Chapter FiveAfter his last client had gone home for the day, and Paula and Skye had closed their shop until tomorrow, Timothie the hairstylist slouched in his silver chair by the spacious windows of his salon, flicking through his phone messages, returning calls, and sipping coffee. The evening sun dipped low. The mobile glowed blue. Wait. Data streamed, hesitated – something was wrong. Timothie frowned. A notification appeared on f*******:, flickered, then disappeared. He'd had a momentary glimpse of a graphic of yellow roses. One notification. Disappeared. What is this caller trying to say? A friend inviting him to a party? Must know. Curiosity got the better of him.
He punched keys, trying to recover the name of the caller who planted anticipation in his mind. He was ready for a party
