At one hundred and one degrees Fahrenheit, the sweat trickled down the back of her neck and between her breasts in minutes. The short pieces of hair that came off the buzzer stuck to her making her itch and wish for a cool shower. She sauntered back over to her counter and picked up the buzzer, flipping it on.
“Yeah, just my luck too, that stupid thing crashing. At least you’re my last customer today, and I’m almost done. Just a few minutes more. I have to head over to my sister's for a BBQ tonight, so I decided to close up early today. Too hot anyway.” She passed the comb over the crown of his head, lifting it up for the man’s flat-top. He’d been in many times before and got better looking each time she saw him. The crinkles around his eyes were more pronounced this time, and he now had some silver at his temples. Not much, just a smattering.
She glanced at his neck and shoulders as she trimmed the hair at his nape. The clippers revealed pale skin as hair fell away, leaving a dark tan-line. He probably worked outside. His shoulders were broad under the barber cape, and his fingers and nails were banged.
“So what do you do?” She hated such general questions, but some men never liked to chitchat while they got their hair done.
“I’m a mechanic.”
“Oh? Where?”
“Over on the corner at the Mobil station.”
“I thought with your tan you worked outside.”
“No, I’ve owned the place for thirteen years now. I got the tan at the beach last week.”
“Must be hell this week working in there. All those fumes.”
“Yeah.” He wiped his hands on the black nylon cape.
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