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"I'll pay for it anyway," I said.
"That's not the point," she wailed with more volume than necessary. I knew she was trying to attract the attention of those women in nearby chairs and their beauticians. "We have clients we had to turn away, and pleasing our clientele is our first priority," she recited.
"Oh really," I said sharply. "Well. I don't see how you succeed with your attitude."
"My attitude?"
"What is happening here?" I heard a male voice ask from behind me, and turned to see a man with his dark hair in a ponytail. He wore black slacks and a frilly red shirt with the sleeves folded back over his slim wrists. His black pearl eyes flicked from the receptionist to me.
"She just arrived and canceled one of her appointments." The receptionist wailed. "With no notice!"
"I see."
"It couldn't be helped." I said "I apologized and offered to pay for it anyway. It was my mother's appointment."
"Oh, you are Miss De Beers?"
"Yes."
"I am Renardo de Palma. It's fine. Candace. There is no need to be histrionic." he added with a tone of authority and chastisement that brought immediate tears to her eyes.
"I'm just doing my job." she moaned.
"I'll take charge of this." he told her firmly. "Is your mother ill. then?" he asked me in a far softer, more concerned tone of voice, even though it lacked real sincerity. I thought he had a smile smooth enough to charm a cobra.
"Yes," I said, thinking that was the best and fastest explanation.
"These things happen. No earthquake. Please, let me take care of you personally,' he offered, turning me toward the workstations, "Don't mind her. She's my brother's child so I have to employ her." he said with a wave of his hand. The receptionist smirked. His brutal honesty brought a smile to my face.
"Right this way," he said. and led me to a chair in the rear of the salon.
I couldn't help but feel everyone's eyes on me as I walked alongside him. Conversations were put on pause. Beauticians froze for a moment. It wasn't until after Renardo took my jacket to hang up and put my purse aside and I sat that the place seemed to come back to life.
"So," he said. stepping behind me. let's see what we have here first."
He lifted my hair with his hands as if he were dipping them in a mound of diamonds and stared at my image in the mirror.
"Well. Miss De Beers." he began as if I were a four-year-old child. "you haven't been taking care of yourself as well as you should." He shook his head. "So many split ends. and your hair is too dry. I must do a complete treatment on you before we begin. We must wash it and condition it, and then we will decide on a cut."
"A cut? You think I need a totally different style?" I asked.
"But of course. senorita. You are not taking advantage of what your hair can do for your beautiful face." he said. "I think of a woman's hair as the frame for her face. which is the picture, and just like any wonderful picture, it can be enhanced or it can be diminished by a poor-quality frame. no?"
"I suppose so." I said.
"Muy bien. Then let us begin. You are in the hands of an artist. Don't worry." he said. and turned, "Trinity." he called to a young, dark-haired girl chatting with the receptionist. She stopped in what looked like midsentence, excused herself. and hurried to my side. "A wash and condition." he dictated. "Use formula forty-two,"
"Si, " she said. She had bright, eager dark eyes and looked not much older than seventeen.
"As soon as you are ready, I will be." Renardo promised.
He gave the young girl a very hard, almost threatening look. then left us. She looked like she was trembling as she pinned the protective sheet behind my neck and turned my chair gently so I could be lowered to the sink behind me.
"You are comfortable?" she asked as she did so.
Yes.
She tested the water, then began to soak my hair, moving her fingers through it with long, even strokes like someone who had just been taught how to do it and wanted to be sure she had the technique perfect.
