Down at the dinner table, Dad served up ziti and Mom unwrapped a fresh baguette she’d picked up at CJ’s.
“Don’t say I never contribute to dinner.” She dropped the baguette on the long bread plate in the center of the table.
“How was work, girls?” Dad asked, serving himself up a steamy pile of ziti.
“Actually,” Mom began, cracking off the end of the baguette, “since Devon came up with the idea for Be Gorgeous, the whole mood at the salon has changed.”
“Oh yeah?” Dad asked. I guess Mom had already told him about the demonstration, which was a really good sign. It meant that she was genuinely excited about it and thought it could work.
“Everyone is excited about it. Frankly, I think the staff is just as sick of Devon not working as she is.”
“That’s great news,” Dad said.
“And it certainly doesn’t hurt that the first model is someone they all know and love,” Mom said, beaming at me. Even though I was anxious about the whole Devon-cutting-my-hair thing, it felt good to be doing something to make her proud for a change.
On Friday, I ran all the way from school to the salon. When I got there, I asked Megan if anyone had canceled on Rowan for early evening facials. I know the e-mails said there was no need to cancel, but I was a little worried that maybe one of them missed it and would call anyway.
She looked at the computer. “No. Should someone have?”
“No,” I said, relieved. “Here’s the rest of what I owe you.” I gave her the rest of the money for the facials, and hoped it was all worth it.
As I swept, I kept my eyes on the front door so that I could pounce into action as soon as Kristen arrived for her four o’clock appointment. When the door chimed and she stood at the reception desk, looking a little tense around the mouth, I hustled up front to greet her.
“Hi there!” I said as if we were great friends and nothing at all was wrong.
“Hey, Mickey,” she said. To Megan she said, “I won some drawing? I’m here for my facial.”
“A salon drawing?” Megan said, checking some papers on her desk. “I haven’t see—”
“Oh my gosh!” I said, cutting Megan off. “You won! Congratulations! Megan, I think the envelope that has Kristen Campbell’s name on it is for her. Because she’s Kristen Campbell. And she won! Yay!” I seriously needed to get a handle on my nervous ramblings. “I’ll show her back, okay?”
Megan said, “I’m not asking a single question.”
“I can’t believe I won something,” Kristen said. “I was looking for you at school to ask you about it, but I guess we kept missing each other. I don’t even remember entering.”
“Actually,” I said, “Lizbeth entered you when she was in here last week.”
“Oh,” Kristen said. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
I thought I saw her bottom lip quiver, like maybe she was about to cry, but she said, “If we were talking then I might tell her thank you.”
“I’m sure you guys will talk again soon,” I said.
“Don’t count on it.”
“In here,” I said, showing her to the little room with the tan curtain hanging between the two chairs. I showed her to the chair farthest from the door. She set her purse on the floor and took her seat.
“Rowan will be here in just a sec,” I told her.
Kristen took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. I quietly closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief that the plan was officially in action.
Lizbeth arrived at ten minutes after four. As I approached the front desk, she turned her eyes toward me and gave me a warm, friendly greeting.
Not really.
“Ugh,” is what she actually said.
“Hi, Lizbeth,” I said as I ignored yet another quizzical look from Megan. “I’ll show her back,” I told Megan. Then I turned back to Lizbeth. “Ready?”
“I didn’t think you worked Fridays,” Lizbeth said, her feet firmly planted.
I realized this was not going to be easy. Seeing Lizbeth’s defiant stance there in the lobby made me realize I was crazier than even I thought. “Lizbeth, really, I’m so sorry for ever saying anything, even a single word, to Kristen. I didn’t mean any harm by it.”
Lizbeth tossed her long hair over her shoulder in that casual-but-not-really way.
“I was just trying to make conversation with her,” I said. “How was I supposed to know it was a secret?”
“You shouldn’t have been listening to us in the first place,” Lizbeth said, looking down at her feet.
I knew she was right. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I really am.”
