Ridley swallowed as he tried to picture that. “What? So like leather?”
Cole smirked as he lined up three types of scissors on a tray beside him. “Sometimes. Sometimes with jeans. It’s all about the accessories, really.”
Cole’s fingers returned to his hair, and Ridley closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure he could handle watching Cole’s reflection while he worked. He’d rather not see his hair fall away.
“I wouldn’t know,” he said, replying to Cole’s comment. “I’m hopeless when it comes to fashion. I need to get new clothes too, but I’m not really sure where to start.”
“You’re going all out for this guy.”
“Yeah, I’m trying,” Ridley said. “I figure I’m at a crossroads. I can keep doing nothing and watching Jace play the field. Maybe he finds someone and gets serious while I’m still on the sidelines. Or I can take my shot, and then live with the outcome, whatever it is.”
“That’s brave.”
Ridley opened his eyes, meeting Cole’s gaze in the mirror. He was surprised by the sincerity he saw there.
“Brave would have been taking my shot years ago.”
“You’ve been friends a long time, I take it.”
“Since high school.”
Cole snipped a bit of hair, lifted another section and snipped again. “Well, look on the bright side. If you’d made a move back then, even if he went for it, you guys weren’t ready for forever, right? You’d have crashed and burned.”
“Maybe.”
“So, now you’re both older. Maybe he’s ready for you, hmm?”
Ridley smiled. “Maybe.”
“So, what’s next after the salon?”
Ridley groaned. “I’ll have to go to my friends again and ask them to help me find someone who can dress me. I wish I had a tenth of your style. You look like a model.”
“Wow. Well, thank you.”
Ridley felt his cheeks heat up. Why did he say shit like that?
“I could help you, if you wanted,” Cole said.
Ridley blinked, surprised by the offer.
“I’m not trying to put you on the spot,” Cole said. “You know how to reach me if you decide you want some help with a new wardrobe. We’ll finish up your hair, and you can just give me a call if you decide to take me up on the offer.”
“Thanks,” Ridley said. “That’d be great.”
Cole was remarkably fast once he started focusing. He cut Ridley’s hair, then he brought out a razor to shave the back of his neck and over his ears. He cut the back of Ridley’s hair short, but he left the top and sides longer. Then he blew it dry and worked in some pomade in an old-fashioned-looking tin. Ridley was skeptical, but when Cole held up a hand mirror so he could see all sides, he was impressed.
His hair was thick and wavy on top, but it had an intention to the mess that worked. He’d always envied those guys who looked like the wind had just blown them around and somehow their hair was tumbled and gorgeous.
“Whoa.”
“Too much?”
“It’s great,” Ridley said, eyes wide. “I had no idea my hair could look like this.”
“You like it then,” he said, sounding relieved. It was amazing that a man as talented as Cole could need the praise of Ridley, who knew diddly about hairstyles.
“Yeah, but …”
“What is it? Spit it out.”
“That’s what he said,” Ridley said on reflex, as he would with Jace or Callum.
Cole nearly busted a gut laughing as he cleaned his station. “That is so not what he said,” Cole said with a smile.
Ridley ran it back through his head, then laughed as his face heated. “No, I guess not.”
“So, what were you going to say?” Cole prompted after an awkward silence.
“What? Oh! I was going to say that my hair will probably never look like this again, huh? I don’t have the magic touch.”
If only he could call Cole to come over to his house every day and style his hair. He wondered if Cole had a boyfriend. That’d be a good gig. A boyfriend plus a hair stylist. Of course, maybe Cole wouldn’t want to work at home. He’d be like, stop using me for my style!
Ridley almost laughed at the ridiculous direction of his own thoughts. Thankfully, Cole answered, pulling him back into the moment.
“It’s easy, sweetie.” Cole picked up the tin of pomade. “Just get your fingers damp, then get a little of this — and I mean, just a little — and work it into your hair. Don’t try to direct it too much.” Cole demonstrated with his fingers when he talked. “You’re just messing it around, you know? The more chaotic, the better with this style.”
