“Yep, I’ve already done a few shows on Netflix with this look, but none of them with as big of an audience as this one. The part they have open is for a platinum blonde twenty-something woman. Her character is… it’s exactly the type of character I love to play. Strong, capable, and doesn’t take crap from anyone.”
“Sounds like it would be a fun role! What else have you acted in, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Oh, nothing big. But if I get this part, I’ll get to costar with Leo Knight!” she gushed.
I wondered if that was a name I was supposed to recognize, because Scott stopped combing out his client’s hair, stood up straight and put his hand to his heart.
“Well, that sounds amazing! I really hope you get it!” I said with a smile. And because I was so happy from my call with Hazel earlier, I put my hand on the client’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
She beamed. “Thanks! I hope I get it too. And if you get all this—” she gathered up her brunette locks and let it fall like a thick silk “—into an icy blonde, I’m taking you on the set with me to keep it that way.”
Chapter Three
Over the next two weeks, I saw the client who wanted to go platinum four more times.
“You’ve got a lot of hair,” I explained to her on her third session.
Normally clients that weren’t used to the platinum lifestyle got a little irritated when they had to keep coming in to get their hair into a pure white color. But not Alina.
“I’ll pay whatever you want — you’ve already done a phenomenal job,” she said, fixing me with a bright smile.
Again, Scott rolled his eyes next to me.
I ignored him and continued working on her hair, making sure to treat her with kindness in every touch.
Making conversation with her, I asked, “So do you have anyone special in your life?”
Clients always loved it when I asked that one. Even if someone was single, they always had at least one person they were thinking about regularly.
“Oh, not really,” she said, examining her manicure. “I’ve been working a lot, getting really into this whole acting thing, I don’t have time to dedicate to a relationship.”
“But, you seem to like this guy Leo Knight,” I said, thinking of the way she gushed when she mentioned the possibility of costarring with him.
“Oh, everyone likes Leo,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If I costar with him, I’m excited about what it’ll do for my career, not the possibility of a romance with him.”
Her voice had taken on this note of disappointment that picked at the corners of our conversation.
“Have you ever met him?” I asked curiously. I wondered what it would be like to get to be around celebrities all day.
“Once, but it was at some event he had to show up to and sign things for. He was… hard to read,” she said vaguely.
I pictured the man I’d seen on the ad on my Netflix. A few days had passed since The Black Castle had launched, but I couldn’t bring myself to watch it. Every episode was an hour long, and I was still finishing up another series. Still, the man’s golden face came up on my feed every single day as Netflix desperately recommended the show to me.
He was handsome, sure, but he didn’t look overwhelming. All I could think of every time I saw him was how I could improve his haircut.
But then again, that’s what I thought about most people.
“Hard to read how?” I asked, probing for more information. There had to be something I was missing about this guy.
“As in… he doesn’t talk all that much, is all I’m saying,” she said, pursing her lips and straightening up.
“So he’s full of himself,” I concluded. It only made sense. If I was a movie star with people constantly telling me how pretty I was, I’d get a big head too.
She nodded, her yellowish-blonde hair shifting as she did.
“You want me to do your eyebrows too, honey?” I asked, eyeing her black, perfectly-shaped eyebrows arcing over her green eyes.
“No, leave them black. I want to hit them in the face with this look,” she said with a smile.
I privately thought black eyebrows and platinum hair looked trashy, but on Alina, it seemed to work.
By the end of our next session a few days later, I took off Alina’s foils and blow-dried her hair. It was angelically fanning in the artificial breeze, white wisps that reminded me of Hazel’s hair when she first came in.
It made me wonder how she was doing and how her date went — it had been about a week and a half since our phone conversation. Part of me wanted to call her and check in, but my shyness urged me to leave her alone.
If she was anything like the way she was when she met me, other people were probably calling her for life advice all the time. I didn’t want to be like them; I didn’t want her to think of me as some kind of freeloader in need of guidance.
As I finished blow-drying Alina’s hair, I pictured Hazel riding in the passenger seat of some young movie star’s luxury convertible, happy as a clam.
Scott yanked me out of my thoughts for a moment when he caught a glimpse of Alina’s hair.
“That… looks incredible,” he said, putting his hand to his heart again. Then he looked into my eyes and said, “You’re a magician, you know that?”
I blushed as I finished off drying the last layer.
“I want to see!” Alina cried.
I had her chair pointing away from the mirror so that the final product would be a surprise.
“Not yet, honey, I’m almost done styling this… but I think you’re going to be pretty happy.”
A few minutes later, I was certain that Scott was right. I was a magician with hair.
I swiveled Alina around so she could see her reflection in the mirror and her mouth popped open.
She stood up and leaned in, running her fingers through her angelic white locks.
“You— oh my God, you’re magic!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down.
“It’s perfect,” Scott gasped, joining her at her side, parting it and checking the roots. “How did you do this, Charlie?”
