I decide to go inside and book an appointment. I’m sure a salon like this is very busy, and I will probably have to wait a few weeks to get a slot. Maybe by then, my timidity will be back, but for now, I am ready to make this happen.
The woman with the rainbow hair is paying as I walk in, her stylist, a tall woman with short blue hair that’s styled a bit like it’s the 1940s with a black ribbon in it, says, “That’ll be one-eighty, hon,” and I almost choke. Damn, getting your hair done in Cali is expensive!
“Totally worth it!” the woman says as she swipes her card. “Thanks so much, Skye!”
“Thank you for the tip!” the stylist, Skye, says. “If it starts to fade, come back, and I’ll touch it up. Have a great day, Rain.”
I almost laugh that her name is Rain and Skye gave her a rainbow in her hair…but I keep it together as it’s my turn to approach the counter. “Hey, there,” Skye says. She’s about my age, maybe a little older. “Are you Shirley Buckner?”
I glance around, like maybe she’s talking to someone else. “Uhm, no,” I tell her.
“Damn,” she says under her breath. “Where is she? She’s two hours late!”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. “I just…uh…I was hoping I could make an appointment.” I’m starting to feel a bit jittery, like maybe this is dumb. Maybe I don’t belong in a place like this after all.
“Sure, sweetie.” Skye’s friendly smile cheers me up right away. “What would you like to have done?”
“Well, actually, I just saw what you did to that woman’s hair, and it’s so pretty,” I say as Rain is long gone out the door and down the street. “But I don’t think I could pull that off. Maybe just one color? Like… some lowlights or something?”
“Absolutely!” Skye says. “With your coloring, you’d look great as a blonde.”
“Blonde?” I repeat. I have red hair. Does blonde look good when you have red hair? She seems to think so.
“Sure, come look.” She reaches across the counter and gently tugs my arm, and now I am following her to the back of the salon where there are tubes of color but also books with pictures in them of different cuts and colors.
She expertly flips to a photograph of a woman with long, wavy red hair, a lot like mine, and her complexion is light like mine as well. On the next page is the same model with a nice blonde color running through her hair. It’s subtle—nothing crazy—but Skye is right. It works nicely, and I agree. It’s just what I was looking for.
“That would be amazing!” I tell her. “When can you get me in?”
“Well,” she says, glancing at the clock, “I called Shirley about an hour ago to remind her of her appointment, and she said she’d be here right away. Since I already canceled my current appointment to make room for her, and her ass is still MIA, why not right now?”
My eyes enlarge as I stare at the stylist, not sure I’ve heard her right. “Now?” I clarify. “Right now?”
“Oh, are you busy?” she asks me.
“No.” I’m not busy…I’m just scared. I don’t tell her that, though.
“Sure, let’s go for it.” Skye has my arm again, and this time she’s leading me over to a station, and before I have time to think about what is happening, she’s taken my bags, put them aside, and set me in the chair.
Skye works quickly, and though she tries to explain to me each of the steps she’s taking, I don’t really know what she means. Stripping color, adding color, etc. She talks a bit to the other two girls who are doing hair here, but mostly she chats with me, asking me about why I moved to California, what I do for a living, how I like it here, etc. I find out she was born and raised here, that she has a boyfriend—Rick—and that they are considering moving in together. She’s super easy to talk to, and now I know why my grandma always joked that her stylist knew things even Grandpa didn’t know.
“So…no boyfriend?” she asks me as she begins to take the little foil wrappers out of my hair.
“Ugh…” It’s about all I can manage.
She laughs. “Complicated?”
“You could say that,” I tell her. “There is a guy, but we only slept together once, and then he told me I was a mistake.” I almost shake my head but then realize that’s probably not a good idea.
“Well, I hope you told his ass goodbye!” she says. “No one gets away with treating you that way, Meghan. You’re too hot for that—and too nice.”
I feel myself blushing. “Thanks,” I tell her. “I have basically ignored him ever since it happened.”
“Is he still coming around?” she asks, sounding shocked.
“Not exactly. We…work together.” I don’t want to tell her he’s my boss.
“Maybe it’s time for another job?”