Tangled #3

by Taylor Morris

  Mom turned to Cecilia, her fake smile stretching even wider. “Absolutely,” she said. “At Hello, Gorgeous!, we settle for nothing less than the best.”

  The stylists burst into applause again.

  “Great!” Cecilia called out over the cheers.

  Cecilia gave Mom and her staff a quick rundown: For the next three days, she would personally inspect the salon to get an idea of how the place worked and what services Mom offered. On Friday, the stylists would be observed by Cecilia’s expert team, the Head Honchos, to get a deeper understanding of how the stylists worked their craft. At the end of the day, Cecilia would make her recommendations on how to make the salon even better. Mom would have until Saturday evening to make the changes. Then Cecilia would review the work on Saturday night and decide if Hello, Gorgeous! could join the ranks of the Best Tressed.

  “Now, Miss Mickey,” Cecilia said to me. “Since this was your idea, I’d love to have you here each day, showing me the ropes and such. If the boss agrees, that is.” She peered over her glasses at Mom.

  “We’ll see if it fits in with her schoolwork,” Mom said. “We’ll see.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Cecilia said with a wide smile.

  Everyone buzzed with excitement as Cecilia told Mom that work would begin first thing the next morning. Then the cameras shut off. Mom and Cecilia went back to Mom’s office to talk more business.

  “Mickey, I can’t believe it!” Lizbeth said, rushing up to me. “Your mom must be blown away!”

  “I’m shaking,” I said. I still couldn’t believe this was happening. “I can’t believe she’s here. And we’re going to be on her show!”

  “We are!” Kristen exclaimed. “Do you think she liked my idea of pairing a nail polish with a hairstyle? I made it up on the fly when I saw her, but it might be something really cool. Don’t you think?”

  “I guess,” I said. I was still trying to process everything that was happening. Hello, Gorgeous! was going to be famous. Mom may have been nervous walking into this (see: Mom and surprises), but I knew she would soon realize how great this was going to be.

  CHAPTER 5

  The front door slamming. That’s how Dad and I knew Mom was home. It’s also how I knew things were not going to go well.

  We heard Mom drop her bag on the living room floor with a slap and kick off her heels with a crumple.

  “Mickey!”

  I looked at Dad.

  “Don’t worry,” he said as he patted my shoulder. “She’s in here,” he called out.

  When I got home from the salon, I’d told Dad everything. The texting, the camera, the fake smile. He seemed to agree that Mom was in a momentary panic but would come around to see how great this could be for her and the salon. “But just in case,” he’d said, “we better have a great dinner waiting for her.” We’d gone to Antonio’s, a fancy Italian place she loved, and brought home the works.

  Mom padded into the kitchen in bare feet, her tailored pants dragging on the floor now that her threeinch heels were off. Her hair had some flyaways and her blouse was slightly untucked. She rarely looked disheveled, even at home. The woman didn’t even own a pair of sweatpants. This was bad.

  She pursed her lips and stared me down. “Mikaela,” she began. “Honestly.”

  “Now, Chloe, hang on a second,” Dad said. “Before you get upset, let’s talk about this.”

  She looked at him with way too much confidence. It was a little freaky. “Upset? Who said I’m upset? I think it’s just great that my thirteen-year-old daughter is making monumental business decisions for me. Who wouldn’t want—”

  “Chloe,” Dad said. “Settle down. Please.”

  Mom narrowed her eyes at Dad. Then she looked at me, crossed her arms, and said, “Explain.”

  I gulped.

  “Mickey told me about the show when she got home, and it sounds like it’ll be great for your business,” Dad said, stepping in. “She said it’s the highest-rated show on the Perspective Network.”

  “It’s still a reality show,” Mom said. “The whole point is to embarrass the people silly enough to agree to go on!”

  “Mom,” I said, “this is, like, the most respected show on TV about the salon industry. Have you ever seen a single episode?”

