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“I just want a wash and a trim, maybe an inch or two, depending on what you think it needs to make it healthy. Then if you wouldn’t mind doing some beach waves, that’s all I’m looking for,” I answer, grinning at her because her smile is infectious.
“Perfect! Let’s get it washed before I trim it.”
She leads the way to the hair washing station, and as I sit down at the chair, she drapes a smock over the front of my body and velcros it shut behind my neck. I lean my head back as she adjusts the water temperature. The shampoo that she uses smells like peaches and flowers, and she massages my scalp with her fingertips. Her fingers work magic, and the scalp massage almost puts me to sleep. She moves on to conditioner and uses a wide-tooth comb to comb it through my ends.
We move back to the chair after she finishes rinsing the conditioner out of my hair, and Miriam asks, “Where do you usually part your hair? I don’t want to trim in the wrong direction.”
I take the comb she’s holding for me and part it slightly to the right. I can’t do a middle part because of the massive cowlick in the front.Thanks, genetics.
Miriam trims the dead ends from my hair, which only takes around ten minutes. Then, she grabs her blow dryer and dries my hair with the cool setting.
“You said you wanted soft beach curls, right? I’m going to use my straight iron instead of a curling iron so the curls aren’t too tight. Let me go grab my texture spray so the curls hold well.”
Miriam walks over to another salon station and grabs a purple bottle of cream.
She comes back over to me and uses a pea-sized amount and rubs her hands together before rubbing the cream through my hair, grabs her straight iron and goes to town, making my hair look far better than I ever could. Miriam is efficient and finishes my hair in less than fifteen minutes. She uses a light mousse to scrunch my hair and then sets it with hairspray.
“Voila! You look great,” she says, “Your hair is very healthy. Just make sure you’re getting it trimmed every six weeks. Those dead ends will split all the way up the shaft of the hair, and yours is too pretty for all that mess. Trim and style together will be forty-five dollars,” she adds.
After I hand her cash, she says, “Thanks, Alana! It was so nice to meet you. I hope I’ll see you again soon, say maybe in six weeks?”
Miriam waves goodbye as I walk out of the salon.
Thankfully, it isn’t windy out, but I need to hurry home before the humidity kills my curls. On my drive home, I contemplate what to wear. The address that Andreas sent me is for a nicer bar in a nicer area, so I don’t think jeans and a nice top would be appropriate. I also don’t want to dress too fancy or slutty. This means I’m gonna have to video chat the girls and get their opinion. If I ever hit the lottery, I’m hiring a professional stylist to dress me because I can’t color coordinate to save my life. I usually just wear black and white because it’s hard to mess up.
I pull into my parking spot and see Skye standing to the right.
“Hey, lady. What are you up to today?” I ask her as I hop out of Greta and shut the door. She’s in her nursing clothes, so I assume she’s heading to work or coming home.
“Well, I was about to head to work, but my tire is flat. I noticed it was low a few days ago, but I always forget to stop and put air in it.”
She sighs and walks around to the other side of her car to examine her tire.
“Well, I can follow you to the gas station around the corner to make sure it doesn’t pop and strand you. You’ll just have to drive slowly so you don’t damage the rim,” I tell her. I check my watch and see that it’s 3:30 PM. I still have plenty of time to come home and get ready, and I already needed to stop for gas, so two birds one stone.
“Are you sure? You look cute, like you’re getting ready to go somewhere,” Skye says.
“Oh, no! It’s not a problem. I’m leaving, but not until four forty-five. Hop in, and we’ll go over there. I needed gas anyway. You’re just saving me a stop later.”
While we talk, I walk back over to the driver’s side door of my car and open it, signaling to Skye that I won’t take no for an answer.
She gets in her car and backs out slowly, so I follow her. We make it to the gas station, and I watch Skye bend over to put air in her tire. She waves at me as she drives away while I’m pumping gas into my car. I run in and pay and buy a pack of gum, then head back to my apartment to get dressed. It’s three-fifty, so I gotta hurry.
26
Chapter Twenty Six
Alana
“Hey girls, hey. What’s going on?” Ricole sings into the camera when she answers my video call.
“Well, as you both know, I have dinner with Andreas tonight. I have no fucking clue what to wear. The bar is a little fancier than what I’m used to. Help.”
I stress-fluff my hair and look pitifully at the girls.
Ashley says, “You’d look good in a paper bag, dumb ass. Go pull three outfits, and we’ll help you narrow it down.”
My overflowing closet greets me: I pull shirts, skirts, and dresses out haphazardly. The first outfit I hold up is a white button-up, half sleeve shirt. It’s a silky material, and the neckline goes down into a V in between my cleavage. I hold up a yellow skirt that knots in the front, hugging my hips tightly. It comes down to mid-calf but has a slit where it knots in the front, so it shows a lot of leg. Once I show them the top and bottom, I hold up a pair of sky-blue pointed-toe heels.
