Bitter Cuts

BITTER CUTS

Serena L’Amour

Smashwords Edition 1.0, December 2010

Copyright 2010 Serena L’Amour

* * * * *

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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respecting the author's work.

Bitter Cuts is a work of
fiction. All names, characters, and incidents appearing in this
work are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.

Full catalog of
works by Serena L'Amour available at:
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/batcityerotica

* * * * *

Olivia Foster paid a steeper
price that most could imagine to live and work in Hollywood. She'd
grown up in a small town in Wisconsin, but she spent her teenage
years longing for a life in California, among the glitz and the
glamour. She took a bus to the city shortly after she graduated
high school, and found a steady job as an assistant at Bitter Cuts.
She worked tirelessly during the day and went to school at night,
in pursuit of her dream of becoming a full time stylist, and
perhaps one day, she'd be doing hair for movie stars.

But, as always, life has a way
of crushing a young girl's dreams, as well as her heart. She had
been working at the salon a year now, and had been treated harshly
several times. Olivia was beautiful, with blonde hair and blue
eyes, thick and curvy in all the right places. Back home, she had a
steady boyfriend, but out here, she was the fat girl, the one that
got passed over in lieu of the “beautiful ones”, in both her career
and romantic pursuits.

Olivia was hired to shampoo
clients, answer the phones, wash and dry the towels, and on her
down time, she was allowed to practice cutting on the mannequins.
But for the most part, Alexis Favreau, the manager of Bitter Cuts,
treated the young girl very brutally. She'd make her work after
hours, without overtime, closing the salon and cleaning the floors
and tanning booths. Olivia would often stay at work for hours after
her chores were done, perfecting her styles on the plastic women in
hopes that Alexis would come in the next morning and compliment her
work, and maybe give her a shot on a real client.

But the next morning was like
every other one. “What a total clusterfuck!” barked Alexis.
“Olivia, there's no way in Hell you're going to make it in this
business. I mean, just look at this hair!” The other stylists,
including Jenna, whom Olivia once considered a friend, and T-Man,
Alexis' gay twin brother, the bitchiest of them all, laughed and
gathered around to watch the humiliation. “Look, honey,” said
T-Man. “This might have worked in Pigsville, or wherever the fuck
you came from, but this is SoCal. You need to do yourself a favor:
give it up. You're not even that good a maid!”

Olivia fought her feelings and
was able to hold back the tears, at least for a little while. “Just
take the damn trash out, and then come back and get to cleaning.
I've wasted enough of my time with you.” Alexis turned around and a
huge fake smile came across her face. “Darling, come in, sit down,”
she told a client, as Olivia headed to the back room.

Olivia wiped her face and
proceeded to empty the small trash cans into a larger bag, then
headed out the back door towards the dumpster.
Fucking bitch
, she
thought, as the emotions overcame her while she was throwing the
trash into the larger receptacle. Finally, she could take no more
and slumped down in the back alley and broke into tears.
What the fuck do I have to do to make
it in this world
, she said as she cried
to herself. She looked over as she noticed something bright drive
by the alley. She noticed a shiny red Corvette pass and the
handsome gentleman driver wave to her and smile.
Hiya there
,
she said silently, as she waved and smiled back.
Great, just what I need today, one
more image of something I'll never have.

“Oh, Olivia, dear,” she
heard Jenna bellow from inside the salon. “Your shampoo services
are needed inside!”

Deep
breaths,
Olivia told herself, as she
inhaled and exhaled slowly. She got up, collected herself, fixed
her hair in a broken mirror on the ground, and returned inside
Bitter Cuts.

The rest of the day went similar
to the morning, as did every day she spent at the salon. Alexis
would slash away at her self-esteem, and the other stylists would
follow suit, making rude comments about her weight and laughing as
she passed by. The customers weren't much better, and Olivia wasn't
sure if they truly despised her as did her co-workers, or if they
remained silent because a good stylist is hard to find in this
town.

As closing time approached,
Alexis called Olivia into her office. “Sit down, dear,” she told
her, and Olivia complied. “It's been a tough year, hasn't it?” she
asked.

“I'm a hard worker,”
replied Olivia, “I do what it takes to make it in this
field.”

“Well, rest assured, your
work hasn't gone unnoticed,” said Alexis, as the others started to
gather around their boss' door. “I have something for
you.”

Olivia smiled, as she viewed a
gilded frame, thinking it was an apprentice license. “Oh, Alexis,”
she said, gushing as she reached for Alexis' gift. “I've waited so
long for this, I promise, you won't be disappointed.”

“It's certainly a title
you deserve,” smiled Jenna, as she crossed her arms in preparation
for Olivia's reaction.

Olivia smiled again and looked
down, then looked up and all around at the other stylists
surrounding her. As she turned the frame around, she noticed the
paper inside wasn't what she expected, but a certificate that read
'Hollywood's Husky Lil' Heifer', complete with a photo of a cow
wearing a wig, similar in color to Olivia's own hair.

As Alexis, Jenna, and the
rest of the girls laughed, Olivia clutched the frame, listening to
the group sing 'for she's a jolly good heifer'. Olivia ran out of
the office into the alley, where she broke down and cried like
she'd never done before.
Why
do they have to be so fucking cruel,
she
asked herself.
What the hell
did I ever do to any of them?
She buried
her head in her lap and continued sobbing, until the clicks of
heels from inside interrupted her.