I shrugged modestly as I blushed and said, “Practice?”
“The roots are white, too!” Alina said, leaning forward to examine her part. “This is the most incredible hair work I’ve ever seen!”
She twirled around to face me, fixing me with her bright green eyes. “If I get this part, mark my words. You’re coming onto the set with me. I want you and only you to be my stylist.”
I wanted to deny her, to say that she didn’t owe me anything. I wanted to tell her that even though I was amazing at hair, my skill with makeup was okay at best. And for accessories and clothing? I barely had the confidence to be sure of what I was wearing every day, let alone having the responsibility to dress a star.
But I pushed all those thoughts out of my mind just as I’d pushed all those Grindr guys out. And I looked her in the eye, smiled, and said, “Okay. If you get the part, I’ll come on the set with you and be your stylist.”
Never in my wildest dreams did I think Alina would actually get it.
A week later, she called me in the evening.
It was another soft evening in L.A., just after the heat broke and gave way to the chilliness of the desert night. My window was open and my white curtains were swaying gently in the breeze.
I’d deleted Grindr off my phone entirely and was sitting down on my cozy couch, having just finished dinner. Since I’d just finished the last of my other shows, I finally decided to start watching The Black Castle.
Five minutes in, my phone rang.
“I got the part,” Alina said breathlessly.
“Alin—”
“I GOT THE PART!” She screamed. I could hear some other screams in the background too; it sounded like she was with a bunch of friends.
“Alina that’s amazing! Congratulations!” I said, sitting up straight.
“It’s because of the hair!” She gasped, �
�Your hair!”
“Honey, it’s not my hair,” I said, the smile reaching my eyes so fiercely I thought my face would crack. “It’s your hair, and it’s your acting that did it!”
“No, they told me I was a good actress and all, and they had me up for consideration against a few others,” she said breathlessly. “And they told me that ultimately, they chose me because I had ‘the hair color that matches the character in the book!’”
My mouth dropped open. I’d done it; I’d changed someone’s life with my work.
Feelings of deep fulfillment purred throughout my body and tears beaded in my eyes.
“I’m so happy to hear that Alina, I can’t wait to see what you do on The Black Castle!” I said, blinking a few times. The tears were rolling down my face, following the contours of my cheekbones.
“You’re coming with me, Charlie,” she said, her voice shifting to a serious tone. “I need you on the set with me to keep my hair this way.”
I froze. I didn’t actually think that she would fulfill her promise. I thought she would use my services, get what she wanted, and then disappear into the ether just like any other client.
But here she was proving me wrong. And the fact that she wanted me, that she was offering me a leg up into the world of stardom was downright terrifying.
“I’m sure they have a stylist on set that will keep your hair that color and do your makeup,” I said, feeling the fear flow through me.
“No, I want you,” she said, her voice losing its innocent timbre.
“I don’t have that much experience with styling, with women’s clothes. With makeup, I’m just okay.”
“I’ve seen your makeup, you do a fine job,” she said simply, batting my fears away.
I clung to them even tighter. “But I’m a nobody at some random salon in east L.A., and I don’t know how to style.”
“I don’t care about all of that Charlie,” she said, exasperated. “You did this to my hair, you can do it again. I’ll get you help from other stylists if you want it — we have the budget for that. But I know for sure no one else can do to my hair what you did.”
My midwest modesty pawed at my insides, longing to downplay her compliments. I wanted to say the truth — that it was how her hair naturally took to the bleach. It was her own stunning beauty that won her the part, her own decision to keep her striking black eyebrows.
But now wasn’t the place for modesty. Now was the time to own up to what I’d really done, which was give her the confidence she needed to get that role.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I said with a lurch of fear in my gut. “Where do I meet you?”
A few weeks later, I was somehow stepping through the doors of LAX into what felt like a dream.
For the past few weeks, I’d been emailing the producers back and forth in a thread with Alina. She demanded to have me on set with her, and they surprisingly agreed to whatever she said. My eyes felt like they bugged out of my head when I saw the amount of money they were offering me to stay on for a season.
I’d never had that much money in my life.
It still hadn’t sunken in, and I was expecting to wake up at any moment.
When I read the contract, I felt anxiety swirl in my gut as I read about the expectations. I was going to be traveling to foreign cities around the world, working twelve-hour-days. It became clear that I’d have to leave everything — my job, my apartment, all the social connections I’d made in L.A. behind as I embarked on this new journey in my life.
But other than all of that, the only thing I knew I’d truly miss would be Hazel. I longed to call her on the phone for days and tell her the news. Maybe it was to tell her that she was right — that my life was starting to change. Maybe it was to fish for more reassurance in this time of uncertainty.
Regardless, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to be a burden to her.
After I signed the contract, everything started to become real. I broke out of my lease, put my things in storage, told the salon that I’d be leaving, and had a goodbye party with my acquaintances.
