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A Matter of Style
The blonde looked up and smiled. "Hey, Ash."
"Scribbs?" Ash continued to stare at her partner with a stunned expression.
"What? Is something wrong?" Scribbs turned and looked over her shoulder to where Ash's focus appeared to be.
"Your hair? Where's your hair?"
Scribbs relaxed, pleased that no one was sneaking up behind her. "Oh, I cut it."
"Yes, I see that. But, why? Why would you do such a thing?"
Ash couldn't believe that Scribbs had dared to cut her hair. She'd gotten used to her partner's shoulder length hair, or rather, she'd found ways to appreciate Scribbs' decision to no longer sport her shorter style. Her much enjoyable method had always been picturing the way her fingers slid lazily through the lovely blonde tresses. Now, she'd have to come up with different visuals; it wouldn't be nearly as much fun imagining her fingers running through the blonde's decidedly shorter locks.
Scribbs shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I got tired of it."
"Tired of it? Couldn't you have just parted it a different way or perhaps curled it?" Ash balled her hands into tight fists. The thought of running her fingers through soft curls only served to frustrate her more. If Scribbs curled her current hairstyle, her hair would be shorter than the boss'.
"Pierre suggested I try something shorter. I told him how I used to wear my hair, and he insisted we take it further."
"Further? Scribbs, any further and you'd be bald." Ash intended to find this Pierre person and arrest him. Women listened to their hairstylist, and this guy had abused his position by offering advice that was criminal in nature.
Ash attempted to refocus her thoughts. "What happened to Sarah, the woman who usually cuts your hair?"
"You mean Sally? I told you about her, Ash. She won the lottery and bought the shop. She hired Pierre away from a Paris shop to take over as head hairstylist."
"You never told me any such thing, Scribbs." Ash folded her arms over her chest. She'd have remembered any information which would directly impact her partner's hair.
"I didn't? Huh, I thought I had." Scribbs shrugged apologetically, not truly certain why she needed to explain her change of hairstylists to her partner.
"No, you didn't, and in the future, I'd appreciate it if you'd fill me in on decisions that affect your appearance."
Scribbs grinned. "I told you about the consultant who'd pegged me as an Autumn."
"Yes, you did, and thankfully, you took my advice and disregarded her horrid suggestions. You truly did look like a fungus, Scribbs."
"So," Scribbs paused dramatically, "what do you really think about my hair, Ash?"
Ash stared at her partner, taking in the very short hair cut and trying to find something positive to say. "At least it's the same color."
"I'm guessing you're not pleased with the actual cut then." Scribbs stood, grabbing her coat from the chair. "Let's continue this in the car. Boss wants us to go talk to Mrs. Pennington about her alibi."
Nodding, Ash started towards the door. "It's really short, Scribbs; really, really short."
"It'll grow out, Ash." Scribbs increased her stride and moved ahead of her partner, affording Ash a view of the back of her head.
Ash almost stumbled. She didn't think it possible, but the cut was much shorter in the back. It would take forever for the blonde's hair to grow out, and Ash wasn't sure she could wait that long.
Suddenly, an idea leapt forward, one which would offer all sorts of possibilities and even new visuals with different hair colors. Ash hurried to catch up with her partner.
"Hey, Scribbs, ever considered wearing a wig?"
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