Home > Books > Homicide and Halo-Halo (Tita Rosie's Kitchen Mystery #2)(56)

Homicide and Halo-Halo (Tita Rosie's Kitchen Mystery #2)(56)

Author:Mia P. Manansala

“Absolutely! We serve coffee, wine, and mimosas on Thursdays so these will go great with the drinks.” Katie helped herself to a cupcake and posed it carefully with one of our flyers before snapping a picture. She then took a big bite of the cupcake, wiping away the ube frosting that coated her lips and reapplying her lip gloss before taking a smiling selfie with it.

“Do these cupcakes have a special name? I’m about to post these pics online.”

“They’re called halo-halo cupcakes,” I spelled it out for her, “a brand-new offering at the Brew-ha Cafe. Please make sure to tag us in your post.”

“No problem.” Her fingers flew across her phone as she added a cute description and a ton of hashtags in the comments. I took a quick glance at her profile on my phone and was amazed by the amount of engagement she had—maybe I should have her or Joy help with the restaurant’s and cafe’s social media pages. I thought I’d been doing a good job, but I was clearly an amateur compared to these teens.

Once she was done, she looked up and said, “Is that all? I don’t remember seeing your names on the schedule.” She glanced at the computer to see if she was mistaken.

“No, I totally forgot to make an appointment. Do you think you could fit in three mani-pedis today?”

Katie clicked through the day’s schedule. “Hmm, we can fit in two mani-pedis but it’ll be at least a half-hour wait, possibly more.”

Before Adeena or Elena could complain, I said, “That’s fine. Put these two down for those slots. Nothing for me though?”

She gnawed on her lower lip as she scrolled through the options, occasionally studying me out of the corner of her eye. “Umm, you could probably do with a good eyebrow wax and hair treatment. My mom’s six o’clock just canceled. Would that work for you?” Ignoring that slight against my appearance—at least the Calendar Crew weren’t here to add their opinions to that remark—I agreed. She wasn’t wrong, and this was the perfect chance to speak to Winnie. Here’s hoping she loved to talk while working—I usually dreaded getting a chatty stylist, but I would gladly give her one heck of a tip if she gave me the information I needed.

I waved at Adeena and Elena as Katie led me to the shampoo station, nodding my head toward the other women in the waiting area so they could start gathering information.

“Lila, I’m so glad you finally made an appointment with me! I’ve been dying to get my hands on your gorgeous hair.” Winnie ran her hands through it, then picked up a lock to examine my split ends. “Hmm, let’s get you washed and conditioned, then we can discuss style options.”

Winnie sat me down, draped a towel around my neck and a black cape around my front to protect my clothes. “Now lean back. Just like that, yes.”

She turned on the hose and ran it over my scalp. “How’s the water? Too hot?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

After she soaked my hair, she worked in some shampoo, her strong hands and the cherry almond scent of the cleanser making me sink into the chair in bliss. “Oh my gulay, that feels so good.”

She laughed. “I have clients that love my head massages so much, they come in weekly just for a shampoo and blow-dry. Let me know if you’re interested, we can work something out.”

Paying someone to wash my hair every week sounded ridiculously decadent, but if it made me feel this good, maybe it was time to fit it into my budget. Self-care and all that.

After she’d rinsed out the shampoo and conditioned the bottom half of my hair, she wrapped a towel around my sopping wet strands and led me to her workstation.

“So what are you in for today? Cut? Color? Conditioning? All of the above?” Winnie asked as she combed out the tangles in my waist-length hair.

I took a deep breath as I realized why I’d really come there that day. What I needed to do. “I’m thinking a major chop. Maybe up to here?” I said, indicating my collarbone.

She held up a lock of hair and inspected it. “Have you been straightening your hair this whole time?”

I nodded. “My mom used to straighten it every day for me as a kid. Guess I got used to it.”

She grinned. “Considering all the heat-styling, I can’t believe it’s so healthy. Would you mind donating it? I’d be happy to send it to Locks of Love or a similar organization for you.”

I smiled, glad my beloved hair was going to a good cause. “I’d love that. Thanks for the suggestion.”

Winnie braided my hair, humming as she did so. Before she picked up her scissors she said, “This is a big cut. Are you sure you want to do this?”

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