“Yes, it sure is,” I said in the upbeat tone I always used with customers.
Normally I would have struck up a conversation about her summer plans since it was May and she was a teacher. Or I’d have asked her how her kids were doing.
But not today. Today I couldn’t look away from CNN, which was covering the tornadoes that had touched down this afternoon in Missouri. The damage was widespread and included cellular towers. I told myself that was why Colby hadn’t texted me all afternoon. It had to be why.
“Isn’t that a shame about those storms?” Mrs. Landon said as I rinsed away the suds. “I heard on the radio that a school was hit. They’re calling in the National Guard.”
“That’s terrible,” I murmured, squinting to read the headlines scrolling across the bottom of the screen.
“Isn’t your fiancé one of those storm chasers? You’re engaged to Carla Harrington’s boy, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said absently. “Colby. He’s in Missouri now with the rest of his team.”
She whipped her head around to look at me, showering me with droplets of water.
“Well, is he okay?” she practically demanded.
“I don’t know. I haven’t been able to reach him this afternoon.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus. Carla must be beside herself. Have you talked to her?”
I shook my head. “I’m not panicked. Colby’s probably still tracking storms or helping with rescue. He’ll call me when he can.”
She grunted skeptically. “Well, I’d be worried sick if the man I loved was out in that mess. It’s foolhardy if you ask me, chasing a tornado. We’re meant to run away from them.”
I wanted to point out that I hadn’t asked her, and that storm chasers put their lives in danger to save others, but I forced myself to stay quiet. Shampoo Girl Rule Number One: never upset a customer.
My job was to shampoo, condition and make light conversation. I also waxed the occasional upper lip, though I wasn’t licensed to do it. I wouldn’t touch brows, though. That took finesse. An upper lip was hard to mess up.
I conditioned and rinsed Mrs. Landon and wrapped a towel around her head. When she sat up, she passed me a couple folded bills.
“Thank you, Drew. I hope Colby’s okay.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Landon. Bet you’re looking forward to summer.”
“You have no idea,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s been a long year.”
My boss Shayla called Mrs. Landon over to her chair and I went to the front desk to check messages and return calls. I was closer to the TV, and I could read the headlines well now.
Nine confirmed dead…
Factory leveled by storm…
Couple narrowly escapes twister…
I swallowed hard. Every time Colby left for a storm chasing trip, I felt a surge of pride. He was brave and bold. He cared about others enough to go away for weeks at a time in hopes of saving lives. It wasn’t thrill-seeking for him. The leader of his five-man crew was a meteorologist running a research project. They studied weather patterns to predict and identify bad weather so people could take cover when storms were approaching. But the nature of the work always put them at risk.
They were safe. He was only twenty-six, but he’d been doing this for almost a decade. He’d been shown the ropes by the father of one of his friends and had fallen hard for storm chasing. I mentally reassured myself as I returned calls and scheduled appointments.
Colby knew I wasn’t a woman who needed constant reassurance. I trusted him in every way. I wasn’t so self-absorbed that I thought he’d stop to call me while searching for people buried in rubble.
I tried to split my focus between working and watching CNN. But the more time that passed without my phone buzzing with an incoming text, the harder it became to think of anything but Colby.
Shayla locked the salon door after her last customer left and turned to me with a concerned expression.
“Any word?” she asked.
I shook my head silently.
“You go on home, sugar. I’ll clean up tonight.”
“Thanks, but I’m okay,” I said. “I need to stay busy while I wait to hear from him. Plus, I don’t have cable at home. Okay if I leave the TV on while I clean?”
“Of course,” she said, waving dismissively. “I can stay and help if you want some company.”
“I’m lousy company right now.”
“Anything I can do?”
“No, but thanks. All I can do is wait.”
She came over and hugged me tight, her familiar powdery-sweet scent reassuring me. Shayla co-owned the salon with another stylist, Jackie, and they were the best bosses I could ask for.
“Text me when you hear from him,” she said.
I followed her to the door and locked it behind her. Then I cranked up CNN and followed the coverage as I swept hair from the salon’s tiled floor.