“Okay …”
“Trust me,” Cole said. “I’ll give you a free sample, okay? You can try it out. Call me if it doesn’t work. I’ll give you some tips.”
Ridley looked into the mirror again. Despite Cole’s assurances, he was skeptical. He held out his phone. “Will you take a picture for me anyway? Just in case …”
Cole plucked the phone from his fingers. “Oh, ye of little faith. Yes, I’ll take the picture, but I’m texting it to myself for my portfolio. I should have taken a before pic. I always forget.”
“I might have something I can send you that’s pretty recent,” Ridley offered shyly.
“Oh, would you? That’d be great,” Cole said as he stepped back and held up the phone. “Now, smile and say, Jace is mine!”
Ridley laughed. “No way.”
Cole took a couple of pictures, then handed the phone back. “Believing in yourself is more important than any makeover,” he murmured.
The moment stretched out, with Cole’s eyes on his and his fingers on Ridley’s. Then he pulled away and unfastened the robe still draped over Ridley. “All done! Let’s get you out of here.”
“Thanks again,” Ridley said as he stood at the front counter, his head feeling oddly lighter. Cole hadn’t taken off that much hair, but everything felt different when he moved his head. He must have been shaggier than he realized because the breeze from the AC vent on the back of his neck felt strange.
Cole set a tin of pomade on the counter, and Ridley paid his tab plus added a ten-dollar tip. He wasn’t sure of tipping etiquette, but Cole had been great. He probably deserved even more, but he looked happy when he glanced down at the receipt.
“Okay, remember my offer. Call if you want help with the next phase of your makeover.”
“You seriously want to help?”
“Sure. Why not?” Cole said. “I like shopping.”
“I’d pay you …”
Cole rolled his eyes. “Call me, Ridley. You don’t have to pay me. Let’s just consider it a favor between friends.”
“Yeah?” Ridley’s chest warmed. It’d be really nice to be friends with a guy like Cole. He seemed so damn nice, and yet he was sophisticated too. Ridley could probably stand to have a little more class in his life. “I’ll call then.”
He was still smiling when he left the salon.
6
Anita had already gotten a table at El Toro by the time Cole arrived. He weaved his way through the Mexican restaurant, full to bursting during the dinner rush, and gratefully claimed the fishbowl-sized frozen margarita she’d ordered for him.
Dropping into his seat, he leaned forward to take a long suck through his straw.
“Mmm raspberry,” he said, smacking his lips as he sat back. “My tongue will taste good tonight.”
“There’s a visual,” Anita said. “You have someone in mind for a tasting?”
For some ridiculous reason, Ridley flashed into his mind. Probably because he’d had the man on his mind since styling his hair. Something about Ridley pulled at Cole’s heartstrings. He was so sweet, but he needed to work on his confidence.
“Nope,” Cole said. “Definitely not Travis.”
“Thank God for that,” Anita said, tipping back her margarita on the rocks. She licked some salt off the rim before saying, “I can’t believe the nerve of that guy, try
ing to talk you into being his … what? His mistress? Boy toy? What’s the appropriate term here?”
“Nothing, how’s that for a term? I’ll be nothing to him.”
“Damn right! You’re too good for him.”
Cole smiled wanly. “Sadly, I’m too good for everyone. Poor, gorgeous Cole, so far above mortal men he must go on alone.”
He lifted a hand to his forehead, striking a dramatic pose, and Anita snorted.
“Don’t give up your day job in hopes of a life onstage,” she said.
Cole dropped his arm, snagging a tortilla chip and dragging it through the sweet-and-spicy mango salsa he loved. “I couldn’t do anything else. I love my work.”
He looked around the restaurant as he crunched, registering its festiveness for the first time since he walked in. The mariachi music playing through the overhead speakers; the colorful Fiestaware-style plates and bowls; the colored lanterns swaying from the ceiling; and the large bull mural in honor of its name. He and Anita went to the restaurant often enough that the surroundings had easily blended into the background.
Anita snapped her fingers to get his attention. “So, what’s the story with that guy who came in today?”