Lizbeth finally looked at me straight on. “I’m just mad about the whole thing.”
“Have you guys talked at all yet?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s such a mess. I don’t know what to say to her. I never told her I’d take her, but I always bring her to the country club parties. I don’t blame her for being mad or hurt.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
I motioned for Lizbeth to follow me to the back. For the plan to work I had to get her to speak freely, but at just the right time. And we only had seconds—as soon as Kristen heard Lizbeth’s voice, she’d know it was her and would probably throw a fit.
Just as we got to the spa door, Lizbeth said, “Can I tell you something?”
“Sure,” I said.
“It’s just, I really want Kristen to go with me tomorrow night. I always did. Everything just got so messed up.”
I opened the door for Lizbeth and showed her to her chair.
It was time.
I silently showed Lizbeth to the facial chair, and Rowan came around the curtain from Kristen and shot me a look. I put my finger to my lips, begging her to be quiet.
“Excuse me?” Rowan stage-whispered. An exaggerated sigh came from Kristen’s side of the curtain, like she was totally being disturbed as she tried to Zen out.
“Sorry!” I begged. I gestured to Lizbeth, shrugging helplessly like it wasn’t my fault that she was there early.
Rowan tapped her wrist where her watch would be. All facial appointments were to be made a half hour apart, and I’d purposely scheduled Lizbeth’s appointment fifteen minutes early.
“Sorry,” I mouthed and smiled meekly as if there was nothing I could do about it. Rowan shook her head, her mouth pulled tight. Thankfully, though, she went back to the other side of the curtain to continue working on Kristen.
I pulled up the small stool that was in the corner and sidled up next to Lizbeth, whose eyes were closed. “So,” I said softly but right in her ear. Lizbeth pulled away from me. I turned around and grabbed two freshly sliced cucumbers from the tray and plopped them over her eyes. “Close your eyes and relax,” I said.
CHAPTER 23
“You said you really wanted Kristen to go to the party, huh?” I whispered. Lizbeth twitched away from me, but then nodded her head.
“Well,” I whispered. “Then why didn’t you invite her?”
She shrugged her shoulders. I could tell she was starting to get a little creeped out by my behavior.
“You must know why. She’s your best friend!”
Lizbeth snapped a cucumber off one eye and looked at me. “Shouldn’t we be quiet?” She whispered, nodding toward the curtain and the mystery person on the other side.
“No, no,” I said. “Just me. She”—I pointed toward the curtain—“won’t mind your talking.” Lizbeth seemed suspicious, but put the cucumber back over her eye. “So . . . what happened?”
“She’s my best friend,” Lizbeth said in a low voice, but above a whisper. “I, like, love her like a sister. But she’s so outgoing and fun and funny that when she’s in a room no one notices anyone else within a five-mile radius.”
I heard rustling on the other side of the curtain, and was sure that Kristen had not only heard Lizbeth, but probably already knew it was her. I tried to nudge her along
more quickly by mmmhmming to her.
“The thing is,” Lizbeth said, “I really like Matthew and I just know that once she gets around him and starts talking, he’ll like her more than me. Two summers ago at camp there was this boy I told her I liked, and she said she’d go talk to him for me—you know, scope him out, see if he liked me. They started talking so much they forgot all about me. And Kristen was the one he ended up liking.”
“I would never steal Matthew from you!” came a voice from the other side. Lizbeth lifted her head, cucumbers and all, and turned toward the voice. The curtain ripped open, and Kristen stood before us, her face green and tears in her eyes. “And you know I didn’t mean for that to happen with what’s-his-name at camp that one time!”
“Okay, that’s it!” Rowan said, throwing her hands up in defeat. “I’m going outside. Let me know when you’re done playing games.”
Lizbeth finally took off her own cucumbers, and I scooted back on the stool toward the corner of the tiny room, which was suddenly feeling suffocating.
“I know you didn’t mean to,” Lizbeth said. “That’s not the point.”