“Get this place looking
sharp by tomorrow morning,” said Alexis, as her entourage stood
behind her. “Or you won't have a wall to even hang that fucking
thing on.” Alexis looked around at her underlings. “Drinks at the
Avalon?” she asked them, as they all smiled, nodded, and headed
back inside to gather their things. Alexis stooped down to stare
Olivia in the face. “Go back to the farm, baby girl,” she said with
an evil grin. “You're just not good enough to make it out on the
West Coast.” Alexis turned around, waved and went back
inside.

Olivia continued to cry in
spurts during the course of the evening as she scrubbed Bitter Cuts
from top to bottom. She shut the main lights down, made sure the
front door was locked, and took her last bag of garbage out to the
alley. When she opened the back door, she noticed a stranger
standing against the dumpster. To say he was handsome wouldn't have
done him justice – he was about six foot five, with dark brown hair
and piercing green eyes, and his body, which must have been built
solely for sin, was very well dressed in an Armani suit.

“Long day, huh?” he said
to Olivia, smiling. Olivia looked one way down the alley, as she
was scared out of her mind that a stranger, even a beautiful one,
was approaching her. As she looked the other way, she noticed the
Corvette she'd seen earlier, and could immediately connect the
gentleman with the luxurious ride. “Yep, it's mine,” he said. “Care
to go for a ride?”

“No, thanks, “ she
replied, not making eye contact with the gorgeous man.

“Come on, why don't you
tell me what's the matter,” he urged. “You look like a woman who
could use some pampering.”

“And you look like a man
who needs to mind his own business,” replied Olivia. “I'm going to
tell you nicely – once – get out of here. The next time I have
anything to say, I'll let mace and a 911 call do the
talking.”

“Fair enough,” he said,
walking back towards his vehicle. “Sorry to have bothered
you.”

Olivia watched as he
entered his car and sped out of site.
Probably another one of Alexis' set-ups,
she thought, as she went back inside.
Damn, she said to herself, I forgot the tanning
booths,
and she went to clean those
areas.
Might as well pump up
the music,
as she turned the radio on to
a loud volume and scrubbed her frustrations out. She worked hard
for about an hour, and when she was finished, she shut the music
off and headed towards the front of the salon.

When she rounded the corner, she
saw a silhouette sitting at the main reception desk with feet
propped up. “Who the hell is there!” she yelled. “I've got a phone
and a bat, and I've already made up my mind which to use first!”
She flipped on the lights to reveal the same person she'd run into
outside. “You don't take hints real well, do you?”

“And you don't have a bat,
now do you?” he smiled and replied.

“Who are you, and how the
hell did you get in here?” said Olivia, reaching for the phone to
call the police.

The man grabbed her hand. “Just
wait a minute, let me explain,” he told her, but Olivia was already
frozen stiff from fear. She started to cry again, and the man
realized he'd put the poor girl through enough already. Olivia
freed herself from his grasp, quickly gathered her belongings, and
ran out the front, not even bothering to lock the door behind
her.

Who is that
gorgeous girl,
said the man to himself.
He couldn't imagine why such a beautiful and vibrant woman would be
sad, especially working in this great city and in a fabulous
industry. He looked around the place, running his fingers along the
counters, not bringing up a speck of dust. As he walked towards the
back office, he noticed some mannequins with very stylish haircuts
and highlights.
Not bad at
all,
he said to himself, Alexis' girls
are coming up with some really interesting looks. But he became
frustrated as he looked over the expense reports of his
salon.
Alexis does some good
work here,
he thought,
but that crazy bitch is costing me an
arm and a leg to keep this place open.
He
flipped through the pages of the sales log and became increasingly
angry at the fact that his merchandise bills were so high, yet his
inventory was stocked quite low. And all through the night, and in
the midst of his irritation, he kept imagining the beautiful girl
with the sad face who ran out of his salon mere moments ago.
Finally, at his wits' end, he pulled his cell phone out of his
pocket and dialed a number.

“Paolo,” he said. “It's
George. How's business over there?”

“Busy as usual, Mr.
Bitter. Are you be joining us for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, can you set me up
with a little something around nine?”

“Will there be a young
lady tonight?” replied Paolo.

“I'm afraid not,” said
George. “At least not tonight.”

“Surely there are more
than enough suitable candidates in the City of Angels?”

“Most of them aren't my
type, and wear nothing but broken wings.”

“I forgot who I was
speaking to – George Bitter, the hopeless romantic,” laughed Paolo.
“Most people would say you're a little touched in the head, but I
say good. It's nice to see something as rare as good taste in the
modern world. She'll find you, my friend. Have faith, and until
then, have a good meal … my treat.”

“Thanks, Paolo,” replied
George. “I'll see you a little later on.”

* * * * *

Olivia's pulse was racing
as she sped home to her small apartment, rushed up the two flights
of stairs and quickly locked the door behind her.
Is this entire city insane,
she asked herself as she caught her breath. She
looked out her window for about twenty minutes to see if the
stranger had followed her home, and when it was clear that he had
not, she let out a deep sigh of relief. A drink was something she
rarely indulged in, but she figured she'd earned one, or two,
considering the events of her day. Olivia went into her kitchen and
poured herself a glass of orange vodka and cranberry juice.
Rather tasty,
she thought, as she finished the beverage in record
time,
think I might just have
to make another one of those.
By the time
she'd finished her third drink, Olivia was more than just a little
tipsy, and decided the night would be best ended by a long hot
soak.