She didn’t, however, mean to hack off so much.
Isa lost time from the moment she realized her sink was full of hair to the moment she arrived at La Diosa Salon.
A hot blast of air and pandemonium smacked Isa in the face when she walked inside. The walls were mango orange with white Grecian molding and gold-leaf Roman-style mirrors. Over the sound of hair dryers and Thalia singing on the radio, four teenaged girls and their respective mothers screamed at each other.
Patty Covarubias jumped out from her place behind the fan clipped to her mini-TV and asked, “Isa Muñoz?”
“It’s Avellan,” Isa corrected.
“Oh my…what happened to your—STELLITA! JUANITO!” Her screech cut through the chaotic bustle and everyone turned to Isa standing there with hair clinging to her shoulders.
Stellita and Juanito rushed away from their clients. The rubber soles of their shoes screeched to a halt when they saw the damage.
“Code her. Get the cart,” Juanito ordered, and everyone exploded into action but Stellita.
Patty dove for the phone. “Susan, you have to get down here. It’s Isa.”
Isa began to shiver in spite of the thickly perfumed heat. When Stellita’s hand took hers in a sweaty grip, she felt herself walking to a chair in the far back of the salon while Juanito triaged with the other stylists.
“What happened to her?” one of the girls asked her mother fearfully.
“Don’t look, m’ija,” she warned, covering her daughter’s eyes with her beringed hand. “Don’t look.”
“Hey, Isa,” Stellita greeted shyly, trying not to stare at her head but failing. “What kind of scissors did you use?”
“I don’t know…regular ones.”
“How much hair loss has she experienced?” Juanito asked, parking a wheeled metal cart alongside Stellita.
“Excuse me,” a woman called out. “My daughter’s quinceñera court needs to be at the church in three hours.”
Isa avoided her reflection in the mirror, holding her forehead in one hand.
Not even five minutes later the door chime ding-donged and Susan’s panicked cries echoed off the walls, “Where is she?”
Taking control of the situation, Patty took her by the arm. “Susan, it’s going to be okay. You can talk to her before they put her in the sink.”
“Is it that bad? I need to see what she’s—”
Isa heard Susan’s heels clip against the linoleum floor. A gasp and her purse clunked to the ground.
“Sit down.” Patty urged Susan into the chair next to Isa. “Let me get you un cafecito, si?”
“Oh, my God,” Susan wailed. “What are we going to do? Can it be saved?”
“Everything will be just fine,” Patty emphasized with the sheen of suppressed panic glazing her eyes. “Just fine.”
“But her hair—It was…so beautiful.”
“I just wanted to trim my bangs and—” Isa tried to explain when Patty reached over and patted her hand. “There, there, m’ija. These things happen. My Stellita and Juanito were top in their classes. They’ll fix this.”
“Oh Isa! Why? Why did you do this?” Susan pleaded.
Patty leaned in close. “It was a man,” she stage-whispered into Susan’s ear and then lifted her eyebrows knowingly. “I can tell by her aura. Do you want me to get my Magic Eye camera?”
Susan whispered back and they nodded in secret understanding. Patty skipped away, no doubt off to her telephone in the back to call their other partner in crime, Josie. Isa slid farther down into the chair.
“You have to do something,” Susan begged Stellita, who took the shortest piece of hair and used it to test various lengths and angles. “Isa has a date tonight. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Stellita spun Isa around. “You didn’t say you had a date!”
“It’s not really a date—”
“She’s seeing Alex Lujon,” Susan added. Stellita swung her gaze so violently that her earrings tangled in her blond-and-black-striped hair.
“Alex Lujon?” she asked in disbelief.
Susan nodded gravely.
“Juanito!” Stellita screamed.
He clipped a complicated curl in place on the debutante-to-be’s head and hurried over in spite of her mother’s protests.
“We have a—I don’t think I can—”
“Calmate, Stellita,” Juanito soothed. Her breath was coming in gasps as he assessed the situation. “She needs color therapy and facial hair removal from the upper lip and both brows.”