  “I know of Cecilia von Tressell. But, no, I’ve never seen her show.”

  “Well, come on. I’ll show you an episode. We can eat while we watch. Dad got Antonio’s.”

  “Antonio’s, huh?” She looked at Dad. “Sounds like you two are really trying to work me over.”

  “Come on,” I said, pulling her by the wrist into the living room. “You’ll see!”

  We set up a fancy Italian picnic on the living room floor and watched one of my favorite episodes. It was set in Chicago at a salon attached to a swanky hotel. When the cameras showed the salon at the beginning of the episode, you couldn’t imagine how it could get any better. But with Cecilia’s keen eye to the fabulous, by the end of the episode it looked like the kind of salon that even the biggest-haired pop star might be intimidated to go into (but still would, of course).

  “See?” I said once the show had ended and we’d gobbled up all the eggplant lasagna and garlic bread. “It’s a great show! She doesn’t make you look bad. She makes you look even more incredible.”

  “I have to say, Chloe,” Dad said, “I think Mickey’s right. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  “You don’t?” Mom asked, still wary.

  “Not at all,” I said. “It’s not like Cecilia’s out to get you. She’s one of the best stylists in the world. I heard she did Princess Catherine’s hair for her wedding.” I wasn’t exactly sure about that, but I’m sure Cecilia could do an amazing princess look without it being too princessy.

  “See?” Dad said to Mom. “If the Princess of England trusts her, then you’ve got nothing to worry about!”

  Mom leaned against Dad. “I don’t like the idea of being scrutinized, especially not on TV. But maybe . . . maybe it’ll be good exposure?”

  “Yes!” I said. “I knew you’d get excited about it!”

  Mom eyed me. “Do I look excited?”

  I didn’t respond—but no, in case you’re wondering, she did not look excited.

  “Look,” she said. “I appreciate what you were trying to do, and I understand that you probably didn’t really think we’d be picked. But we were and I don’t like being surprised like this. However, I do agree that it could be good for business. As for what Cecilia said about you being there every day . . .”

  “Yes?” I asked, hopefully. All I really wanted out of life was to be at the salon every second of every day.

  “If you can get all your schoolwork done well and on time, then I think it’d be fine for you to come in each day this week. You could help me from making a fool out of myself.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I was going to be on TV with Cecilia von Tressell. I was going to get to know her! Work with her! Learn from her!

  “I will totally be there every second of every day that you let me,” I said.

  “Good,” Mom said with a smile. “Now let’s clear out these dishes and start up another Best Tressed.”

  This was amazing. I had to call Eve and tell her everything, especially since she was the only one who didn’t know yet.

  After clearing the dishes, Mom and Dad settled in for another episode. I grabbed my phone and ran back to my room.

  When I opened my phone to call Eve, I realized I had five texts from Kristen.

  Do you think I’ll need to sign a waiver for being on camera today? Because I totally will.

  Should I make an appt for Sat? That’s when the final reveal is, right?

  If I make an appt do u think I’ll 4sure be on camera, or maybe?

  Should I call Eve’s agent, Bunny, and tell her that I’ve already been on camera? Or does that hurt my chances?

  Wait, do you think my scenes today will end up being cut?

&nb
sp; Sheesh. I guess Kristen had found her way to be famous. I sent her a quick text back:

  No idea about most of your questions but make an appt, anyway. It’s going to be fab! TTYT.

  Then I called Eve. When she answered, I heard explosions, laughter, and yelling before finally, “Hello!”

  “Eve?”

  “Hello?”

  “Eve, it’s Mickey,” I said. “Can you hear me?”

  “Mickey? Speak up, I can’t hear you!”

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “Warpath Live Action,” she said. Then she said something I couldn’t understand because of all the noise.

  “You’re at Warpath?” I asked. “What are you doing there?” Her voice kept cutting in and out thanks to bad reception. But I did hear the name Jonah. “Eve, listen, I have exciting news. You won’t believe what happened. Hello?”

