Dottie shot Adelaide a look that was half disbelief and half fear, then looked back at Marina. “We were at the salon earlier today having our hair done.”

“Ha!” Halcyon said, choking on her wine. “You’ve never done your hair in Patricia’s place and that one looks like she does hers with a Weed Eater.”

“I have been known to trim it up with gardening shears,” Adelaide said.

Halcyon stared. “Did you miss the line where they handed out girl genes?”

Adelaide nodded. “I missed the one where they handed out giving a damn, too.”

“Anyway,” Dottie said loudly. “We heard about your troubles with Harold and that—”

“Hoochie,” Adelaide interrupted.

“Do people still say that?” Marina asked.

“We’ve never gotten confirmation that Adelaide is ‘people,’” Halcyon said.

Adelaide gave her the finger and served herself another round of wine.

Dottie took a deep breath and started again. “The bottom line is that we were concerned, with Patricia being Chastity’s aunt and also your employer, that there might be trouble for you.”

A wave of dismay passed over Marina. “Oh crap. I hadn’t even thought that far. I mean, I figured Patricia would side with Chastity, but I guess I didn’t think that my job might be on the line.”

Halcyon let out a stream of cursing and Adelaide gave her an approving nod.

“That bitch will do anything to stay in Preston’s good graces,” Adelaide said.

Dottie nodded. “And I’m afraid keeping Princess Chastity up on a pedestal is a priority for him.”

“No way Patricia wants to lose the income Marina brings in,” Halcyon said, but she didn’t sound convinced.

“She’d just push all Marina’s customers off to Helen,” Dottie said. “I never see Helen working when I walk by the salon.”

“That’s because she sucks,” Adelaide said. “I get a straighter cut with my gardening shears. All I had her do earlier was a simple roll, and half of them had fallen out before I was a block away.”

“If Patricia forces clients on Helen, they’ll go somewhere else to have their hair done,” Halcyon said.

“Where?” Dottie asked. “The nearest shop is across the bayou in Double Deuces, and with the age-old feud between the two towns, no one will want to do business there. Anywhere else is going to be a thirty-minute drive or better, and that’s assuming you don’t run into road construction, bridge outages, and farmers moving their heavy equipment.”

“Or a crawfish migration,” Adelaide said.

“Might as well go to New Orleans,” Halcyon said.

Dottie nodded. “Except most don’t have the time to drive all the way to New Orleans for a hair appointment or the money to pay the steeper prices it costs in the city.”

“You could start a carpool,” Adelaide said. “That Cadillac of yours will probably hold five people…four if you pick a bunch of wide butts.”

“I have no desire to become bayou Uber,” Dottie said.

“She’s right, though,” Halcyon said. “If the options are Deuces or driving to NOLA, then a lot of people are going to be stuck with Helen. Good God, can you imagine all the selfies on Facebook once Helen gets a hold of half the population’s hair?”