He paused, shaking his salt-and-pepper head. “What time is your date, honey?”
“It’s not really a—” Isa shrank in the chair. “I don’t know. Six.”
“There’s no time for a facial,” he said, his eyes narrowing with intensity. He tapped his fingers along the thin line of hair that ran from the sides of his face, along the jaw and meeting at his chin. “Prep her with a mild scrub and then wax her before the shampoo.”
“Will that give us time for the swelling to go down?” Stellita panicked.
“We’ll have to take that chance.”
“Guys, I don’t think I can afford this,” Isa admitted.
“Take my card. I’ll pay whatever it costs,” Susan said, waving her Visa around.
“You can do this,” Juanito told Stellita.
No, Isa didn’t think she could.
All hopes riding on her training at Miss Elva’s School of Beauty, Stellita stood bravely in the face of the greatest challenge to ever walk through the pseudo-Grecian columns of La Diosa. With a quick prayer muttered to the Virgin on the card pinned next to her three-week-old license, she got to work.
Isa wasn’t sure how long she’d been under the drape. Stellita zipped off strips of hot wax from her brows and upper lip before shampooing and conditioning Isa into a drowsy state with the steady rhythm of her fingers and the warm pulse of water.
Susan selected a rich coffee color that they worked into her hair. Isa had to hold a cold compress to her lip and brows to accelerate the deswelling process.
When the color was rinsed off, they sat Isa back in the chair, turning her away from the mirror as Stellita snipped and razored away her hair. Susan held Isa’s hand through the procedure, comforting her that it would be over soon.
“How much longer?” Susan asked Stellita when the clock ticked four-thirty.
“Hold on Isa,” Stellita shouted over the droning hair dryer, having gained an almost grim confidence. “We’re almost there.”
“Can I look?” Isa asked when the dryer switched off.
Patty, Susan, and the quinceñera court nodded at Stellita to turn her around. But Juanito stepped in place, flipping some mechanism that sent the room flying until Isa lay flat on her back.
“Not yet, babe,” he said. “We still have more work to do.”
An intense light beamed into her eyes and Juanito peered through a magnifying glass that made it seem like this giant, all-seeing eye stared down at her.
“Because you have beautiful skin, we’re just using Zalia color blend in Romantic Nights to create a warm glow to your cheeks and forehead,” he said, holding out his hand as Stellita slapped a brush into it.
He dusted some on her face and then impatiently tapped Isa’s cheek with the brush. “Don’t squint or frown during the application.”
He used a palette of Peenk, Sangria, and Spice on her eyes, adding drama with a dusting of frosted Azucar in the inner corners of her eyes. He then outlined her eyes in Mexican Hot Cocoa matte shadow, frequently smudging it with a sponge applicator.
Bracing himself with a deep inhale, he loosened his shoulders. Stellita mopped his forehead with a cloth.
“We’re highlighting your eyes so we’re finishing the lips only with Amor lip gloss. But I’m throwing in a lipstick duet in Besame that you can mix to create darker or lighter shades during the day.”
With a final dusting of French Vanilla pressed powder and a quick application of brown mascara, Juanit
o removed the magnifying glass and switched off the lamp. Blobs of color shifted before Isa’s eyes and her stomach moaned for food.
But Juanito studied her as an artist his painting, angling his head from side to side and poking at her with Q-tips. Finally, he declared that she was done.
“Ease her up slowly,” Susan warned. “She’ll get a head rush.”
Patty urged someone to turn off the radio and the front doors were locked. The salon was silent as a candle-lit chapel when Isa was slowly raised up from the chair. The drape was snatched off her shoulders, sending hair whirling to the floor.
Her eyelashes felt like wings and her face didn’t feel heavy like she expected it to. Every eye in the salon was wide with astonishment and chests rose and fell with excitement upon seeing a miracle.
“Oh, Isa,” Susan whispered, breaking from Patty’s grip. Her eyes glistened with proud tears and she covered her mouth with her hands. “M’ija, you look like a princess.”
