With a whisper he said, “I’ll take it.”
She quickly backed off and triumphantly said, “Great! Now make sure you follow all the directions. I would go ahead and use it as soon as you get home so that it has plenty of time to work.”
Neville nodded politely and walked away, frequently looking back to see if the siren selling the hair products was real or a personification of myth brought to life by his despair. Once he was out of sight, Sarah quickly dismantled the table and dragged her set up back her own car. She didn’t think she would be able to tell Victoria about this without wetting herself from laughter.
19
That night, Neville went through his normal beautification ritual. Upon emerging from his sauna/shower, he wiped the sweat from the mirror and shaved his face. His skin was still red and tingling from the heat of the shower. But he liked the extreme heat, the way it made him lose feeling in his skin and weakened his muscles to point of shakiness. He was utterly relaxed. Well, almost utterly relaxed. He couldn’t fully relax until he was shaved and his hair had been properly attended to.
After the shave, he picked up the bottle of Sydney’s Hair Rejuvenation and Gel Replacement Therapy and squirted a large dollop into the palm of his hand. It tingled in his hand like the gel was actually composed of millions of microscopic spiders playing tag across his palm.
Night had arrived swiftly, bringing with it the threat of rain. As Neville stood in his bathroom contemplating the potency of his new hair product, the sky opened like a torn bean bag chair and spilled its confetti-like hail. The sudden impact of the frozen rain combined with a magnificent clap of lightning shook the house and gave Neville a less-than-settling feeling in his gut.
But chalking that all up to his depression, he slathered the tag-playing spiders all over his scalp where they seemed to intensify their game play. Barely containing a girlish giggle from the tickling arachnids running through his hair, Neville took a brush to his majestic mane and headed off to bed.
After the day he had, he wasn’t in the mood for Craig Ferguson or crappy microwave dinners. He shut off his lamp and tried to sleep away the gloom of the day. He fell asleep to the sound of hail slowly dissolving to rain, slowly dissolving to dreams.
The morning brought sunshine, but no joy. Neville was determined to be in a sour mood. He figured that he deserved to live his life in misery for all he had done. Even more depressed than the night before, he neglected to even look in the mirror. Instead, he threw on his suit from the day before, half-heartedly tried to smooth out some of the wrinkles, slipped on his loafers without socks and left his house.
Pulling into his parking place in the garage adjacent to his father’s building, he inadvertently looked at himself in the rearview mirror and noticed something odd about his hair. He hadn’t brushed it that morning, but it appeared a bit more disheveled than what it should. He slid his spread hand through his hair to try and smooth things out a little, but withdrew it with horror as there, resting between each finger like bound wheat waiting to be refined, were clumps of black, shiny hair. Looking again in the mirror, he beheld three glistening white ovals where once hair had grown thick and fair.
His scream was loud enough to shatter windows, but wasn’t audible outside of his Audi A4, which was a good thing. The last thing he needed was someone running to the rescue only to see the monstrosity he was becoming.
There was a hat in his trunk. If he could get to it, then he might be able to make it to his office with at least a modicum of dignity. Everything would be fine once he was in his office. He could figure out his next move from there. He pressed the button on the dashboard that released the trunk, which flew up behind him, obscuring his view of approaching pedestrians. It was crapshoot now. Everything depended on speed… and whether or not the hat was actually in the trunk.
There was nothing else to do. He opened his door and committed himself to that course of action. But instead of going slow and stealthy, he opted for speed. Unfortunately, that decision caused him to overlook the slick of oil conspicuously settled next to the rear tire. Two steps after his departure from the relative safety of the driver’s seat, he watched in surreal slow-motion as his feet left the ground and pointed up to the ceiling.
He landed on his back with a sickening thud, but his breath rebounded back into the air, leaving his lungs completely empty. He rolled onto his side and tried to regain his breath. Still a weak from his fall, he flung his left hand up to the trunk and held on with everything he had in him. With his next burst of strength, he pulled himself up to peer into the trunk. He sat there on his knees for a moment, trying to breathe normally once again. His mind temporarily left the glaring bald spots on his head and instead focused on the fact the he was wearing a light grey suit that was now dappled with black spots that had a rainbow sheen when viewed from the right angle.
“Crap! Are you kidding me?”
There was no one around to answer his question. Not that he wanted an answer. He reached into the trunk and pulled out the hat. He yanked it down over his blotchy head and slammed the lid shut.
