Someone Like You

by Timothy J Beck

  “Of course!” Emily-Anne exclaimed. “I hope you don’t mind me showing up uninvited. Christian mentioned Sheila Meyers, and I just had to tag along. I want to see if Sheila will do an interview for my husband’s paper. This is so exciting. Imagine, a real New York model in our mall.”

  “She walks and talks, too,” Vienna said. “Sometimes at the same time!”

  “Hey, where’d you get that coffee?” Derek suddenly asked a little too loudly. “Anyone want coffee?”

  After waiting a while longer, things finally picked up when the director and the photographer showed up. Stand-ins for the bull and Sheila walked through the route the bull would take through the hall and into Drayden’s. Lights were readjusted, cameras were positioned, and Sheila was finally called onto the set. The bull was led there by a team of handlers and trainers. Vienna’s nerves were soothed when the bull seemed as bored and sedate as Sheila.

  “Listen up, everyone,” the director said to the crowd of staff and onlookers. “I can’t shout or yell anything, or it might upset Belle.”

  “The bull’s name is Belle,” Christian whispered incredulously, which caused Emily-Anne and Vienna to snicker.

  “You know that gives him gender issues,” Vienna said.

  “If everyone will be very quiet and keep still, this should all go off smoothly,” the director continued. “Let’s get into positions.”

  Vienna watched as a small ladder was placed next to the bull. Sheila put on her high heels and was about to step onto the ladder when her hairdresser raced up and climbed onto it instead in order to fix her hair one last time. At that moment, Emily-Anne’s cell phone emitted a piercing rendition of “Flight of the Bumblebee.” Vienna noticed Belle the bull’s surprised expression and briefly wondered if she herself had the same look when she found out her husband had cheated on her.

  A second later, Belle snorted and kicked the ladder, causing the hairdresser to fall over the saddle strapped to the bull’s back. Sheila screamed, losing one shoe as she ran away from the bull. Belle charged off down the mall in the opposite direction, the helpless hairdresser clinging to the saddle for dear life.

  “Cut!” the director shouted. Vienna rolled her eyes; he obviously had trouble differentiating between fantasy and reality.

  The bull handlers ran after Belle. Someone overturned the craft services table, and everyone tried to cram behind it. Vienna and Derek clung to each other and peered over the edge, fearing the worst. Christian held Emily-Anne, who was shouting into her cell phone. “This really isn’t a good time right now. I think I’m sitting on a donut. Can I call you back?”

  Vienna watched as the handlers ran back toward them, Belle hot on their heels. The hairdresser was still hanging on and screaming as the bull charged. Two of the handlers jumped onto a large planter, and another dove into a trash can as the bull rumbled past them.

  “It’s coming right at us!” someone yelled in Vienna’s ear.

  “I hate Blaine! I hate him! I really do!” Sheila screamed as the director grabbed her and pushed her into a nearby bathroom, where several other crew members were hiding.

  Belle suddenly veered right and circled around the planter again.

  “I don’t believe it,” Derek said. “She’s going the other way.”

  “He,” Vienna reminded him.

  “You don’t name a bull Belle,” Derek insisted.

  “You name a cow Belle,” Emily-Anne said, then dissolved in nervous giggles.

  “He’s headed right for Mikasa!” Christian exclaimed.

  “At least the gate’s closed,” Vienna observed.

  Belle charged right through the store’s plate glass window. Everyone ducked and screamed again at the sound of breaking glass. Now that the bull was somewhat cornered, the handlers raced toward him again, this time armed with tranquilizer guns. Vienna heard someone announce that everything was safe.

  “Safe? You call this safe?” Vienna asked, still not moving from her refuge behind the table.

  “Oh, poor Rex! Is he okay?” Sheila exclaimed as she ran from the bathroom and into Mikasa. “Someone call 9-1-1!”

  Emily-Anne whipped open her cell phone and began punching in the numbers.

  “Now I can cross Pamplona off my list of places to visit,” Christian said warily.

  The handlers led a weaving and staggering Belle out of Mikasa, where he collapsed into a heap in front of Drayden’s entrance.