Cole shrugged. “New client.”
“Mm-hmm. You smiled a lot while styling him.”
“So? I smile a lot with everyone,” Cole said.
It was true. He put on his customer service persona, chatty Cole, and made small talk while he worked. He could do it in his sleep, although he’d admittedly been wide awake while talking with Ridley.
“This was different,” Anita said. She tapped a finger to her lips as she thought. “It wasn’t your fake smile.”
“I do not fake smile,” Cole protested. At her skeptical look, he waved a hand. “Okay, maybe sometimes. It’s not fake, just professional. I don’t know. Ridley was sweet. He’s trying to change his look to impress his best friend, and he seemed nervous, so … yeah, I smiled for him.”
“See? You need someone sweet,” Anita said. “Why don’t you ever date nice guys?”
“It’s not on purpose,” Cole said. “I don’t intentionally seek out bad guys.”
“Don’t you? Before Travis was that asshole Kirk. What I’m not sure of is, do you go for these guys because that’s your type or because they treat you like crap, and you somehow think you deserve that?”
“Fuck off, I don’t deserve it!”
“I’m not saying you do,” Anita countered. “Just that maybe you seek it out subconsciously. Like you date the kind of guys who probably bullied you in high school. Are you trying to prove you’re brave enough to face them, or are you trying to prove they wanted you all along? I don’t know. I don’t have a psych degree.”
“Which is why you should shut your trap,” he said without anger. He thrust a menu at her in the hopes she’d soon fill her mouth with burrito and stop analyzing him.
He’d heard her theory before, and the shitty part was that he wasn’t even sure she was wrong. Maybe his subconscious did want to prove that those homophobic bullies turned into gay men who wanted Cole. But that was fucked up, and he’d prefer to think he just had bad luck with men.
“Sorry,” Anita muttered, taking another drink as she flipped through the menu. Like magic, a waiter appeared next to the table, and Anita ordered the same thing she always did: fajita salad, extra sour cream. Cole ordered without even looking at the menu: two chili rellenos, black beans, and rice. He needed the carbs to soak up the tequila if he wanted to function the next day. He sensed they were nowhere near done with their alcohol intake for the night, but he was ready to stop talking about his love life.
“What’s new with Gabrielle?”
Anita shook her head, the overhead lights making her blue-green hair shine. “I don’t know, man. She gives me mixed signals.”
Anita had crushed on Gabrielle for almost as long as Cole had known her. She was Anita’s neighbor in an apartment complex, and Anita had no idea of the woman’s sexuality because she never seemed to bring anyone home.
“What kind of mixed signals?”
Anita shrugged, looking glum. “She invited me over for dinner.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Then she asked me questions about colored hair the whole time. I wasn’t sure if she was curious about my hair or just asking because of my profession, you know? Fuck. For all I know, she has a girlfriend who just colored her hair. I felt like an idiot.”
“Aw, maybe she was just making conversation,” Cole suggested. “Any other signs?”
“Um. She comes by to borrow things a lot. Flour. Sugar. You know.”
“I didn’t think you baked much.”
Anita barked a laugh. “I don’t. I had to go shopping so I’d have the supplies next time she stopped by. No reason for her to visit if I never have the goods.”
Cole laughed at her, slurping the remains of his margarita. “Let’s get some of those cinnamon churro things,” he said.
“And more margaritas,” Anita said.
“Goes without saying,” he agreed.
Ronnie looked up from the sofa, where she was tugging on high-heeled boots, when Ridley emerged from his bedroom. He’d spent the past two hours working on his Lego Godzilla replica that he was making freehand. It’d required sorting through his thousands of Legos for the best colors and sizes, and sometimes — when he failed to think a number of steps ahead — going back to approach the project from a different angle. As detailed and tedious as it could be, Ridley always found it relaxing. Plus, he’d needed the stress relief after going to the salon.
