My manicurist stifled a laugh. I was glad they thought he was so amusing. “No, it has nothing to do with wanting to become a baby again. It has more to do with the feeling of being cared for, of lying there and for a few minutes having nothing demanded of you besides your presence.”
“You know, it really doesn’t make sense to give someone money in order for you to relax.”
“Nothing makes sense under capitalism, darling. Don’t question it, just enjoy it.”
“How often do you do this?” he asked. He was looking at his hands like he was scared that the manicurist was going to break them.
“I used to come to the spa once a week, but I haven’t got the time these days.”
“Oh no, however will you cope?”
I laughed. There was truly a time in my life where I had nothing better to do than get spa treatments every single week, sometimes more than once a week. We were having a fun conversation, and I didn’t think it would be weird to open up to him a little bit, but I decided to keep my mouth shut. It wasn’t a secret who I was in my past life anyway. One quick Google search and plenty of my past was available for anybody who was curious enough to look. Every time I featured in an article, they never failed to mention that I was a good for nothing party girl before I decided to use my powers for good.
“You will be a convert by the end of this.”
“I know I’ve said this before, but not all of us have the kind of time that you do during the day to relax.”
?
?It’s not about having the time, it’s about making it. You work so hard anyway, you deserve it.”
After our nails were done, we were finally getting to the good part, the salon. I was so excited to say goodbye to that unruly mass of hair. And that beard? I looked at his reflection as he sat in the chair happy that that was the last time I was going to see that particular face.
“Do I get a say in how all this turns out?” he asked. The hairstylist was standing behind him, running her hands through his hair. A slight hint of jealousy surprised me. Easton had really nice hair, it was shiny and thick even though I knew he probably used some sort of wretched two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, or worse, no shampoo or conditioner at all, and just used the soap he used on his body for his hair as well. I knew without asking that he didn’t use any kind of beard oil either. How was this man living? My intervention in his life could not have come soon enough.
“No. None whatsoever. I want it short, the classic. Longer on the top of course, and get rid of the beard,” I said to the stylist.
“Wait a minute, everything?”
“Yes, everything.”
“Can I just keep a little on the chin, like the ten-day scruff kind of look?”
“No,” I said. It was all coming off. Beards did a lot for men. Truly, on the faces where God had not been so generous, growing a beard did a world of good, but I didn’t think Easton had one of those faces. He was conventionally, even superiorly good-looking. I wanted to get as far away from his old look as possible. Giving him a little bit of leeway with some scruff felt like encouraging bad behavior. I was not allowing him to have a beard if he would refuse to groom and properly take care of it.
Surprisingly, Easton didn’t really put up a fight. It was that massage earlier, it had put him in a mood good enough to be nice to me, which admittedly was part of the plan. People tended to be sensitive about hair, and I had left this to the end so he would be the most agreeable to it. So that he would shut his mouth and just let me work my magic. This makeover wasn’t for him, it was for Toby and for the image of his company. And for my reputation. Couldn’t forget that.
The locks of hair fell from his head and face. Progressively, more and more of Easton was revealed. It was like he had a bag over his head all this time and I was finally getting to see his real face. I hadn’t intended to stay for the entire thing, but I could just imagine having left and coming back to Easton when everything was done. I wouldn’t have recognized him. He was attractive, I knew that coming in, but without all the hair hiding his face, he was exceptionally hot.
“You’re a miracle worker,” I told the stylist. Under many men’s beards were receded chins and weak jawlines which they were doing their best to hide. Under Easton’s was a jawline cleft by Michaelangelo himself. Without all the hair, his sharp, high cheekbones were even more prominent. And then of course were those incredible lips that no longer had anything obscuring them from view. I sighed as the stylist did the finishing touches, cleaning up his brows.
Lord, what had I done?
I excused myself and flopped onto a nearby sofa. Making him more attractive wasn’t the plan but it had happened. Spending a day at the spa with him wasn’t the plan either but that had happened too. Since we were making a list, having sex with him hadn’t been the plan either. Here he was, hotter than ever and I still had to work with him, somehow ignoring everything he made me feel and maintaining some crumb of professionalism.
I was doomed.
15
Easton
So, this was how the super-rich wasted their time. Good to know. Not going to lie, it was fun. I could see why they did it, but I couldn’t see the reasoning behind doing it multiple times a month. It was like getting your car detailed, how often did you really have to do it?
The hairstylist took the smock away and dusted me off.
“What do you think?” She asked. I stared at the guy in the mirror. I knew that it was me, I just hadn’t looked like that in such a long time. It was the first time that I had seen my chin in months. I rubbed my hands over my jaw, getting used to feeling the skin without the cover of my beard. It would all grow back, I wasn’t worried about that. Now that I thought about it, the less hair I had, the less harassment I would get from Toby and Missy to take care of it. Why hadn’t I thought of that before?
“I’ll get used to it,” I told the stylist. I saw Missy behind me in the mirror.