  “I swear, I’m calling in sick today,” Vienna said.

  Fortunately, Rex the hairdresser was alive, although he’d sustained minor cuts and bruises, along with two fractured wrists. Vienna stared with admiration when he urged Sheila and the director to finish the shoot as he was being taken away on a stretcher.

  “What a trooper,” Christian said.

  “We can’t finish!” the director shouted at a mildly hysterical Sheila. “Our bull is asleep, your hair is a mess, you have no hairdresser, and half my crew has quit! We’re going to have to reschedule. Someone get me Blaine Dunhill on the phone!”

  “Emily-Anne, give me your phone,” Vienna said.

  Fifteen minutes later, a disheveled Davii ran up to them with a tackle box full of hair products, brushes, and combs, brandishing a hair dryer as if it was a gun. Vienna rushed him toward Sheila, saying, “This is my friend Davii. He’s a brilliant hairdresser. I’ll help with your makeup, if you want. Let us help you salvage this shoot.”

  A half hour later, Sheila emerged looking none the worse for wear, her makeup flawless. Davii had sculpted her blond tresses into a modified Mohawk, pinned and lacquered into place and decorated with crystals.

  “You look fantastic, Sheila,” the director said. “Are you sure you still want to do this?”

  “Oh, sure. A moment ago, he was yelling at her,” Davii whispered to Vienna.

  “I’m fine,” Sheila said. “How’s Belle? Poor thing.”

  Belle slept for another two hours, giving Sheila time to languish on the bull’s back as she applied Zodiac’s Taurus lipstick while gazing into a compact. The director circled around them with a handheld camera. Afterward, a photographer took stills of Sheila pretending to nap with Belle and more of her with one foot on Belle’s back, her fist raised in victory, as if she’d just wrestled the bull to the ground.

  Later, Sheila met Vienna, Davii, Derek, and Christian at the Jupiter Lounge. She showed Davii and Vienna Polaroids from the shoot and thanked them for coming to her rescue.

  “It was nothing,” Davii said modestly.

  “Speak for yourself,” Vienna said.

  Sheila hugged her, then said, “I’m so sorry for putting you all in danger. I had no idea any of that would happen.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Vienna assured her.

  “Emily-Anne feels terrible about her phone going off like that,” Christian said. “She thought it was turned off.”

  “I know; she told me. Even though insurance will cover it, she’s offered to pay for Rex’s hospital bills, Mikasa’s window, and any damaged equipment. I think she owns a bull now, too,” Sheila said.

  “How did the in-store event go?” Vienna asked her.

  “I can’t believe you called in sick,” Sheila said. “Actually, it was great. We sold a lot of Zodiac, especially after the morning news coverage about Belle’s rampage. People came in droves hoping to see a wild bull. Instead, they got me.”

  “I’m sure they weren’t disappointed,” Christian said.

  “Everyone loved my hair,” Sheila assured Davii. “I told them about you. You could be booked up for a while, giving lots of Terre Hautian teens mock Mohawks.”

  “I don’t know whether to thank you or throw my drink in your face,” Davii said.

  “Thank me,” Sheila insisted. “Because you’re coming with me.”

  Everybody stared at her in silence until Davii asked, “What are you talking about, Sheila?”

  “I’ve got appearances in eight major cities and a cosmetics convention in Los Angeles. I’m presen
ting at an awards show, and there’s another ad campaign to shoot in a couple of weeks. Rex can’t come with me, because he’s going home to recuperate, so I need a hairdresser. You’re it, mister.”

  Vienna held her breath, waiting for Davii’s response. She couldn’t imagine Davii leaving her, his job, everything, to join Sheila and her traveling circus. She tried to look excited when Davii finally exclaimed, “Yes! I’ll do it! I’ll be a model’s stylist!”

  “I feel like he’s getting married or something,” Derek said to Vienna, while Davii screamed and hugged Sheila. “Our little boy is growing up.”

  “Yeah, it’s great,” Vienna said placidly.