And here I was, at the end of one phase of my life and starting another chapter.
A far more fabulous chapter.
I’d been talking to Alina on the phone every day, slowly teasing out more and more details about the role as she learned them herself. She’d be a lady in waiting from another kingdom, a rival to the current female lead in the play. Her job was going to be to steal the interest of Leo Knight’s character — the man with the kingly looks on the advertisement I’d seen floating around on my Netflix homepage.
“So your job is to be the other woman. Shouldn’t be too hard for you,” I joked.
“Oh, shut your mouth,” she said with a smile in her voice.
Me and Alina’s relationship had grown past that of client and hairdresser in the past few weeks. We’d become actual friends.
One night, we were splitting a bottle of wine at my place to celebrate her getting the part. Her eyes shimmered with the effects of the wine and she laughed, telling me about how her past three boyfriends had actually been married.
“They didn’t think I’d find out!” she laughed with mirth as she took a sip, her platinum hair shimmering in the dim light above my kitchen table.
I watched her carefully, not sure if she was truly over it.
“The men are so dumb… they don’t think that women talk to each other!” she said, brimming with pride. “I swear, the women and the gays are the future of this world.”
“Cheers to that,” I said, clinking my glass to hers and taking a greedy gulp.
The wine was creating that familiar warmness in my body, spreading out through all of my limbs.
“What about you?” she asked, setting her delicate glass down on the table next to her and fixing me with her green stare. “What about the guys you’ve dated?”
Not even the wine could dull the feeling of shame I felt thinking about my exes.
“Or, what’s your type of guy?” she asked, noticing my discomfort.
I was grateful that she got away from the subject of my exes. I didn’t want to have to talk about Boring Guy, or Narcissist Guy, or any numbers of the random flings I’ve had throughout the past fifteen years.
“My type…” I said, bringing my finger to my mouth in thought. My eyes traveled from her face over to the bookshelf to my left. They fell on the spine of that notebook I’d written all the qualities I was looking for in my perfect man.
“I don’t have a type,” I said evasively.
She looked at me slyly. “Okay, we’ll save this conversation for another time, then. Everyone has a type.”
And that’s the conversation she chose to return to as I stood in line for security at the airport.
“You like Italian guys, right?” she teased back. “I’m sure you can get yourself a nice cannoli over here…”
“Ugh, you’re disgusting, get your mind out of the gutter,” I snapped, a smile prickling at the corners of my mouth.
Alina was already in Italy preparing for the shoot that began the next day. She’d been tantalizing me with beautiful pictures of an ancient city next to a cliff, and in the free time before the shoot, she’d explore the town nearby. It was a game between us at this point that she’d take photos of hot, unsuspecting Italian guys and send them to me along with the eggplant emoji.
I acted like I was offended, but we both knew I was just pretending.
Secretly, I couldn’t wait to be in Italy — around a whole new batch of guys that would hopefully start a conversation with something other than “Hey.”
…and hopefully, I’d find this heartmate that Hazel told me about.
My notebook with my wishlist was tucked into my suitcase, safely hidden between some shirts.
Before I boarded the plane, I had one final urge to give Hazel a call and tell her how my life was changing. Because I was brimming with happiness and confidence and the excitement of a new adventure, I finally w
orked up the guts to do it.
“Hello?” She answered.
“Hey, Hazel! Charlie here, your hairdresser from a few weeks ago.” God, I sounded like a complete creeper idiot. Regardless, I pressed on. “I… I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to be in Italy. I was drafted to work on a Netflix series — The Black Castle.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, a smile in her voice as if she’d known this all along.
A silence hung on the line, and my words came tumbling out of me to fill it. “I just wanted to say thank you for being my client, and telling me not to settle.”
The words sounded so stupid as they tumbled out of my mouth.
After a pause, Hazel said, “Charlie, this is just the beginning. You’re opening up — I can feel it from here. The more you open your heart to love, the more of it flows into your life.”
That made me think of her promise that I’d find my heartmate. It was inevitable, she said. That word bounced around in my brain a few times like an echo: Inevitable, inevitable, inevitable…
“You’ll find him soon,” she encouraged. “But there’s still something that’s blocking you. Did you figure out who you need to forgive?”
My face fell. I’d forgotten all about that part.
“N-no,” I said. “But I’ll think about it.”
“Once you figure it out, all you need to do is forgive that person and you’ll be all set. Your heartmate will walk right into your life like he’s following a magnet.”
I bit my lip. I still didn’t feel ready.
“I know you can do it, Charlie. You’ve already come so far in this life, and things are just starting to take off for you,” she said knowingly.
“But how do I know things aren’t just going to vanish from underneath me?” I asked, the worry coming through in my voice.
She signed as if she was explaining that the sky was blue to a simpleton. “That’s the fear talking. You’ve got to make a choice every single day, Charlie, and your life pans out based on what you consistently pick. You’re always presented with two choices—”
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