  “. . . can barely hear you.”

  “I have really big news!” I practically shouted into the phone. “You won’t believe it!”

  “Mickey?” she said as another round of explosions blasted in the background. “I can’t hear you. I’ll call you back, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said. “Call me back!”

  We hung up, and I sat back on my bed holding my phone. I’d completely forgotten about hanging out with her and Jonah at the Waffle Cone today. I hoped she wasn’t mad that I never showed.

  I wondered what she was doing at Warpath. She was supposed to be at dinner with her mom and grandmother. But it was dinnertime now and Warpath was at the other end of Camden Way, and it sounded like Jonah was with her now.

  “Mickey,” Dad said, poking his head in my room. “Come on down. We’re going out for dessert.”

  I looked at my phone and realized I’d been sitting there for an hour waiting for Eve to call me back. But I guess she forgot.

  CHAPTER 6

  “You know what it is?” Mom said the next morning at breakfast. “After watching a couple of episodes of Best Tressed last night, I realized that it’s not only good for business, it might even be fun.”

  “That’s the right attitude,” Dad said. “You’ll have the kind of exposure that never would have been possible.”

  Mom sat at the table in her long silk robe and gently blew on her tea. “I just have to remember that Cecilia is making a television show, and I am receiving invaluable business advice. I have to make sure I keep all the drama out. It’ll be Cecilia’s most boring show yet.”

  “Mom, how can you say that?” I said, setting down the bacon, egg, and cheese on an English muffin Dad had made. “You’ve never wanted to do anything poorly.”

  “My goal isn’t to do a poor job. But some of those owners and staff get very dramatic, fighting over what changes are going to be made or doing a tacky job of renovating,” she said. “I won’t have any of that. Everyone will be as professional as they are every day, and whatever renovations or changes Cecilia suggests we make are going to be perfect.”

  I picked a piece of bacon out of the sandwich. “It’s going to be amazing no matter what. Didn’t you see how glamorous Cecilia made all those salons? When she’s done with you,” I said, popping the bacon in my mouth, “you’ll be fit for Newbury Street.” That was like the Rodeo Drive of Boston.

  “Mickey, if I want to be fit for Boston, I can do it on my own,” she said. And it was just like Mom to say that. She didn’t want anyone else’s help because she didn’t need anyone else’s help. Or so she thought most of the time.

  “Shouldn’t you be heading out to school?” Dad asked me as he finished the last of his breakfast sandwich.

  “Where’s Jonah?” Mom asked. She looked out our back doors toward his house, which was directly behind ours. “He never misses breakfast.”

  It’s true. He came over most mornings to scarf down our food like we were the local diner and he had an open tab.

  “Not sure,” I said, gulping down the last of my orange juice. “I’ll see you at the salon this afternoon.”

  Knowing I’d be on camera today—and every day this week—I’d dressed carefully this morning. Not too flashy, but professional and stylish in a white dress with thick green, yellow, and red diagonal stripes.

  I was walking to school alone wondering why Jonah hadn’t come over, when guess who I spotted walking up the front steps to school? Eve and Jonah. I hurried to catch up with them, and that’s when I noticed that Eve was wearing Jonah’s Red Sox hat. His favorite Red Sox hat. She looked really cute in it, her white-blond hair swept into a low side ponytail. They walked inside together, and I followed slowly. Something about the hat and the walking together made me not want to barge in on them. I stopped in the hall to untie and retie my shoe. I dug around in my backpack, looked through my phone, and straightened my dress. Then I went to try to catch Jonah at his locker.

  When I got there, Jonah was alone, digging through the mess of books and folders. I nudged him in the shoulder. “Hey.”

  “What’s up, Mickey?” he said, glancing over at me.

  “You on a diet or something?”

  He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

  “You hardly ever miss breakfast at our house. Or our walk to school.”

  He shut his locker and we started down the hall to mine. “Sorry. I came in early.”

