6. Reviews
I'd just arrived at the salon for the start of the work day. Phil was pouring himself coffee. He took out another mug for me when he saw me. Elaine had her glasses perched on her nose and was frowning at the computer on the reception desk.
"Problem, boss?" I asked.
"Our Google reviews have been dropping. We've had five one star ratings in the past few days."
"Do they say why?" asked Phil, handing me a mug of coffee.
"Some were blank," Elaine said. "Names I don't recognize from bookings. One says Sam gave her a hacked cut. Another says she left chemicals that have destroyed her hair."
"You know that never happened, right?" Her words had made a cold sweat break out over my forehead and shoulders. Elaine was an excellent boss. She'd taken a chance on me and taught me everything I know about my work. But if I destroyed her business she'd have to cut me loose. Even if she didn't want to, a bad reputation could kill the salon, then we'd all be out of jobs. I had no other skills, and no other salon would take me on if I botched my work.
Elaine turned her frown on me, but I was clearly not the target of her frustration. "I know that, Sam. I wouldn't have given you and Phil the run of the place if I thought you'd mistreat clients. But whoever is doing this clearly has their sights on you."
"I can't imagine why," I said. "There's nothing going on in my life that would make me someone's enemy, and the only complaints I've had recently are about prices for complex work."
"Did you turn down one of your many admirers?" asked Phil.
"No more than usual," I said. Phil understood the game, probably more than me. Clients who batted their eyes at me were generally straight - or mostly so - and would be way outside their comfort zone if I took their advances seriously, but several of Phil's clients would be more than willing to take their flirting further. Of course Phil's sexuality made that beyond unlikely, but he was aware of the tension.
"What can we do?" I asked Elaine.
"Right now, it's only a few. You can't see the change in the stars on Google, but if we start to drop below four we could lose a lot of new business. I don't know how long it would take for that to affect us, because we're all busy with regular clients, but it will. No one's made any extortion demands, so maybe we should wait until they do."
"It makes me nervous," I said, "especially since they seem to be gunning for me, but I'll think about how I might have made enemies."
Elaine nodded, then checked the appointment page and moved to her chair.
There were only a few weeks until Inés left. Through her dad, she'd managed to persuade her mother to let her spend some time with Tomas before he lost access to her for months at a time. On Sunday, she would take him on a trip to a wildlife refuge forty-five minutes out of town. He was fourteen. By next year he'd probably be too cool either to see rescued big cats or to spend the day with his older sister.
Inés had strict instructions not to let him see his other sister. Inés may not be an abomination herself, but she was living with one, and Tomas wasn't allowed contact. Cici just sighed when her sister warned her, and told her to enjoy herself. It was good that Tomas would still have one family member looking out for him.
She'd be taking her father's car, but she still needed to get to her parents' place, so I dropped her, leaving before my presence made her situation awkward. Then I went back to Cici's, to spend the first peaceful day she and I had had together since Spring Break.
At Gabby's, the following day, I was complaining about the fraudulent reviews. There'd been another seven, and they didn't show any sign of slowing down. Of course, everyone wanted to know who I'd pissed off.
"She wouldn't!" I was surprised to find that Inés leaped to my defense even before Cici had a chance. This wasn't Inés's first visit. She wasn't a regular, but she joined Cici and me when she had no other plans, rather than staying home bored. And since Cici's most recent dinner party, she'd stayed in touch with Grace and Tara. "She's not like that! And she's good! Look at this!"
She shook her hair out to be admired.
"Yeah, I'm sure it has nothing to do with the quality of my work," I said. "But why me?"
"Have you reported them to Google?" Tara asked. "It takes a few days, but you can get fake reviews removed."
"Elaine wanted to see if they gave up," I said. "Clearly they're not going to."
"Could it be the cabrones?" Cici asked. "They have your name."
"They're playing with fire if it's them," I said. "If we pin it on them while the civil case isn't resolved, Maureen will nail them to the wall."
"They're not the smartest guys," Cici said.
"Yeah, but I think they'd come for you before me, and I doubt they're stupid enough to do that."