It wasn’t so much his experience in Cole’s hands. He couldn’t have asked for a better stylist or a nicer guy. Or a hotter guy, for that matter. The stress came from the significance of what he’d done. He’d begun Phase 1 of upgrading to Ridley 2.0, and there was no going back now. Jace would see him, and when he did, he’d either be impressed with Ridley’s new hairstyle, or he’d be as oblivious to it as everything else. And Ridley didn’t feel prepared for the moment of truth. Not yet.
“Oh my God,” Ronnie said, jumping up with wide eyes.
Ridley felt heat climb his neck as he hesitated at the edge of the living room. “That bad? I thought it looked good at the time, but … it’s probably not me, huh?”
Ronnie broke out of her stupor and crossed the room to run her fingers through his hair. “Ridley, it looks great.”
“So great your eyes bugged out,” he muttered.
“In a good way!”
His sister stepped back, eyes scanning him. “Doesn’t really fit with the rest of you, though. I mean, it’s like male fashion model meets gamer who lives in his mom’s basement.”
Ridley gave her a narrow look. “You know very well I live with my annoying twin, not my mom.”
She giggled. “I’m just teasing you, Rid! It looks so fantastic. You should come out with me. I’m meeting Jace and one of his paramedic buddies for dinner and drinks. Jace says his partner is hot but straight, so I might have a shot.”
Ridley rolled his eyes. Ronnie was ever the optimist. She had a thing about a man in uniform, any uniform, except for police officers. One week in her job as a 911 dispatcher had killed those fantasies.
“Good luck with that, but I kind of want to complete my overhaul before I go hang out with Jace.”
She blinked. “Overhaul?”
He gestured to his outfit. “Like you said, the hair doesn’t match the clothes. I’m planning to update my entire look.”
She looked concerned. “And this is all for Jace? Ridley …”
Ridley drew her to the sofa. They had to sit close because Ronnie had left a pile of laundry on the end cushion. That was nothing out of the ordinary, so neither of them paid any attention to it.
“I know it seems crazy,” Ridley admitted. “I figured that Jace would never be into me that way. I was mostly okay with that, even though I couldn’t really kill my interest in him. But then Leo happened.”
“No, but he’s the first guy who’s not some built-up jock. I always figured I wasn’t Jace’s type. I wasn’t hot enough or whatever.” Ridley shrugged. “Leo was cute, but so am I.” He hesitated. “Right? I mean, not super cute, but okay?”
She swatted his arm. “Hey, you’re my twin. How about you stop insulting me with this ‘okay’ business?”
He rolled his eyes. “We’re not identical.”
“We’re not far off,” she muttered.
Like Ridley, Ronnie had a dark mass of hair and big brown eyes. Unlike him, she could wear her hair longer and make use of the natural waves, whereas his usually just stuck out in weird directions. That actually worked with this hairstyle, though. Ridley took a moment to revel again at Cole’s talent as he caught his reflection in a mirror on the wall. It was like seeing a stranger in his living room.
“I’m just saying that if Jace can be into Leo, then maybe he could be into me. Maybe he just needs to realize I’m not the little high school sophomore he took under his wing anymore.”
Ronnie bit her bottom lip, her eyes filling with a sympathy he didn’t want to see. It meant she thought he didn’t stand a chance.
“I get it. It’s a stupid idea,” Ridley said, standing up, “but it’s the only one I’ve got, and it beats standing by and watching Jace hook up. If this doesn’t work, then fine. Maybe I can move on if I know without a doubt that I gave it my best shot. It’s all the what-ifs that are killing me.”
Ronnie stood and grabbed his arm when he would have stomped off, totally ruining his storming-out speech.
“It’s not stupid,” she said.
She dragged him into a hug, her slender arms clenching around his shoulders, squeezing him extra tight. When she pulled back, she smiled and brushed a hand through his hair.
“You look great. Really. And I’ve never thought you were anything but awesome-sauce, Rid. I’ve only ever thought that Jace was blind to a great thing.”
Ridley didn’t believe her, and it must have shown on his face. She poked his chest. “It’s true. But who knows … Maybe you’re right and he really will see you and all you have to offer. I don’t think it should take a makeover to do that, but …”
Operation Makeover Page 4