Isa didn’t want to turn around yet. How different would this new Isa be? She felt the same and she still had the same problems as the old Isa who had walked in the door.
“I’m going to turn around,” she told Susan.
Susan nodded and Isa cast her eyes to the floor as she turned. Her heart thumped steadily as she raised her eyes. The crowd erupted into cheers and Stellita collapsed against her mother and brother. Isa wasn’t quite sure what to say to the woman staring back at her in the mirror.
But then Joan appeared in the mirror behind Isa, her face as tender as a mother cooing to her baby.
“You see, darling,” she leaned in and whispered. “It’s not a new Isa. She’s the one that has been waiting inside you all along.”
10
Walking up to El Serape, Isa nearly fell flat on her face in her high-heeled boots.
“Well now, that’s not ladylike language,” exclaimed a nosey old woman when Isa cursed as she caught her balance.
Isa grinned with a ready-made apology on her lips but the viejita shook her pin-curled head as she walked away. She had another attack of doubt when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored columns flanking the entrance. Catching a bit of hair that snuck into her eyes, Isa ran through her drop-out plan one more time.
She felt so, so obvious with all this makeup and hair. Alex would think she did this for him and she was another soccer mom ready to fall at his feet.
The misty wind swirled around the palm trees and Isa wondered if this was a sign for her to turn and drive home.
Double checking that the satin black bow keeping her jacket tied together was still in place, she also wished she hadn’t worn this particular outfit, a jade and teal tweed suit jacket over low-rise jeans and a black lace bra. She must have become permanently unhinged to wear something like this. This was the closest she’d ever come to leaving the house without underwear.
Go in there, she told herself. And so she did.
“Hey,” Alex said after he did a double take when she stood by the front door, waiting to see if he’d recognize her. As he walked over, Isa swore her heart collapsed and bounced off her stomach. He looked so tasty with a black leather coat over a red button-down shirt and black jeans. His hair was still damp from his shower.
“How’s life with you?” she asked, smelling soap and clean man.
“I was wondering if that was you,” he said, making her squirm under his close scrutiny. “Is that really you?”
“Yes, and if one more person asks me if I cut my hair or why I’m wearing blue contacts I’ll—” She stopped herself. “Want to sit down?”
“I’m in no hurry.” He seemed so at ease with himself that she truly envied him. “So when did you do all of this?”
“Today. We better sit down befo—” Alex wouldn’t step back to let her pass.
“I like the hair.” His eyes lazily drifted down her face, her coat, and down to the tips of her boots. His eyes narrowed like he could see right through the trusty tweed. “And I already knew you didn’t wear blue contacts,” he said loud enough for only Isa to hear.
She swallowed and asked herself who the hell he thought he was, coming on to her now that she looked different.
“If you wouldn’t mind. I’d like to pay for tonight.”
“Why? Susan put you up to it?” She knew it was a bad idea to say it right after the last word spurted from her mouth.
Alex slowly blinked his eyes like he couldn’t believe what she’d said. “No.”
Sensing she’d stepped just a bit too far, Isa walked over to the hostess and meekly asked for a table. The girl’s eyes raked in every detail of Isa’s outfit, makeup and hair—the first time any woman gave her that kind of scrutiny. Isa had to admit it felt good when the hostesses seemed to deflate.
They walked in single file as Chubby Checker sang over the speakers, while the kitchen crew banged and flashed in the kitchen.
You know, whatever, Alex told himself. He wasn’t in the mood to do this, much less chase after Isa, begging for her to reveal what put her panties in a twist. She probably picked up a snotty attitude with this new look she had going. One thing he learned lately was that nice guys didn’t get laid, paid, or respect.
But still, this nice guy followed her across the room, catching other guys take second looks as she passed them by.
“Hey Ms. Avellan, I didn’t know you were here,” a waitress greeted her from behind a tower of milk shakes.
“Hey Sajil,” Isa said, a lot friendlier than she’d been with him. “Since when did you start working here?”
Sajil eyed him and then Isa, blushing when Alex caught her guessing they were on a date. “Just a couple of weeks.”