Which led of course to Cici having to explain about her assault. Even Inés didn't know all of the details, since she and Cici had been dealing mostly with their family, and she looked pale and sick as Cici told everyone about waking up in hospital, recovering from concussion and having to delay classes.
"It doesn't get us closer to Samara's reviews," Cici said, when she'd finished her story.
Tara vanished for a moment, returning with a shoulder bag, from which she extracted a tablet and a small rectangular object that unfolded into a full-sized keyboard. A moment later, she was pulling up and studying the reviews of the salon.
"There's no way to know who these people are without a subpoena to Google," she said. "Even if the account name is real, they can use a different profile name for reviews. But we can learn a little about them by looking at their other reviews. Like, is it likely that Terry here, whose profile is the cowboy dude from Toy Story, took time out of their reviews of sports bars in St. Louis to come up here for a session with Samara? Or Jenny, who seems to be dropping one star reviews all over the country?"
"That's interesting," I said, "but it doesn't help much."
"Right," Tara agreed. "But did you notice that two of the reviews are not like the others?"
"Uh..."
"One from yesterday, and one Friday," she said. "Friday says 'Avoid Sam, she's the one with all the rings on her face', and yesterday's says you touched her inappropriately."
"I'm still not seeing what you're getting to," I said.
Tara was clearly enjoying being the holder of secret knowledge, but her girlfriend popped her balloon.
"They know Sam," Grace said. "Or they know about her. The others are impersonal. You destroyed someone's hair and now she's bald. It's bogus, but it's generic. You charged her credit card twice and added your own tip. Same thing. But one of those two knows what you look like, and the other either knows you're a lesbian or at least is implying you sexually abuse women."
"Yeah, that," said Tara, a little less animatedly. "So maybe they're local. Maybe we can get more of a picture of them." She clicked on one of the reviews and followed the link to their other reviews. "These look local," she said, "but I haven't been here long. Do these tell you anything?"
"She likes burgers and coffee," said Inés, who'd edged Tara out for control of her own tablet. "Dog sitting. An Indian restaurant. Pull up the other one, maybe there will be some common places?"
She backed away so that Tara could squeeze back in and pull up the other reviews.
"Neither of them has bars or any twenty-one-plus places," Inés observed. "And..."
She stopped, looking confused. After a moment, she breathed, "¡No me jodas!" Then she turned Tara's tablet further around and pointed to a review. "Cici?"
"That's our church," my girlfriend said.
Inés looked pale. "I think this is my fault," she said. "After Sam did this..." She flicked her hair again. "I showed it off at the youth group. I haven't quit the church. I told them about how my sister's girlfriend gave me this amazing look, and how I couldn't understand that Mamá would kick my sister out when she and her girlfriend are such good people, and how wrong I'd been to hate them."
"I guess someone thinks you weren't wrong," I said.
"¡Dios! How do we fix this?" asked Inés.
"Most of the reviews aren't coming from the church, you said?" I asked, addressing Tara.
"Probably crowdsourced," she agreed. "Someone posts a request for review bombing for a shady business."
"Like on the dark web?"
Tara grinned. "More likely Reddit. There are subs for unethical solutions. I'll see if I can find the post. If it isn't an extortion attempt, the reviews will eventually stop. Likely whoever planned this wasn't happy with the low response, which is why they left their own reviews. Or else they wanted to sprinkle some verifiable personal information to make the reviews look more convincing. They could try again."
"I'll talk to the youth leader," Inés said. "I'm sure they hate gays more than dishonesty, but they should draw the line at bearing false witness."
Cici had been leaning against my side. Now she took my hand, lifted it over her shoulders and tucked it under her arm. I held her to me, fingers curled around her side, the back of my thumb nestled against the edge of her bra. "This is all because I chose you instead of my mother and church," she said.
"No, it's because I cast you in my telenovela," I said. "One day we're going to wake up and find we're no longer in a soap opera."
"Good luck with that," said Tara. She was folding up the keyboard and replacing it in her shoulder bag. "We're all in a bad soap opera. Do you have a business card?" she asked me.
I couldn't dig into my purse with my arm around Cici, so I opened it one-handed, then held it open for Cici to explore. She took out my small stack of cards, gave one to Tara, then offered them around, returning a much smaller stack to the purse.