With his cap firmly in place, Neville pulled himself off of the ground with the help of his car. He stood with dignity just in case anyone had seen his recent fight with the concrete, and went into the building. Pretending nothing was wrong, he greeted everyone with the usual pleasantries, but no one was able to answer. Their mouths opened, but no sound came out as they gawked at his uncharacteristic appearance. He resembled stone-age businessman who crawled out of a tar pit, and was now on his way to a Mets game. The stubble on his face wasn’t even noticeable when taken in context with the rest of his appearance. His suit was still covered with rainbow slicks, which only seemed to accentuate the dirt that accumulated in valley formed by the mountainous wrinkles. The back right pocket of his pants hung by the few remaining threads that didn’t snap under the force of the impact with the garage floor.
Once inside the safety of his office, he slumped into his chair and began to think about what to do next. But the thought barely began to form when a knock came on his door.
“I’m in a meeting,” he said to the closed door.
But the door swung open anyway and Sammy came walking in.
“Hey, Neville. I thought you might…Whoa. What happened to you?”
“You happened to me.”
The malice in Neville’s voice smacked Sammy across the face. Although, he couldn’t fully understand why it was directed at him.
“Me? What’d I do?”
“It was your stupid idea that caused this whole mess.”
“What mess?”
“She saw me at the golf club, you idiot.”
“Oh.” Sammy’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I didn’t think…”
“No, you didn’t.”
“How was I supposed to know that she’s walk all that way? I was betting on the fact that mugging her would put her out of commission, at least for a day.”
“Mugging?” Neville noticed the redness in Sammy’s face, around his eyes. “You didn’t. How could you…why…Are you out of your stinking mind?”
“It was a good idea.”
“To mug someone? When is that ever a good idea?”
“It could’ve worked…”
“But it didn’t. And she’s out for revenge.”
“Revenge? How?”
Neville took a deep breath and slowly removed his hat.
“Whoa,” Sammy said.
As Neville looked into the hat, he realized that there was probably more hair in there than there was on his head.
“Did she sic an animal on you?”
“No.”
“You look like you have mange.”
“I don’t have mange.”
Sammy let out a little giggle. Neville threw the nearest thing at him, his ball cap, and strands of hair created a contrail that slowly sank to the floor long after the hat made contact with Sammy’s face.
“Somehow she was able to slip someth
ing into this new hair gel I got. I put it on last night and when I woke up this morning, hair was coming out in clumps.”
“What’re you gonna do?”?
“I don’t know. Shave it I guess.”
“No. I mean about her. You can’t just let her get away with this.”
“I know. But this has gone far enough. I’m going to go down there and explain to her that I had nothing to do with the mugging. Then this can all be over.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because she knows you’re involved. You were at the golf club taking her place. She knows you had something to do with it.”
“But not the mugging. That was you’re stupid idea. I never wanted to hurt her.”
“Trust me, she can handle herself. I’m still not walking right.”
“Either way. I’m going to at least try to smooth things out. Then she’ll apologize and we can get on with our lives.”
“It’s up to you, but I don’t think it’ll work.”
“I’ve had enough of your thinking. I’ll take it from here.” Neville walked across the room and grabbed his hat. Shaking out the remaining hair, he put it back on his head. “And the next time you have a great idea, run it through a ‘stupid filter.’ Anything left, if it still resembles an idea, should be thrown into the trash.”
“Neville, I…”
“I don’t want to hear it. Just do me a favor and stay away from me.”
He walked out of the office and left Sammy alone to ponder his next move.
20
The front door swung open with such force that it created a miniature vacuum that shuffled the papers around on Victoria’s desk. She looked up and saw Neville standing in the doorway. Her initial shock wasn’t because he was standing there, but rather because his appearance was more of a homeless person, burning with the crazy fire of hunger that might persuade him to do things drastically out of character. The only part of Neville that didn’t appear ragged was his perfectly shaved head. It glistened in the fluorescent light of the ATA offices.
“Neville,” she said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh I think you know.”
She was confused as she had no idea why he was there. But she had a sinking feeling that his disheveled appearance would somehow be her fault.
“I really don’t know. Are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” he said as he slowly walked across the checkerboard-floor towards her desk where she was now sitting anxiously, gripping the armrests with such force that the indentations of her fingers would no doubt be impressed into the armrests for as long as the chair remained in existence.
“I have to say that I’m a little surprised.”
“At what?” Victoria asked with trepidation.
