I pushed through the doors and into the reception area, this month decorated in a medieval castle theme. Plush red sofas lined the windows, and a large crystal chandelier hung over an intricate parquet floor. Beyond reception, cut-and-color stations outfitted with huge gilded mirrors lined the room, while lengths of thick tapestries hung from the walls, depicting scenes of men out for the hunt, while maidens wearing shockingly little for the cold English countryside fawned over fairhaired boys. A reception desk complete with turrets took up one corner of the room, and behind it stood a slim, Hispanic guy wearing more eyeliner than I even owned. As soon as he spotted me, he skipped (yes, actually skipped) toward me.

“Tina, dahling, where have you been hiding yourself?” he called, descending upon me with air kisses.

“Hi, Marco.” I returned his quick shoulder hug and stepped back. “Marco, this is Cal, my…” I trailed off, not really sure what to call him. Bodyguard seemed so melodramatic. And rent-a-goon just seemed rude.

But Marco didn’t seem to notice, grabbing Cal’s hand in both of his. “Well, hell-o, Cal.” He pumped vigorously, holding on just a little too long as his eyes rested on Cal’s biceps. “Always a pleasure to meet one of Tina’s friends.”

Oh, brother.

“So, is Katie here?” I asked, lowering my voice as my eyes scanned the salon.

Marco nodded. “Getting a touch-up. In the back.”

I looked over his shoulder to a discreet station near the rear. A brunette with big pouty lips was scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror while the master Fernando spun around her with a straight razor like he was Edward Scissorhands.

“Perfect. You think you could distract Fernando for a sec so I can talk to her?”

Marco clucked his tongue. “Aye, girl. You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

“Pretty please, Marco?” I batted my eyelashes at him. “With Brad Pitt on top?”

Marco grinned. “You know I can’t deny you, doll. Give me two shakes of a lamb’s tail, and that A-lister is yours.” He threw me a wink as he made his way through the buzzing hair dryers and pungent chemical rinses to Katie’s chair.

“Is that guy for real?” Cal asked, watching him skip (yes, skip) through the salon.

“Shhh,” I said, batting him on the arm. “Just let me do the talking.”

I waited two beats, then followed Marco’s path, my shadow a step behind me. I caught up just in time to hear him say, “So sorry to interrupt, Fernando. But something has come up at the front. Can I steal you away for the teeny tiniest moment?”

“I’ll be right back,” I heard Fernando promise Katie, then watched out of the corner of my eye as the pair made their way to the front.