"Do you ask your customers for reviews?" Tara asked.
"When I remember," I said.
"You should get QR codes printed on the back of your card. At least Google, Yelp and your Facebook page. Give every customer a card, even if they already have one. Tell them exactly why - 'Someone's been giving us fake reviews and hurting our reputation, so we need honest reviews.' I think you'll be surprised how many respond. I can send you something for your Facebook page to help them leave reviews, if you like. And the QR codes you need."
"That'd be great," I said. "Elaine's no more technical than me."
Tara gave me a tight smile. "Maybe I'll make a career of being the technical help, since my soap opera includes my career being eaten up by AI before I finish my first year of college. Meanwhile, you should report every fake review to Google. I can send you the link for that, too."
Cici decided she couldn't live without a car any longer. It would soon be a year since she'd moved into her apartment. Getting around on buses was tolerable, but time-consuming, and she was working full-time and studying full-time, so she was constantly rushing everywhere. We would be driving Inés to her new life, and my car was no more capable of making the trip than it had been eighteen months ago when Brooke drove me. We could rent a car, of course, but the plan motivated Cici to do what she'd been intending anyway. So there was soon a new, blue Toyota hybrid in the parking lot.
I figured my own vehicle had at least a couple of years left. I just didn't want to risk long drives or large changes in elevation.
Tara came through with everything she'd promised. QR codes, useful instructions, and a link to the post that had requested review bombing. Elaine updated our cards with the new codes to scan, while Tara commented on the thread that the bombing was to attack a lesbian stylist for being lesbian, not for quality of service. While other users might be quick to punish perceived offenders, for the most part they were anti-homophobe, and several of the reviews silently vanished. Elaine reported the others.
The experience had hurt Inés. She'd thought she was spreading acceptance. Instead, she'd given bigotry a new target. And addressing the problem with the youth leader didn't go well. Yes, he'd spread the word that it wasn't okay to disrupt the livelihood of people you disagreed with, but he'd also warned Inés that she was risking her soul associating with such people.
My job was safe, but it was hard not to feel that Inés was paying the cost in losing faith in people she once thought could be trusted.
Inés finished high school with grades that might not have been at Cici's level, but were more than enough for her chosen path. Cici and I attended her graduation ceremony, staying as far as possible from her parents.
She drank too much at her friend Megan's party. Since her last party had been alcohol-free, I had assumed that drinking wasn't a risk. I learned that I was wrong when she called me, slurring her words badly.
"Where's the new car?" she asked, as I helped her into mine. It took her much longer than usual to fasten her seatbelt, and she refused my help with it.
"One, it's Cici's, and two, from the way you sounded when you called, I didn't want you throwing up in it."
"So it's okay to throw up in this?" she asked, then turned pale.
"Okay, maybe we should change the topic. Are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah, I think so," she said. A few minutes later, she said, "Hey, Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"I really like you, you know. I'm sorry I called you... those things I called you. To Mamá. I'm glad you're with Cici, 'cause I want you to be mi hermana, too."
"Thanks, Inés," I said. "That means a lot to me. You're like the kid sister I never had, and I want only the best for you."
Cici lectured her the following day on alcohol at student parties, reminding her of her experience at Halloween, and the need to find friends who will keep you safe.
When the day came, Cici and I drove Inés to her brother's place. We left early in the morning, in Cici's comfortable Toyota, and detoured to see the waterfalls on the far side of the pass. The journey was both familiar, having made the drive twice with Brooke, and different, with no sense of urgency. Though I daresay that Cici was as heavy-hearted as I was that Inés was finally becoming independent, of her family, and of us, her temporary surrogate guardians.
Before meeting Elián, we explored the campus. Cici showed her the green, and the tree where I'd first stalked her. She promised to sit there occasionally and wave to us, but only after arranging times. She wasn't going to conduct her own daily telenovela. Then we took her to her brother's house, and unloaded the minimal belongings she'd brought, including her rag doll. Elián's eyes teared up to see Lupita.
When we were ready to leave, Cici instructed her never to leave her house without her passport card and drivers licence. "Mamá may be paranoid, but it isn't safe for us on the streets."
