"Ariel. This is too much," Abigail muttered, gripping the armrest as she sank into the plush chair of this high-end salon, "A simple trim would have been fine," She watched a stylist through the mirror, approaching her with a pair of scissors.
"Nonsense!" Ariel waved her off, without looking up, flipping through a magazine, "You need to get rid of that rough part. It's time for a proper hairstyle."
"My hair is just fine!"
Ariel gave her a warning glare just like a stern mom would do.
Abigail couldn't say anything when the stylist started snipping away. Meanwhile, two attendants began working on her nails.
"Who gets a pedicure or manicure during a haircut?" she was sitting there like a dummy, scared of the scissors near her head.
"Don't worry. She is good at her job and will let you go before your massage," Abigail groaned when her feet were soaked in warm water.
