in a suburban area in upper east Dallas with a three-car garage and fancy shrubs. Mom and I always laughed at the thought of my aunt doing yardwork, which she pretended to do, but we all knew she paid someone to do it. I knocked on the door at seven, straightening my dress and hair before Aunt Jenny opened the door. She looked plucked straight out of Stepford Wives. Her bleached hair always looked fresh from the salon. She had green eyes, a slender nose that mom swore wasn't hers and high-cheek bones.

she says gesturing to the chair in front of her dressing mirror. I hesitate for a moment before doing as she instructed, she grabs some hair supplies from a drawer and begins working on my hair. I sit quietly waiting for her to work her magic. I have faith in my aunty when it comes to beautification. She's a pro. She had a salon for eight years before she gave it up to work at the company. “Done.” she says after 30 mins. I move my head from side to side and watch in awe as my hair follows my movement revived from the dead, “Aunty you’re a genius!” I say standing to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Marzon. Chantyll’s mother have tell me a lot of things about you! It is just that I did not expect you to be this charming...” What the hell? I winced when I saw Auntie Amanda’s hands were already on Vren’s arms. In no time, I interfere with their talk. “Auntie, I am going to fit the gown now..” “Oh, yes, yes! This way!” she said and stepped back.

'I have to find a way to avoid meeting them. "You are a student of Abraham High School? Your skin is so soft," said the salon worker. "You are like a girl. I'm so jealous of you." Jonea was barely listening to the conversation. She was too preoccupied to think of a way to escape tonight's auction. They had done Jonea's makeup and put on her wig. The salon workers even held back their laughter at Jonea's appearance. "You think this is funny?" grunted Jonea.

"But don't let that fool you. She's the strongest woman I know. She's got a wicked sense of humor and a zest for life that's contagious." Blaire, ever the planner, pulled up a picture of the salon we were aiming for on her phone. "It's called 'The Vintage Chic,'" she explained, scrolling through pictures of glamorous women sporting perfectly coiffed hair and impeccably manicured nails. "'Look at these chrome accents! And those crystal chandeliers? It looks like something out of a movie!" Mom's eyes widened. "Oh my, it looks…fancy," she said, a hint of apprehension creeping into her voice.

That was my aunt. There was a photo of her in the information that Enzo had received. You could tell that she was related to Mom. There were many similarities to the photo that showed Mom’s true Fae looks. The main difference was hair color. My aunt’s hair color was black and looked to have red undertones in it. I wasn’t certain if it was natural or not, but it looked cool. She was an artist who owned and ran a gallery in Phoenix. I’d always appreciated art in all forms whether it was from centuries ago or created last week. There was something timeless about truly beautiful artwork.

She asked, looking quite scared at the possibility. "I do not have a wish to lose my scalp in the name of making my hair." I couldn't help but laugh at that, something she soon joined in; the both of us reminiscing that incident. Juliette had innocently complained to her Aunt Leticia, that she was feeling too lazy to make the thirty-five minutes’ drive to Annie's Hair Salon. Aunt Leticia wanting to help, offered to make Juliette's hair for her. Not having to go to a salon, and just having your aunt make your hair right in the comfort of your home - sounds perfect, right?

At once, a surge of deep hatred welled up within me. Just a week ago, Stella had told me that she was bringing Grandma on a trip around the world. But as it turned out, she ended up using Grandma as a clinical model for her inaugural hymenoplasty surgery at the hospital! She was such a beast! How dare she do such a thing to Grandma and humiliate the dignified matriarch of the Greene family like this? Tears immediately sprang from my eyes. This time, I turned and glared at Stella with fierce hatred.