"¡Sí, tia! I know these things," Inés said. "Avoid getting close to raids! No drinking! You've told me many times!"
"Eres mi hermana, y te quiero," said Cici. "I don't want to see you locked up for months because a white dude in a mask thinks your skin color is un-American."
"Yes, yes, I know," Inés said. "Believe me, I don't want it to happen to me. But don't tell me not to join protests or try to make a difference."
Cici sighed. "Alright, Ine. Keep Elián and me in your phone favorites. And work hard! And enjoy yourself!"
"¡Sí, Alicia!" Inés said. "Now take your wife home and spend time with her now you have your apartment to yourselves."
"She's my girlfriend," Cici said, "not my wife."
Inés waved a dismissive hand. "Potato, patata. Just be happy."
"We will," Cici said.
Cici had driven most of the way home, while I caught up on some sleep. At the apartment, I showered, then made hot chocolate while Cici took her turn.
"I know she'll be okay," Cici said, hands wrapped around her mug, "but I worry about her."
"She will be," I agreed. "Out from under your mother's thumb, I think she'll blossom. I don't know who you inherited your good sense from, but you, Elián and Inés all seem to have plenty."
Cici set her mug down and leaned back against the couch. She hadn't dried off completely before putting on a loose tee, and the fabric had molded itself to her curves. I set my mug down, then reached out to run a finger over her breast. Her eyebrows rose.
"We have the apartment to ourselves again," I said, as I drew my finger over her collar bone to the loose neckline of the shirt. I tugged on it, and she leaned toward me.
"Yeah, we do," she said, as her lips brushed mine.
She made a contented sound as I brought both hands up to her breasts, my thumbs making soft circles on her nipples. She deepened the kiss as her nipples hardened beneath her shirt.
Breaking the kiss, I lifted her shirt over her head, then pressed her against the corner of the couch. Looking up into her eyes, I ran my tongue over her right nipple, slowly. Her eyes darkened. I started to suckle, still holding her gaze, feeling Cici's fingers slide under my shirt, then into the waistband of my pajama shorts.
She tugged the shorts down enough that she could stroke my sex. I felt myself getting wet, my breathing becoming labored, but I didn't stop kissing her delicious rounded breast.
Cici's fingers trailed over my clit, her thumb tapping against my piercing, and I let out a moan. Then she was pulling off my pajama pants. I had to wriggle a little to let her get them all the way off. When she did, she pulled my thigh into her lap, then wrapped her arm around it to press a finger into my sex.
"Nggh..." I moaned at the sudden jolt of need, panting as I writhed against her hand. I could feel how wet I was around her finger as it curved within me. Gasping, I switched to her other breast, sucking it into my mouth.
Cici's free hand forced its way between us, over my shirt, finding my breast and toying with my nipple bar. Then she began plunging her finger in and out of my sex. I cried out around her nipple, not letting it slip out of my mouth.
The more her finger drove into me, the less control I had, and the more I had to part my lips to breathe around her breast, but I kept sucking and stretching her nipple as much as I could.
When I felt my orgasm bearing down on me I gripped Cici's waist and rested my head on her chest, still trying to kiss her breast between labored breaths. Then it was upon me. I felt my body stiffen, pressing into her as intense pleasure erupted into me. I raised my head to kiss her collar bone, and anywhere else I could reach, until the ripples of feeling began to slow.
Cici's finger slipped out of me, and I lay against her panting. Then I let my body slide off hers, my knees landing on the floor. I tugged off her pants, hooked her thighs over my shoulders, and got to work. Both arms were wrapped around her legs, fingers beside her sex, parting her for my tongue.
Using lips and tongue I soon had her moaning with each breath. I slowly licked her clit, feeling her squirm beneath me, then eased my lips around her clit, suckling gently before backing away to spiral my tongue slowly against her.
Cici groaned with need. "Don't stop, Sam! Please!"
I didn't stop, but I did slow down, until she seemed ready to explode with passion. Then I gently pushed her over the edge, and she screamed my name as she fell.
Later, wrapped around Cici, I asked her, "Would you be interested in getting matching tattoos? Something small, or whatever you're comfortable with."
"I thought you avoided tattoos. They're too permanent."
I nuzzled her ear. "Exactly."