“Well, what is the point?”
“The point?! The point?!” Lizbeth was clearly on the verge of hyperventilating. I hoped she didn’t pass out because I totally didn’t know CPR. When she finally got the words out, I just wanted to tell her she was crazy. “The point is—you’re prettier than me! And more fun! And everyone likes you more!”
Kristen and I both pshawed at the same time. Luckily they didn’t seem to hear me.
“Not true!” Kristen said. “That’s just . . . stupid!”
“Oh, thanks a lot.”
“No, you know what I mean. Lizzie.” She took a second to take a deep breath, stepping closer to Lizbeth in her chair. “I honestly don’t know what I did to make you ditch me for the fund-raiser tomorrow night. I mean, I can’t believe you’d think you’d need to ditch me. I didn’t know I was such an awful friend.”
“You’re not! Seriously, K, you’re not. It just seems like sometimes you don’t really listen to me when I tell you I like someone. It’s like you don’t take me seriously or something, and then when that guy is around you say things that embarrass me and make me want to hide. Before I know it, he’s looking at you and not me.”
“Lizzie,” Kristen said, tears forming in the ridges of the thick seafoam paste of the mask, “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry! I feel awful!” The tears ran into her mask and she started to look like her face was melting.
“I know,” Lizbeth said. “Maybe you could just, well, tone it down a bit? Let me be in the spotlight sometimes—or at least around guys I like?”
“Of course, totally, one hundred percent. I swear!”
They started hugging, and laughing then, as Kristen got facial mask goop on Lizbeth’s shoulder. Lizbeth didn’t care, though. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you before,” Lizbeth said. “But do you want to go to the fund-raiser thing with me tomorrow night? I know it’s short notice and all.”
“Of course I’ll go!” Kristen said. “Will you help me shop for a dress tomorrow?”
“Totally.” Lizbeth smiled, and they hugged and cried a little more.
At some point during all their party talk, they finally remembered that someone else was in the tiny room with them. They turned their eyes on me; I nervously eyed the hot wax bowl that sat nearby, hoping they didn’t decide to fling it at me as punishment for tricking them into talking.
“You,” Lizbeth said, narrowing her eyes at me. I shrank back into the corner even more. “You promise to keep your mouth closed about everything?”
I pointed to my mouth. “I lost the key a long time ago.”
“Good,” Lizbeth said.
“And . . . well . . . y’know . . . thanks for staging this tearful reunion, Mick,” said Kristen. Then she touched her cheek. “Oh gosh—my face is seriously starting to crack.”
“I’ll go get Rowan,” I said, and left them alone to hug it out one last time in private.
CHAPTER 24
Before I left for work on Saturday, I sat in front of my vanity to say good-bye to my hair. I had cut out some styles from magazines the night before, but there was no telling what Devon would do once she had the scissors in her hand.
From the moment we opened our doors, the salon was slammed. It reminded me so much of my first day working at Hello, Gorgeous! except this time, I knew what I was doing.
Not only were we jam-packed with the regular weekend craziness, but it seemed like half the town needed us to get them ready for the country club party that night. Violet, Giancarlo, Piper, Mom, Karen, and Rowan were all booked solid with clients every second of the day.
And on top of all that, the big show was to start at two o’clock, and there wasn’t an empty chair in the house.
The good thing about the salon being so busy was that I didn’t have time to worry about how my cut would turn out. If I wasn’t sweeping, I was showing clients back to the facials room or helping Gladys with the towels that were flying off the shelves or fetching drinks or doing any one of the hundreds of little jobs I was asked to do.
Time zipped by and before I knew it, Lizbeth and Kristen were in the salon with their moms to get their hair done for the fund-raiser. I waved to them, and Lizbeth motioned for me to come over.
“Hi, guys,” I said, walking up to them, still a bit self-conscious of my plastic smock. I told myself that even if it wasn’t glamorous, it was part of the job and the job was glamorous. It sort of helped.