“How are your classes?” Isa asked.
“Fine. Look, Ms. Avellan, it really sucks about your husband on the radio,” Sajil said, taking another look at Alex. “A lot of us feel bad about that.”
For a moment he wondered what Isa’s husband had done on the radio. No, he really didn’t want to know.
“Thanks, honey.” Isa backed away from the girl. He saw Isa rapidly blinking her eyes and he sighed. With two sisters, plus living with June, he knew that tears were on the way. Had she forgotten to take her meds or something?
Alex nodded to the girl and when he turned to follow Isa and the hostess, they had vanished. Please God, he prayed. Don’t make this night last any longer than it had to.
Alex found Isa hunched in a booth, sneaking a balled napkin to the corner of each eye. Mr. Responsibility resurfaced with a vengeance, but Alex drop-kicked him back into the closet. He slid into his side of the booth, seething and waiting for Isa to break the silence.
When Alex ran out of 1950s memorabilia to look at, he gave in. “Hey, you think we should enter the Shake Your Booty Showdown?”
It crossed Isa’s mind to make a run for her car, pack up Andrew, and then move straight to Ohio. But she forced herself to look up from the menu she had been hiding behind. Alex grinned at her as if they weren’t on the worst date ever and now more than ever, she wanted to curl into a ball under the table.
“Shake Your Booty Showdown?” she asked, meeting him halfway.
“Says right here.” He slid a menu of repulsive neon-colored drinks and fried food to the center of the table and turned the dial until it landed on the contest rules.
She laughed in spite of herself.
“Hey, you picked this place,” he teased.
“It’s supposed to be a family restaurant.”
His eyes told her it was all right and Isa mushed her lips together, mustering what tiny bit of courage she had left and then blurted, “I know you think I’m a complete nut case but I’ve been having some issues at work and with Carlos so it…it all kind of piled up tonight and you were a convenient target.”
Alex blinked like she had just started speaking in tongues but Isa forged on. “And I was wrong to throw the whole thing with Susan back in your face.”
Say something, damn you!
“I’m s
orry,” she finished.
It was his turn to stare down at his menu as they both pretended they weren’t unbearably awkward. “I want you to know that I really regret what happened the other day,” he said.
“I know,” she sighed. “So should we consider this a ceasefire or an all-out peace treaty?”
Her toes curled—as much as they could—in her sharp-toed boots when the laugh lines in the corners of his eyes returned as he smiled.
“Peace treaty,” he offered, holding out his hand.
She took it and felt his heat shoot straight up her arm, stopping at the points of interest along the way.
“Now that you’re team mom, we need to figure out all this soccer stuff.”
The waitress appeared and took their orders. After she rushed away, Isa’s face soured. “Funny that happened after I left practice.”
“But Susan said—” He shook his head and then looked up at her with this funny grin. “Never mind. Let’s just admit we’ve been had. So what’s going on with this radio thing?”
“You really don’t know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked.”
She started with the Sex Savvy Senior Survey, which led to Rock Hard in the Morning.
Alex shook his head, rubbing his thumb over his chin. “I’ll have to see if my dad saved the Star News.”
She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Ha-ha.”
And when his mouth eased into a grin, she realized her fists weren’t curled into balls at her sides.
“Frankly I wouldn’t lump you in the fugly category.”
She eyed the onion rings the waitress brought sometime during her saga of woe. If she kept eating like this he would. “I busted one of the culprits for smoking in the girls’ room last year.”
“No one reads the Star News,” he dismissed and won another piece of her heart. “Everyone knows it’s bird-cage liner.” They both knew the Star News was read backwards, forwards, and upside down before it became bird-cage liner in this town. Hearing him say it made her realize that a good heart was inside his very tasty looking package.
The theme to “2001” suddenly cut off Etta James on the sound system. Alex and Isa locked gazes, each wondering what was going on. The lights dimmed as the drums bonged against the walls and a spotlight captured the DJ standing next to a girl in gold cowgirl boots, denim cut-offs, and a spangled bikini top.
In Between Men Page 6