  Two days later, Davii was packed and ready to leave to meet up with Sheila in Chicago. The night before he left, Vienna sat with him in the living room. They were sharing a bottle of wine while Davii waxed rhapsodic about the day they first met.

  “You kept hanging up on everyone who called the salon,” Davii recalled. “Then you somehow scheduled three different people for one appointment. I managed to do a perm, a full head of highlights, and a cut and color all at the same time.”

  “Too bad it wasn’t all on the same person,” Vienna said.

  “If it was, I imagine I would’ve had to shave her head,” Davii mused.

  “I was a bad receptionist,” Vienna admitted. “At least I got a good friend out of it.”

  Davii smiled and raised his glass, saying, “I’ll drink to that.”

  “You’ll drink to anything,” Vienna said. “Speaking of drinking, watch out for that Sheila. She can really knock ’em back.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Davii said.

  Vienna rolled her eyes and sipped her wine. There was a lull in their conversation while she anticipated the next day, after Davii left. She tried to imagine what the apartment would be like without him in it and made a mental list of changes she’d have to face. It would be a lot quieter without his incessant club music. She wouldn’t have to endure bad sitcoms anymore. Davii’s ice cream addiction would no longer tempt her away from her diet. She could get more sleep, since Davii wouldn’t keep her awake with salon stories. And maybe she wouldn’t be late for work because of his long showers.

  Vienna started to cry. Within seconds, she felt Davii’s arms around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder, sobbing into his shirt. He stroked her back, whispering to her that everything would be okay. “Want me to get the tissues?” he asked. She nodded. When Davii returned with a full box of tissues, he removed one and held it to her nose. “Blow.”

  She batted it away from her face, saying, “I’m crying, not regressing. I’ll do it myself.” She dried her eyes and blew her nose. She dropped the used tissue onto the coffee table, then retrieved it and got up to throw it away in the kitchen.

  “Even when you’re a mess, you’re obsessively clean,” Davii teased.

  “Yeah, and I won’t have to go around cleaning up after you anymore,” Vienna said.

  “Yes, you will,” Davii said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Vienna glared at him over the kitchen counter. She felt angry. More than anything, she hated it when people lied to her.

  “You’re not coming back,” she stated firmly. “This is your big break, Davii. Use it. Ride the wave. Whatever cliché you need to make you see that this is your ticket out of here. They’re going to love you. Sheila’s going to take you back to New York with her, and you’re never going to leave.”

  “Her husband might not like that,” Davii said.

  “You’re going to meet some male model, or the sensible lawyer that you need to balance out your chaos and disorder. The bowl to your fruit cup.”

  “My what? You’re not making any sense,” Davii said.

  “The two of you are going to be very happy, and you’ll never give Indiana another thought,” Vienna said.

  “Get over here,” Davii said, patting the sofa. Vienna grudgingly sat down next to him. “You’re crazy if you think I want to leave you.”

  “I know you don’t,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you wanting something bigger and better.” Davii nodded and smiled. “I’ve known for longer than you think. I just hate to lose you.”

  “It’s going to take a little more than a few miles for you to lose me,” Davii said.

  Vienna threw her arms around him again and said, “Thank you for being my friend.”

  “You, too, lady,” he said. When they let go, Davii said, “Come on. This is my last chance to do your hair.”

  Vienna laughed and followed him into the bathroom, saying, “Okay. But give me something natural this time. Something that will last. It’s going to take me a while to find someone I trust with my hair.”

  When Vienna woke up the next morning, it took her a moment to remember that it was her last day with Davii. She went into the bathroom and splashed cold water over her face. Then she ran her hands over her head, liking the feel of the newly shorn hair on her scalp.

  “I asked for easy hair,” she said to her reflection, “and the boy delivered.”

  She put on a pair of black leather pants, a black shirt and suit jacket, and boots with high heels. She wandered into the living room and found Davii waiting with his bags. She bowed slightly and said, “I’m in mourning, but I look fabulous.”

  “How could you not?” Davii responded. He kissed her head, then picked up his bags.

  They took the elevator to the lobby, where a car waited outside to take him away from her. Vienna stopped in the middle of the floor. When Davii realized she wasn’t next to him, he dropped his bags and walked back.