“Hi,” Lizbeth said. “We heard that there’s going to be some demonstration here today on styling? That’s so cool.”
“Yep, it should be,” I said.
“Is your mom doing it?”
“No. Actually, Devon is.”
“Oh my gosh,” Lizbeth said. “Seriously?”
I nodded yes.
“Why?” Kristen asked, confused. “Who’s Devon?”
“That one,” Lizbeth said, pointing to Devon, who had just come from the back. She looked extra Devon-ish today, wearing a cherry-print black dress with a red corset belt.
“Oh,” Kristen said. “Wait, isn’t she the one that . . .”
“Yeah, isn’t she?” Lizbeth said.
“No,” I told them. “It was a misunderstanding. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Who’s she working on, anyway?” Kristen asked.
“That would be me.”
“No. Seriously?” Lizbeth said.
“Serious as a military cut,” I said.
Lizbeth laughed. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“You guys had a lot of stuff going on,” I said.
“Mickey!” a voice called. I turned to see Devon waving me back. How could it be time already?
“Come with me,” she said, guiding me away from Lizbeth and Kristen. They waved good-bye to me as if I were being marched off to the discount barber shop on the other side of town. I held the ends of my hair and said a silent good-bye to my long locks.
Devon had passed a message to me through Mom telling me not to wash my hair that morning. I figured it was because I’d get a good scrubbing at the salon, but when I leaned back in the sink Devon only got it wet.
“But I didn’t wash my hair this morning,” I said as she sat me up and put a warm towel on my head.
“Good. Just like I asked.”
“But you didn’t wash my hair just now!”
“Would you relax?” Devon said. “It’s going to be fine.”
Devon had me change into a robe, then met me in the break room. She didn’t want to cut my hair in front of the audience. It was one thing to show clients how to style their own hair. But showing them how to cut? “That would be like a chef giving away his secret recipes,” Devon explained.
Devon patted the chair that she’d set up for me. “Take a seat.” I did as she told me. I would be courteous, obedient, and pleasant, the perfect customer. The last thing I wanted to
do was, well, anything else that could provoke her to destroy my hair.
“Wait, my pictures,” I said to Devon. “They’re in my bag. I need to get them.”
“What pictures?” she asked.
“Of what I want my hair to look like. I brought in samples, like you’re supposed to.”
“No way.” She shook her head. “You said I could do anything I wanted with your hair.”
“I did not!”
“You said you trusted me.”
“I did?”
Devon turned her piercing green eyes on me. “Well, you should. Come on, I have it all planned out in my head. You’re going to look amazing when I’m done. Just go with it.”
This was most certainly not the way a stylist was supposed to act with a client. They were supposed to consult first, talk about what kind of look the client wanted, then come to an agreement together. If Devon was so great, then why didn’t she know all that?
“You’re not supposed to do it like that,” I said.
“Just trust me,” she said for the second time.
And really, at that point, what other choice did I have?
One thing Devon was adamant about was not letting me see what my hair looked like until everything was done. I tried to figure out what she was doing as she snipped, clipped, and cut, but I couldn’t get a good sense. The only thing I did know was that she gave me bangs. I could actually see the hairs hanging down in between my eyes. It was driving me crazy that I couldn’t look at myself. “Can’t I just have one quick peek?”
“Nope,” she said. “You’re just going to have to be patient. Now sweep this floor.”
Okay, let me break it down. I knew I was working and all, but I was also part of the show—some might even argue the star. I must have made a pretty sour face becau—
“I’m joking!” she said, a smile cracking across her face. “Come on. Let’s get out there and do this.”
When I walked out on the floor, I was shocked to see how packed it was. I was so distracted, I even forgot to check myself out in the mirrors as Devon guided me to her station. There were two short rows of folding chairs filled with ladies and a couple of girls. The rest was standing room only. Women of all ages stood talking and waiting, and I noticed a couple of girls from my school and even . . .
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