“That you would have the guts to do something like this,” he said as he rubbed his smooth scalp.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Really? You’re going to deny it?”
“Deny what? I swear that I didn’t do anything.”
“I can’t believe you. You can’t even fess up.”
Sarah walked out Mr. Richter’s office. She saw the confrontation and turned around, tippy-toeing back the way she had come. Victoria saw her slinking back to the office and knew what had happened.
“Neville, let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain. I can’t believe this. You know I was actually coming down here to apologize and set things right?”
“Neville, I…”
“But you can’t even admit that you overreacted and went way overboard with your revenge.”
“Revenge?” Indignation flooded Victoria’s voice and was released like a tsunami heading straight for Neville. “There was certainly no revenge taking place here. If anything, it was Karma coming back to you for having me mugged. I can’t believe you would go so far as to send a mugger after me.”
“I didn’t send anyone!”
“I saw you at the club, Neville. You can’t deny it.”
“I’m done with this conversation.” Neville stomped back towards the door like a defiant four-year-old who had had quite enough of his parents’ scolding.
“Where are you going?”
“To Niroki. This competition is finished. Game over. I’m going to get him to sign the contract and this whole ordeal can be over.”
“What about us?”
“Are you kidding me?” With that, Neville swung open the door and left.
Sarah poked her head out of Mr. Richter’s office and assessed the situation before fully emerging from her safe haven. Victoria looked at her, stunned.
“What did you do, Sarah?”
“I’m sorry, Vic. I just wanted to teach him a lesson.”
“What did you do?” Victoria repeated.
“I relabeled a bottle of hair remover and gave it to him.”
Victoria snickered at the ingenious scam. He really did deserve it, but she still felt sad. She didn’t want any of this, but she didn’t know what to do to make it better.
Sarah came up to the desk and sat down opposite Victoria.
“What do I do now, Sarah?”
“Just let it go. There’ll be other accounts.”
“No. I mean what do I do about Neville?”
“He’s a jerk. Just pray that you don’t ever see him again.”
“But he’s not a jerk. I feel like this whole thing got blown way out of proportion. He’s a sweet guy that did something really stupid.”
Sarah’s face looked concerned and disgusted all at once.
“Are you saying you want to fix things with that creep?”
“I don’t know. He made me feel so special, so loved. I’m worried that if I don’t get him back, I may never find that again.”
Sarah’s expression softened.
“Then you should go after him.”
“You think?”
“It’s either now or never.”
“But what if he rejects me? What if it’s too late?”
“Then at least you know.”
Victoria contemplated this for a second. Then: “You’re right. I’m gonna go find him.” She jumped from her chair and pulled on the white suit jacket that matched her pant suit and ran out the door.
21
Neville stood inside the ornately painted elevator. The mural was finished and the illusion of being swept away into a world with no worries was complete. Neville felt at peace in the painted palace interior. He wished he could be in a place where drama ceased to exist. A place where competition was frowned upon. A place where he and Victoria could live happily ever after. But he was not in that place. The world he lived in required cunning and strategy. There was no room for romance. He had tried to let someone in and it only resulted in heartache and baldness.
The doors slid closed, but before the two sides could reach each other, a hand slid into the crack in the door, preventing them from closing. As the door reopened, Neville was shocked to see Victoria step inside. As she came in, Neville slid to his right, covering the wet paint sign that hung on the wall. Unaware that the mural wall was still wet, Victoria went to the back wall and leaned up against it.
“Neville, I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to hear anything you’ve got to say.”
“Can’t you just put your pride aside long enough to hear me out?”
“What you did to me was inexcusable. There’s nothing you can say to undo it.”
“What I did? What about you? I was physically attacked and had my keys stolen, then I walked fifteen miles just to see you taking my place on the golf course. You just lost some stupid hair.”
Neville began fuming. “Losing my hair is no small matter. I take great pride in my looks. You know that.”
“I followed you here to apologize for that.”
“It’s too late for that now. I’m going to sign Niroki and move on with my life. I suggest you go back to your failing com
pany and get over it.”
Victoria was indignant. She felt like she was dealing with a little kid throwing a tantrum. The doors opened on Niroki’s floor and Neville stepped out. Victoria was about to follow but felt some resistance. She peeled herself off of the wall and looked behind her where she saw a perfect imprint of her torso where the beautiful mural had once been. She grabbed her suit jacket and swung it around only to see various shades of gold and other striking colors that now adorned her suit. With an exasperated yell she took off after Neville.
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