Chapitre 37: Alexander Locke

The man's voice was deep and slow, with a tone that seemed to hypnotize anyone who heard it. Cain thought to himself that this guy wasn't cut out to be a salon owner — he should have been a model or an actor instead. His charm was off the charts, and his aura was downright intense.

"Hmm~ Talk about charisma. That guy's practically oozing pheromones," Fifi chuckled, grinning from ear to ear, though her expression remained impassive.

"My name is Alexander Locke, but everyone here calls me Daddy."

"I . . . I see . . . ," Cain stammered, unsure of how to handle this kind of man. Eccentric and pushy types weren't exactly his forte.

"I've learned about you through your videos. But even before that, your hairstyling on BuzzVid caught my attention," Alexander said, his gaze never leaving Cain. "The moment I saw your work, I knew you were destined for greatness in the hairstyling industry!"

"Is that so?" Cain replied with disinterest.

"I hope you're here because you want to join the crew. Don't worry, I'm only interested in your skills, not your background, so I don't care if you want to keep your real identity hidden. Most of our stylists here have their own unique backgrounds."

Alexander continued, "No need to worry if you didn't come from a prestigious school. Here, it's all about skill and attitude. The pay's pretty generous too — $100 per customer, plus you keep the tips. And trust me, with our clientele, those tips can go as high as a thousand bucks if they're impressed. That's the kind of money that flows through Daddy Salon. On top of that, you'll get 24 days of paid leave, 24 days of sick leave, and a bonus in holiday, and 15th month pay. We take care of our own here."

Cain took a breath. He didn't know the wages in Salons so he didn't have a clue that it was so high even for a top salon. "Actually . . . I'm not interested in the pay. And being a hairstylist isn't what I want to do."

Alexander placed a hand over his chin, intrigued. "Oh?" His curiosity piqued. Not many said that they weren't interested in the money. Almost all grabbed the opportunity when he said the price of their service.

He then instructed his staff to leave the room. Once they were alone, Alexander probed, "So what's your real reason for coming here?"

Cain met Alexander's gaze with a serious expression. "I want to be an idol."

Alexander was momentarily taken aback before he burst into laughter. "Is that right? I think I see why you wanted to work here. It's true that we have celebrities and idols who frequent this place, but . . ." His smile faded, and his eyes turned sharp. "Don't think they'll accept you just because of your pretty face. You need to forge connections with them, and the best way to do that is by making them happy with your hairstyling skills. But even then, these people have pride and a lot of ego. They won't easily accept someone they see as potential competition."

Cain didn't flinch. He had already considered that. But this was the quickest path to becoming an idol. If he had to swallow his pride and cater to these celebrities and idols, then so be it.

Alexander stepped closer to Cain and extended his hand. "So, do we have a deal? I can draft the contract right now, and you can sign it. You can also start working today if you'd like."

Before taking his hand, Cain spoke up. "Before we go any further, I need to tell you something. I don't know how to cut hair. I only know how to style men's hair — not women's. So I won't be doing anything that involves women here."

Alexander paused for a moment, then smiled knowingly. He was getting more and more intrigued by C.C. "Fine by me. We're short-handed at the moment — a lot of our stylists were poached by rival salons, not to mention that our reputation is growing by the day. We need all the help we can get. If you don't have any more demands, should we seal the deal?"

Cain was baffled by how easily Alexander accepted his conditions. Even though Alexander mentioned they were short on staff, how could he be so nonchalant about him only wanting to style men's hair and nothing else?

"You . . . you're very lenient with your staff," Cain remarked, still trying to wrap his head around it.

Alexander beamed. "I respect all my staff here and treat them like my own children."

Cain fell silent, his eyes drifting to Fifi, who was still awestruck by Alexander. He couldn't help but wonder if this man was really what he seemed — a charismatic, easygoing leader — or if there was something more beneath the surface.

"Very well, then. I accept the job," Cain said, extending his hand to Alexander.

Alexander's smile widened as he grasped C.Cs hand in a firm shake. "Excellent. Let me show you around and introduce you to the team. You'll get started right away."

Cain nodded as they made their way around the salon. Eventually, Cain was handed over to Victor, a long-white haired, sharp-faced man with a scar on his brow and upper lip. His demeanor was silent and serious, exuding an air of quiet authority.

"Victor, take care of C.C. for me and let him get some experience. The sooner he gets used to the job, the better," Alexander said, tapping Victor on the shoulder before turning to leave.

"Daddy!"

Cain was startled when a stunning woman suddenly burst into the salon. She was thin, model-like, and undeniably beautiful, with black curls braided elegantly on her shoulder. Dressed in designer clothes and carrying an Hermes bag, she oozed luxury.

"I'm here to pick you up because you're not answering your phone. I thought you were going to take me shopping today?" she said, flipping her hair with a pout.

"Ah, Carmen . . . I'm sorry, I got so busy it slipped my mind," Alexander responded smoothly.

"My name's Mindy," she corrected, though her tone softened under Alexander's gaze.

With practiced ease, Alexander placed a hand over her shoulder, his voice dripping with charm. "That's what I called you. Shall we get going?"

Before leaving, Alexander paused and turned to the staff. "Be nice to C.C.," he said with a smile, then departed with the stunning woman clinging to his arm.