Chapter 3 - A PUBLIC RECKONING AT THE SALON
I did not mail the eviction notice. I wanted to hand it to her myself. Monday morning, I drove to the upscale salon where Brenda rented a chair. The place was bustling with morning clients, the air thick with the scent of hairspray and expensive shampoos. Brenda was laughing with a client, casually snipping away, acting as if she had not shattered a seven-year-old’s spirit forty-eight hours prior.
When she saw me approach, a smug, triumphant smirk spread across her face. "Here to apologize, Rafa?" she sneered loudly, ensuring the surrounding stylists could hear. "Or are you bringing Emma in for a touch-up?"
I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to. I pulled the legal document from my jacket and dropped it on her styling station. "This is a thirty-day notice to vacate my property," I said, my voice carrying a cold, dead weight that silenced the room. "The utilities will be shut off in your name on the first of the month. You are being evicted."
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Brenda’s smirk vanished, replaced by a pale, trembling panic. "You can't do this! I have a lease!" she shrieked.
"You have a month-to-month courtesy agreement," I corrected her, turning to the salon owner who had stepped out of the back office. "And you should ask your stylist here what she does to little girls who trust her." Before I walked out, I looked my sister dead in the eyes. "Enjoy the real world, Brenda."