  “This is where I get off,” Vienna said.

  “Right here? In the middle of the lobby? You dirty girl!”

  She grinned, then said, “I think you have us confused. Look, I said good-bye to you last night. Now I’m just saying ‘See you later.’”

  “Okay. See ya, sweetie,” Davii said after he hugged her again. Vienna watched as he walked away, picking up his bags and heading for the door. Before he went out, he turned one last time, and she waved.

  Vienna turned away quickly and went into the mall. She walked aimlessly, grateful that she had the day off. She sat on a bench and watched people as they moved past her. She considered shopping but couldn’t think of one thing she needed. She could have a drink somewhere, but it was too early. She pondered a quiet visit to Patti’s Pages, where she could spend time reading books she never intended to buy. Then she felt guilty for not supporting the authors, even though she’d only imagined not buying them.

  “I think I’m going crazy,” Vienna said to herself. She knew that she couldn’t self-diagnose, and that thinking she might be crazy meant she more than likely wasn’t. But she definitely didn’t feel like herself. She felt alone, an emotion she hadn’t known for a while. She started walking again, resolving to go home and face her empty apartment. But she got turned around and didn’t realize which way she was going until it was too late.

  “Hi! We got some new hats in today. Would you like to try one on?”

  “Can I ask you a question? Do you regularly get manicures? Would you like to try our new hand cream?”

  “Your eyes are red. Would you like a pair of sunglasses?”

  “No!” Vienna screamed at the Cart People. “I don’t want your stinking hats! I don’t want your cheap sunglasses! Leave me alone! Get away from me!”

  She turned to run, but a pair of hands landed on her shoulders and guided her to a bench by a nearby fountain. She sat down, oblivious to the person next to her as she put her hands over her face and cried.

  The man next to her soothed, “It’s okay. You’ll be fine.”

  “I can’t seem to stop crying lately,” Vienna said, calming down. She accepted the tissue the man offered and wiped at her eyes. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. My mother cries all the time, so I’m used to these sorts of things,” he said. She quickly looked him over. He had kind brown
eyes, sandy brown hair, perfect teeth, and a possible Oedipal complex. “Although she didn’t cry because of me. Her birds kept dying.” Vienna looked askance at the man. She couldn’t believe he was going on about his mother’s manic depression, which had nothing to do with her. “Of course, what she didn’t realize was that she kept accidentally mixing gardening fertilizer in with their food. Not actual manure, but that chemical stuff. She was poisoning the damn birds and didn’t even know it.”

  “Did she ever figure it out?” Vienna asked.

  “No. My father did, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her. He knew she’d be devastated if she found out she was the one killing them. He suggested moving the birds into another room, away from her gardening supplies. But she insisted that the birds loved being on the back porch. It was walled, with lots of windows. Apparently the birds needed a room with a view.”

  “So she just went on killing birds?” Vienna asked.

  “Yes,” the man said brightly.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Yes,” he repeated. Vienna stared at him, her face a mask of stone, until she shook her head and realized they were both laughing. “There. Don’t you feel better?”

  “I can’t believe you lied to me like that,” Vienna said, trying to be mad but finding it difficult.

  “I had to. It was a mercy lie,” he said.

  “Thank you, but I try not to associate with liars,” Vienna said.

  “What if I told you the truth?”

  “That would be a refreshing start,” Vienna replied.

  “Okay. Here goes. Even though your face is still a little tear-stained, I think you’re the most beautiful woman in this mall,” he said.

  Vienna stared at him for a moment, then said, “Unlike your mother, I know fertilizer.” When she stood up, so did he, which was when Vienna realized he was wearing a smock emblazoned with one of the cart logos. “You’re a Cart Person?”

  “I can’t decide if that’s politically correct or incredibly offensive,” he said. “Since you’re stunningly beautiful, I’ll overlook the remark.”

  “Okay, Cart Man. Whatever you say,” Vienna said offhandedly. Cart Man suddenly grabbed his heart, as if an invisible arrow had been shot into it. Vienna said, “Thanks for the tissue.”