  “How come?”

  “Just wanted to get some extra studying in.”

  That made sense, I guess. I thought of the chapters I’d tried to read last night for English. Maybe I should come in early and study, too. “Well,” I said, “you’re missing all the action. You won’t believe what’s happening at the salon.”

  “Uh-oh,” Jonah said, looking at me with a slight smile. “What now?”

  “It’s nothing bad!” I said. “It’s amazing. You know that show I always watch called Cecilia’s Best Tressed?”

  “The one I always run away from when it comes on your TV?”

  “The one you secretly like,” I teased him. “Yes. They’re here in town to do a show on Mom’s salon!”

  “Whoa,” he said. “Seriously? That’s amazing.”

  “I know, right? And it’s all because of me. I texted in to enter Hello, Gorgeous! I never thought they’d actually show up. Or at least, I thought they’d give us some warning.”

  “Nice job, Mickey,” he said. We were at my locker, and I did a quick change of books and folders. “How’s your mom holding up?” He knew exactly how intense she could be.

  “Pretty well.” I decided to keep my copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, just in case I found some extra time to read before class. “Just utterly determined for everything to go perfectly.”

  Jonah smiled. “Of course she is. I bet it’s going to be great, though.”

  “I think so, too.”

  As we parted ways to go to our classes, he said, “Just let me know if you want me to come in and make a scene.”

  “Don’t you even.”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot,” he smiled. “That’s your department.”

  “That is so not funny,” I called after him.

  After multiple boring classes, Eve caught up with me on my way to lunch.

  “Hey, Micks,” she said, practically skipping up beside me. “Want to go to my locker with me real fast, get my lunch?”

  “Sure. Hey, sorry I didn’t show up at the Waffle Cone yesterday. I guess you survived without me.” She smiled. I looked at her hat and said, “Or maybe barely. What’s with the hat?”

  Eve tugged on her side ponytail and said, “I was just having a bad hair day.”

  “I think your hair would look adorable if you took off the hat. Is that Jonah’s?”

  “Actually,” she said as we got to her locker and she spun the combo, “I have to wear it because of a bet I lost.” She dumped her books, grabbed her lunch, and we headed toward the cafeteria.

  “What bet?” I asked.

  A big, silly grin spread across her face. “Okay. So. Last night we were having ice cream right after school, ri
ght? And Jonah dared me to take this big bite of my ice cream. Like a huge chunk, teeth and all.” I cringed thinking about freezing ice cream on my teeth. “If I did it, he said, then he had to buy me a game at Warpath. If I didn’t then I’d buy him a game. I have really sensitive teeth but I had to take the bet. Couldn’t do it, though.” She laughed. “It was so cold on my teeth and I opened my mouth and, like, ice cream oozed out onto the table. Very graceful.”

  “Classic,” I muttered.

  “So then—okay, wait,” she said, trying to remember the events. “First, we met my mom and grandmother and they invited him to dinner, so he came along. Then I asked Mom if we could go to Warpath after dinner and she said fine. We were only there for an hour, though.”

  “How’d you get,” I said, pointing to my head, “the hat? Again, I mean.”

  “Oh!” she said. “It was another bet. I really thought I could beat him at the game but he slammed me. Twice. So I have to wear his hat all day today, except in classes, of course.”

  We were almost to the cafeteria and I didn’t want to be all moody during lunch, so I asked, “So that’s why you didn’t call me back last night?”

  “Oh my gosh,” Eve said, putting her hand to the bill of the hat. We sat at our table, where Kristen and Lizbeth already were. “That’s right—you said you had news. I’m so sorry, Mickey! What is it?”

  Kristen looked up from her turkey-and-avocado sandwich and said, “You haven’t told her yet?”

  “I haven’t had a chance,” I said, getting all excited again.

  “Tell me! Tell me!” Eve said.

  “Have you ever seen that show Cecilia’s Best Tressed?” I asked.