nagareboshi reviews: Wednesday Briefs: Gonna Wash Him Right Out

This week on Wednesday Briefs, the stars are in alignment and sun flares are on the rise. The tides are shifting in strange ways, there are three rainbows coming out of the sea, and Damon Lindelof is riding down a mountain side on his precious Swan Hatch door/coffee table.

Why? Because I didn't write a fanfic. I wrote a piece of original fiction! The first part of a continuing series! I don't know exactly how it will play out, but I hope y'all join me in finding out how this story goes.

Washed Right Out, Chapter One. Original fiction. Prompt used: cell phone, plants, shampoo.

Samantha was wrist-deep in Riley's Medusa-esque head of curls situated over the sink when the cell phone hanging off her hip began to play a mariachi cover of "Bohemian Rhapsody", clashing with Les Belles Vagues Boutique's aesthetic of overflowing potted plants and colorful tile art.

She didn't pause in her current task of turning Riley's hair into a bubbly mess of lather and oils. Riley felt her fingers continue to massage their way through his scalp. He could smell lemongrass and coconut and the occasional whiff of lavender wafting off the scented candles that Sonia insisted on lighting every business day.

A moment ago, he’d succeeded in forgetting all of his troubles and surrendering his hair to Samantha's expertise. She was the nicest one of the shop's stylists, the platinum blonde nerd girl whom he always gravitated to for his tangle taming. Now the mood had been broken by the wail of Spanish guitar trying to be Freddie Mercury.

Jojo would have laughed at this, Riley thought. Jojo loves weird covers. He softly bit his inner cheek. Jojo—no, Jonathan—wasn't there, not any more. "Y'gonna answer that, Sam?"

"I'm sure it can wait 'til later. Your hair is my main concern right now." There was also the fact that Riley was currently the only customer in Les Belles Vagues, the benefit of booking an appointment in the middle of the week and during the day. "Now close your eyes and try to breathe through your nose, okay?"

Riley did as he was asked, and was soon caught under a cascade of warm water running through his hair, trickling across his forehead and neck. Through the torrent of foam and water, he could make out the sound of heels clicking across the boutique floor. Already, he knew it was Sonia, the only one who wore Jimmy Choo stilettos to work. He didn't know a damn thing about shoes, but he knew Sonia, which meant he knew by association all her favorite brands and stores and places to purchase a decent strand of diamonds in any color. He didn't even have to ask.

Samantha's phone was now on its third iteration of Mexican Mercury. "Dear, your phone is ringing." Sonia's posh English tones lifted above the sound of running water. "Are you almost finished with the poor boy's hair?"

"Does it look like it?" Riley could feel Samantha wave the water back and forth across his lowered head.

"Of course not, dear. But if I have to hear your mobile ring one more time, you might be."

"All right, I'd like to see you come over here and enforce that one." To Riley—"Hold your breath, Riles, it's the last wave."

He took in a big breath right before Samantha set the water against the peak of his scalp, sending his curls in all directions. The back and forth between Sam and Sonia was usual for them on a Wednesday. Sam could pretty much get away with saying anything to Sonia—one of the benefits of being best friends and step-sisters.

Sonia's heels went to clicking in a pattern now familiar to Riley. She would now be checking on her precious candles, making sure they hadn’t flickered in the past hour. "Darling, if that's Karen calling, just let me answer. I'll tell her something you couldn't bring yourself to say without fainting."

"Shush." Samantha turned off the spray and left Riley, head hanging over the sink. For a second, all he heard was the sound of water dropping off of his black curls and hitting the basin. He opened his eyes to see Samantha strip her gloves off and drop them in a nearby trash can. "The things I tell Karen after work would make all of you faint, anyway."

On the other side of him, Sonia snorted, her nose wrinkling her perfectly blushed brown skin. "Getting to first base while watching 'Star Trek' doesn't count as a sultry tale of lovemaking, dear."

"C'mon." Riley groaned. "The last thing I want to hear is about people canoodling, or whatever."

Before he knew it, both Sonia and Samantha were standing above him. Samantha looked deathly concerned for Riley while still managing to pull on a fresh pair of gloves. Next to her, Sonia was obviously more invested in the juicier details, her face betraying a stark interest in some drama.

"What?" He blinked. "Seriously, what?"

"Did something happen?" Samantha asked. She started hand wringing, which seemed less genuine when her hands were covered in white latex.

"Yeah, you're usually one of the first people in line to hear about people canoodling," Sonia pointed out. "After me, naturally."

He could practically hear Jonathan's voice in the background. "Watching 'TMZ' again? Isn't there a better way to spend your afternoon than killing brain cells?" The memory was enough to set Riley's mouth into a hard grimace. The expression did not become him.

"That bad, dear?"

Riley nodded once, slowly. "That bad."

"All right, Riley Paolini," Sonia ordered. "Spill the details."

"Or what?"

"Or Samantha dear won't style your hair."

Samantha shrugged. She didn't even look moved by Riley's silent plea with his eyes. "I want to know, too."

Riley sighed. Maybe if he got it over with, there'd still be time for Samantha to treat his fragile hair. The longer it sat dripping wet, the longer it would take to treat. And to think, it had only been a few days ago that Riley would have stepped through the front doors of the boutique accompanied by his then long-term boyfriend.

"Fine. It happened last week. I broke up with Jonathan."

Here are the other bloggers who are flashing this week: