Tangled #3

by Taylor Morris

  “We didn’t leave you.”

  “I know you didn’t, but for a while it felt like that. I just wanted to hang out with you again. I was being selfish,” I said. “I didn’t do it to be mean or hurt you. I definitely didn’t do it to almost break you two up.”

  She rested her head on her hand. “I was so upset yesterday when you made me think that Jonah had bailed on me. You knew he hadn’t, and you knew I thought he had. That’s so unbelievably not cool, Mickey.”

  “I know,” I said. I felt like I was drowning. I had no excuses. I had nothing left to say.

  “Look,” Eve said, sitting up straight and folding her hands in front of her. “I had a hard time leaving my friends in Ridgeley when we moved here. Especially my best friend, Marla. I feel like you and I became friends really fast. And that’s cool, don’t get me wrong,” she said, turning briefly to face me. “It’s just that a lot has happened since I moved here, stuff between us, and maybe we should kind of back off for a little while.”

  Tears began to well in my eyes as I heard the words. Back off? “What do you mean?” I asked, because it sounded a lot like breaking up with a friend.

  “It’s just,” she began, then looked at me with this sad smile. “I’m not saying I don’t want to be friends. But maybe we don’t have to do everything together. It took me and Marla like six months to become best friends. And I’m sure you and Jonah didn’t become best friends the day you met.”

  I wanted to tell her that we had, but I didn’t. I was too stunned to speak. My chin quivered.

  “All I’m saying is that I think we should take it easy for a little while. I still want to be friends, but maybe we don’t have to try so hard. And honestly, I do feel like you have to earn back my trust. Too much has happened. I know Jonah forgave you for this, but to me it’s a really big deal.”

  “It’s a big deal to him,” I said. “To me, too.”

  “I don’t want to fight. I just want you to know that . . . I need some time. Okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay.” I wiped my eyes on my napkin, feeling worse than I ever had. My big mouth had lost me a best friend.

  “So, can I still see the salon?” she asked. “I’m dying to know what changes were made.”

  “Of course you can come,” I said. “If you want to.”

  “Of course I do,” she said. “The salon is where it all started for me in Rockford.”

  We walked down the street to meet our friends, who were wolfing down the best ice cream in the Northeast. Today, though, even the smell of freshly baked waffle cones and the promise of finally tasting that new tiramisu flavor couldn’t cheer me up. When I thought of how the story of the salon might end, I felt like taking the first train out of town. Because the only thing that could make the day worse would be for Cecilia to hate the changes—and for my own mother to hate me for setting it up. No pressure there at all.

  CHAPTER 22

  My phone beeped, indicating a new text had come in. It was from my dad. I gasped.

  “It’s time!” I said.

  “Let’s go!” Kristen said.

  We scrambled across the road to Hello, Gorgeous! Inside, we spotted some changes right away. The spot where Karen’s manicure station had been was now a full makeup station, and I knew they’d put it there to use the natural light that shone through the front windows. Megan’s station had been expanded, too, and now had a new counter where we’d sell highend brushes and combs. It also gave more space for clients in the waiting area. Rowan’s former room was now a storage room and the break room was that and only that.

  “Megan!” I said. She stood at reception like she was standing at attention. “It looks great!”

  “Let’s hope Cecilia likes the rest of it,” Megan said.

  Looking out at the stylists, I saw that they were eager to hear the verdict, too. They’d closed the salon after Mom’s demo to finish the rest of the renovations. But some of our best clients had come back for this moment. Since just about everyone in town knew what was going on, they all wanted to hear what Cecilia von Tressell had to say.

  “Where’s Cecilia?” I asked Megan.

  “She’s down there now,” Megan said. “Should be back up soon.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” I said, my stomach churning.

  “It’s going to be great,” Lizbeth said, throwing her arm around my shoulders.

  “I hope so,” I said, leaning into her.

  “Will there be food?” Jonah asked.

  We all rolled our eyes and shook our heads at Jonah. Except Kyle, who punched him in the arm. “We just ate,” he said. “Twice.”

  “I was just asking,” Jonah replied.

  Mom walked up with Dad from her office. I could see the tiny worry lines between her brows.

  “She’s going to love it,” Dad said. “Just wait.”

  “Chloe.” We looked to see Violet standing in the back near the door to the basement. “They’re ready.”

  “Thank you, Violet,” Mom said. She took a deep breath.

  “You look great and the salon looks great,” Dad said. “We don’t need anyone’s approval.”

  “I’ll try not to worry about what she or anyone else thinks,” Mom said like a mantra, like if she said it enough times, it would be true.

  “That’s the way,” Dad replied encouragingly. I could tell, though, that Mom only sort of believed her words. She respected Cecilia, and I knew she wanted her approval as well, even if she couldn’t admit it.

  Cecilia appeared in the doorway leading to the break room and down into the basement. She and Mom started toward each other.

  “Hello, Cecilia,” Mom said, reaching out to shake her hand. “It was wonderful having you here this week.”

  “Thank you, Chloe,” she said, giving her a firm shake. “It was wonderful being here.”

  We all watched as they eyed each other, old-West style. Mom tried to look relaxed, but Cecilia’s face held a new level of steeliness that I couldn’t read.

  Cecilia turned to face the group as the cameras moved around to film all of our reactions. “First off,” she began, “I’d like to thank you for opening up your salon to us. I know it’s been quite disruptive, but I hope it’s worth it in the end.”

  “Thank you,” was all Mom managed to say.

  “I got to know you, your stylists, and even your daughter,” she continued. I blushed. “And I must say, I’ve never seen a team quite like this before.”

  My heart beat rapidly. I wondered if Mom would remember to breathe.

  “Would you care to show us the changes you’ve made, Chloe?” Cecilia asked.

  “Yes,” Mom said. “Of course.”

  Mom led Cecilia—and her cameras—around the salon and showed her all the first-level changes. But of course, the real change was downstairs.

  Mom, Cecilia, and the cameras went down. Dad and the salon staff followed. I wanted to be there for Mom and the salon, but it wasn’t my place to go. Then, Dad turned and motioned for me to follow. I lit up and started toward him immediately.

  “Your friends, too,” he said. “They helped with this.” I excitedly motioned for them to come with us.

  We tiptoed down as quietly as eight anxious people could. When we got a view of what had been done, we all stopped in stunned silence.

  The basement looked incredible, like the 2.0 version of the main floor of the salon. The creamy buttercolored walls we painted gave the room a warm feeling, and the entire back wall had a cream-andblack damask wallpaper that was utterly elegant. A silver-and-crystal chandelier hung from the center, pulling the whole look together, shining a soothing light through the basement.

  More than that, though, the basement now had everything it could possibly need to be run as a full-service salon. Two rooms had been built into the back corners—one for massages and the other for waxing. Karen’s manicure station had been moved down here and expanded, giving her (and her clients) more space. Now she wouldn’t be squeezed between Megan and
Devon. The display of nail polishes was even bigger than it had been before. There were two whole rows of the new summer colors, including one called Industrial Age that was gold with silver flecks—just like Kristen had wanted!

  We couldn’t help but gasp at what we saw.

  “You all were involved in what happened downstairs?” Cecilia asked, eyeing each of us. We all nodded in unison. Cameras steadied on Cecilia, Mom, me, and my friends. We waited to hear what she had to say.

  “Hello, Gorgeous! was a wonderful salon when I first arrived here a week ago,” Cecilia began. “But it was underused and wasn’t living up to its potential. So I asked Chloe here to do just that.” She turned to look at Mom. “I was fortunate enough to meet the wonderful staff of talented stylists and see how they all worked. And although I was mostly impressed,” she said, pausing to look at everyone, “I do believe that there can be some updated training. The techniques I saw here are not bad, but they could use some improving.”

  My stomach dropped, and I couldn’t believe this was happening. I looked to Mom, who had a pleasant expression plastered on her face—which was turning a slight shade of green.

  “I’m a firm believer,” Cecilia continued, “in ongoing training to stay on top of new techniques and to prevent laziness and bad habits. I’m recommending that Violet, as the salon manager, take courses and then teach them to the rest of the staff. I believe this should be mandatory for all stylists.

  “As for the changes in the salon itself, after the initial inspection, I asked Chloe to see where she could improve the space and make her salon even better than it was a week ago. Thankfully, those zombie rats I heard about turned out to be myth.”

  She looked at me and grinned. I couldn’t smile back because I kind of wanted to die.

  “Seeing this space down here, I have to say I’m impressed. However—can a spa be luxurious in a basement? This is something I gave a lot of thought to. After seeing this, I wondered still if it was highend enough. I had to question the quality of work that was done.”

  I held my breath. “I’m happy to say,” Cecilia continued, “that Chloe has done something extraordinary. She’s proven Hello, Gorgeous! to be . . . a Best Tressed Salon!”

  Cheers erupted throughout the salon. A huge grin spread across Mom’s face, the first true expression she’d worn all week. Everyone let loose and clapped and whooped wildly. It was a week’s worth of tension released at once. From the top of the stairs, Cecilia’s crew presented a cake, balloons, and sparkling cider for everyone to celebrate with.

  And then, my favorite part of the show after the reveal—awards. Cecilia handed them out to all the stylists for the work they’d done that week and what they excelled at.

  Cecilia presented Violet with the Cool Head award. “Because through all the chaos of a salon, Violet keeps her cool—and has a fabulous head of hair.” Violet graciously accepted her award, and yes, her golden hair looked perfectly trimmed.

  Devon received the Goddess of Retro Rock award. Giancarlo received the Most Original Style award—“For the ability to uniquely style hair and the clothes he himself wears,” Cecilia joked.

  Rowan got a Tiny Quarters award for working in such a small space for so long. “I didn’t mind it,” she said. “But I won’t miss it.” Finally, Karen got the All Shades of Awesome award for the beautiful hands she pampers every day.

  “Now, for a very special award,” Cecilia said. She turned her rhinestoned glasses on me. I about froze to the spot, a camera swooping in on my stunned expression. “Mickey, who we all know is Chloe’s daughter, was the one who texted her mom’s salon in to the show and got us here to Rockford. Mickey, I know you’ve worked here for your mom after school, sweeping the floors and being an overall help to the stylists. They’ve all told me how much they appreciate your help, and what an amazing young stylist you are in your own right. And so, we’d like to present you with the Future Superstylist award.”

  The whole salon started clapping, just for me. My friends patted me on the back, and Mom beamed from across the salon. I couldn’t believe it was all happening. Not only was Mom’s salon a success on the show, but Cecilia von Tressell herself recognized me as someone who could one day be like her.

  “Now, we don’t have a traditional plaque for you,” Cecilia said. “I hope instead you’ll accept this.” From a bag she pulled out a piece of clothing. “Your mom and I agreed that plastic is just not the right feel for a salon of this caliber. We hope you’ll like wearing this instead.”

  It was an adorable dark pink apron with ruffles around the edges and the Hello, Gorgeous! logo across the pocket.

  “Thank you!” I said, taking it and immediately tying it around my waist. “I love it!”

  “Now, for one last thing,” Cecilia said. “I’ve truly never done this before, but I’ve never been more impressed by a salon, or its owner. So I think it’s a great time to help shake up my show a little bit, and help you take Hello, Gorgeous! to the next level.”

  My mind raced at what else Cecilia could possibly do for us. It was starting to feel a little too good to be true.

  “First off, the Be Gorgeous demo is such a wonderful idea. We went crazy for it, and love the idea of bringing expert knowledge to the client. We thought of how we could make it better, and for the longest time we came up with nothing—it was simply perfect. But then we realized it did have a major flaw.” I held my breath. “The problem,” Cecilia said, “is that not enough people have access to it. So we thought—why not put it online? Create a new section of your website, record the demos each week, and you’ll have an entire archive of styling tips.”

  That was why Cecilia was a great businesswoman!

  Cecilia said she’d be providing Mom with a camera and video-editing software to get the team started.

  “Finally, I have one more surprise,” Cecilia said. She turned to Mom and said, “Chloe, you show such leadership here and take such good care with all your stylists. It’s clear you treat them like family. It’s also clear that you’re an incredible stylist, with so much knowledge to teach others. And so, if you’d agree, we’d love to have you as the lead Head Honcho on our next Cecilia’s Best Tressed show.”

  The salon let out another whoop of excitement, clapping and cheering for Mom. I hollered right along with them. This would mean even more good publicity for the salon! After a week of emotional ups and downs, Mom finally started to crack. She got the tiniest bit teary-eyed, and held back those tears as desperately as she could. When Dad stepped beside her and hugged her shoulders, she rested her face in his chest for a moment before coming up for air.

  “I’d absolutely love to,” she finally said.

  We all started cheering again. We’d done it. All of us, together.

  Finally it was time to cut the cake, uncork the apple cider, and really celebrate the week we’d had. Everyone dug into cake (post ice cream!) and had a cup of cider.

  Just as the celebration got started, Eve said to Jonah, “I better get going.”

  “You’re leaving?” I asked, my heart sinking. I wanted her to celebrate with us. “You have to have some cake.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I should really get home.”

  I knew that if I hadn’t lied to her Friday night then she would have been here the whole time, through it all.

  “Everything looks great, though, Mickey,” she said. “I’ll have to beg my mom for a spa appointment.”

  “I’ll get one for you!” I said. Even I could hear the desperation in my voice. Like I could buy back her friendship? I guess I still had a lot to learn.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Jonah said to her. “Here.” He shoved his plate of cake into my hands. “Save this for me.”

  My and Eve’s friendship may have changed, but my friendship with Jonah was back on track. I was happy for that, at least.

  He walked Eve out, leaving me alone with Kyle. Next to us, Kristen attempted to feed Tobias cake and Lizbeth and Matthew argued over what was b
etter—tennis or golf.

  “So, can I ask,” Kyle said. “How’d it go with Eve at the diner?”

  I shrugged. “Not so great. She’s still talking to me, but barely. She said I have to earn back her trust. What about you and Jonah?”

  “Pretty upset, but he said if I played it cool he could forgive me.” He cut into his cake with a plastic fork but didn’t take a bite. “You know, he’s the reason Eve showed up at the diner. Jonah called her while you were upstairs.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. She didn’t want to come but he convinced her to talk to you.” He poked at his sugary slice of cake. “He’s a really good friend. To both of us.”

  I stared down at Jonah’s cake in my hands, realizing just how true it was. “I know. The best.”

  Before I knew what was happening, I was accosted on either side by Mom and Dad, hugging me so tight I smashed some of Jonah’s cake on my shirt.

  “I can’t breathe!” I called. I knew Kyle—and the cameras—were watching, but I didn’t care. I was happy with the way things were turning out, even if they weren’t perfect.

  “Well,” Mom began, letting me loose. “I have to say that up until a half hour ago, I had no idea how this whole thing would go. And, Mickey, I just want you to know that I’m more proud of you today than I ever have been. You never doubted the salon or me for a second, and that helped keep me sane this whole week.”

  I almost told her that I’d been a wreck all week and if I had fooled her into thinking I was calm it was because she’d fooled me into thinking she had it all under control. But I didn’t. Instead, I told her I loved her and gave her another big hug.

  Cecilia and her cameras did final interviews with the staff. I even saw her talking with Kristen to get a client’s perspective. Across the room, as my friends ate cake and the stylists sipped cider and congratulated one another on their awards, my eye caught Kyle’s. For a moment, I was sure he’d been staring at me. We’d had awkward moments and easy moments. How come sometimes I could hang with him as easily as I could with Jonah, but other times—like now—he made me so nervous that I almost (almost) couldn’t eat my cake?