Rain

Leandra Jamison studies the cobwebbed ceiling tiles as her hairdresser scrubs a mint shampoo into her hair. "I hate these sinks."

"Why?" Cyndee rubs vigorously, jamming Leandra's neck into cold ceramic.

"They hurt my neck."

"Oh. Here." Cyndee reaches into the cabinet above her head and brings down two thin towels which she doubles over. "Lift." Leandra does and Cyndee shoves the towels beneath her head. "Better?"

No. "Yes. Thanks."

Cyndee pats Leandra's shoulder. "You got to learn to speak up, honey. Hear me?"

"OK," Leandra says.

Cyndee shuts off the water and wraps a clean towel around Leandra's head. "Follow me."

Leandra hoists herself from the chair, arthritic knees groaning in protest, and sits in the chair Cyndee indicates, arranging herself on the vinyl.

"So what's new?" Cyndee asks as Leandra studies the photographs taped to the mirror.

"We're moving," Leandra says.

"Exciting!" Cyndee unwraps Leandra's head and begins toweling out her hair. She throws a dirty smock across her chest and fastens it at the neck. "Where to?"

"Home."

"That's great. Did you find a house?"

"Yep."

"Nice and new?"

"Hundred years."

"Your husband handy?"

"Not really."

"But it's well-maintained, I'm sure." Cyndee takes a comb from the jar of blue disinfectant. Leandra watches other people's dandruff swirl around inside. "Did you sell your house?"

"Not yet."

"Two mortgages?"

"Yeah."

"That's gonna' be hard with two in college."

"A little."

"You work?"

Leandra laughs. "I'm a writer."

Cyndee presses a finger to her chin. "You know, the Moonlight is hiring dancers. I have a friend who clears two thousand a night there."

"I'm not sure I'm the type of person they're looking..." Leandra gestures vaguely at her stomach and her thighs.

"Oh, don't you worry. They take anybody down there. Those men will rain the money down on you, even with those extra twenty pounds."

Leandra stares at Cyndee.

"I mean..." Cyndee's face falls. "It's just an idea."

Cyndee doesn't get a tip. Leandra has learned to speak up. In silence.

This was written for this week's Trifecta Writing Challenge.

The April Fool's word was rain: 3: to take a lot of money in bill form and toss it up in the air. This is most effectively done at a strip club for the effect of raining one dollar bills on the dancers (and it makes them feel so pretty), or to snub a hater by throwing money into their face that then falls to the floor like rain (use this when paying a debt to a punk bitch who keeps asking for their money to the point that they are ruining your friendship or when dumping someone who has been bankrolling you for a while now that you're making money).