understand. I thought Grandma was way off base for once, but I nodded anyway, and she pinched my cheek.
“I want to get my hair done,” I said. “I can’t walk around like this anymore.” I was filled with resolve to turn myself around. The next time Mr. Perfect jumped out of a bush, I would be ready with highlights and long layers.
Grandma patted my hand. “That’s what I figured. I made an appointment for you with Bird in an hour. Don’t take the car. Bad day for driving.”
Bird Gonzalez owned the beauty shop up the street. Everybody who was anybody in Cannes went to her for their cut and color. There were three other hairdressers in her salon, but Bird was the star. She was crazy fast, able to shuffle clients around so that she worked on three heads at once. She had memorized the hair color of every local woman over the age of twenty-five and could mix up a batch of dye at a moment’s notice without consulting notes.
It was Saturday morning, and Bird’s place was packed. I didn’t know how Grandma had managed to get me an appointment, but she and Bird went way back. Bird made regular house calls for Grandma on Mondays.
“Hi, Gladie. It’s about time you came in.” Bird wavedme over to her chair with a big smile. “Where have you been hiding? Oh, my.” Bird studied my roots. From the expression on her face, they didn’t look good.
“Just make me look natural,” I told her. “Like a natural Angelina Jolie or something.”
Bird snorted. “Angelina Jolie is out of the question, but with a few highlights you’ll be a dark blond Kate Hudson with boobs.”
While Bird gathered her foils, I scanned the room. There were at least three viable women for Arthur Holden, my new perfect neighbor. I could kill two birds with one stone. I would get my much-needed makeover and get contacts for Arthur’s match. I slouched in the chair, proud of the new proactive me.
“Bird, is it weird that all of a sudden I’m noticing a lot of attractive men?” I asked.
“In this town? That
is
weird.”
“I’ve got a new neighbor,” I mumbled. “And there was this policeman …”
Bird clutched her chest. “Police Chief Spencer Bolton! Yum
-my
!”
The salon erupted in appreciative murmuring. The new police chief had gotten a lot of attention. “Get in line, honey,” said one of the hairdressers. “He’s gone through half the town already, and he’s only been here a year.”
“Nine months,” corrected one of the clients. “I put in hair extensions and bought a new wardrobe the day he arrived.”
“He’s been a boon for business,” said the other hairdresser. “There’s been a lot of upgrading going on.”
Bird tapped the end of a comb against her lips. “You say you only just noticed him? You must be going through a libido thaw.”
“Uh,” I said, “I’m not sure what that is.”
“You were in a libido freeze for some reason. Youdidn’t care about men, good-looking or not. Usually a libido freeze is caused by divorce or death.”
“Or commitment issues,” said one of the hairdressers.
“That’s a laugh. Zelda Burger’s granddaughter with commitment issues,” piped up one of the customers. The salon broke out in giggles.
“Anyway,” Bird continued as she put the final foil wraps in my hair, “you’re thawing out. You’re probably emitting pheromones right now. It comes with the thaw. Men will be flocking to you and your pheromones. Soon you’ll be losing weight, too.”
I wondered if Bird smelled something on me that I didn’t. Unless pheromones smelled like the drugstore’s generic antiperspirant, I didn’t think I was emitting them. As for men, I had no idea what I would do if they started flocking to me.
“I can’t lose weight. My grandmother’s house is junk food central,” I said.
“There’s only one good diet,” Bird said. “The Spit It Out Diet. It’s not bulimia. It’s safe and effective.”
She stepped back from my chair and did a dramatic turn.
“I want to get my hair done,” I said. “I can’t walk around like this anymore.” I was filled with resolve to turn myself around. The next time Mr. Perfect jumped out of a bush, I would be ready with highlights and long layers.
Grandma patted my hand. “That’s what I figured. I made an appointment for you with Bird in an hour. Don’t take the car. Bad day for driving.”
Bird Gonzalez owned the beauty shop up the street. Everybody who was anybody in Cannes went to her for their cut and color. There were three other hairdressers in her salon, but Bird was the star. She was crazy fast, able to shuffle clients around so that she worked on three heads at once. She had memorized the hair color of every local woman over the age of twenty-five and could mix up a batch of dye at a moment’s notice without consulting notes.
It was Saturday morning, and Bird’s place was packed. I didn’t know how Grandma had managed to get me an appointment, but she and Bird went way back. Bird made regular house calls for Grandma on Mondays.
“Hi, Gladie. It’s about time you came in.” Bird wavedme over to her chair with a big smile. “Where have you been hiding? Oh, my.” Bird studied my roots. From the expression on her face, they didn’t look good.
“Just make me look natural,” I told her. “Like a natural Angelina Jolie or something.”
Bird snorted. “Angelina Jolie is out of the question, but with a few highlights you’ll be a dark blond Kate Hudson with boobs.”
While Bird gathered her foils, I scanned the room. There were at least three viable women for Arthur Holden, my new perfect neighbor. I could kill two birds with one stone. I would get my much-needed makeover and get contacts for Arthur’s match. I slouched in the chair, proud of the new proactive me.
“Bird, is it weird that all of a sudden I’m noticing a lot of attractive men?” I asked.
“In this town? That
is
weird.”
“I’ve got a new neighbor,” I mumbled. “And there was this policeman …”
Bird clutched her chest. “Police Chief Spencer Bolton! Yum
-my
!”
The salon erupted in appreciative murmuring. The new police chief had gotten a lot of attention. “Get in line, honey,” said one of the hairdressers. “He’s gone through half the town already, and he’s only been here a year.”
“Nine months,” corrected one of the clients. “I put in hair extensions and bought a new wardrobe the day he arrived.”
“He’s been a boon for business,” said the other hairdresser. “There’s been a lot of upgrading going on.”
Bird tapped the end of a comb against her lips. “You say you only just noticed him? You must be going through a libido thaw.”
“Uh,” I said, “I’m not sure what that is.”
“You were in a libido freeze for some reason. Youdidn’t care about men, good-looking or not. Usually a libido freeze is caused by divorce or death.”
“Or commitment issues,” said one of the hairdressers.
“That’s a laugh. Zelda Burger’s granddaughter with commitment issues,” piped up one of the customers. The salon broke out in giggles.
“Anyway,” Bird continued as she put the final foil wraps in my hair, “you’re thawing out. You’re probably emitting pheromones right now. It comes with the thaw. Men will be flocking to you and your pheromones. Soon you’ll be losing weight, too.”
I wondered if Bird smelled something on me that I didn’t. Unless pheromones smelled like the drugstore’s generic antiperspirant, I didn’t think I was emitting them. As for men, I had no idea what I would do if they started flocking to me.
“I can’t lose weight. My grandmother’s house is junk food central,” I said.
“There’s only one good diet,” Bird said. “The Spit It Out Diet. It’s not bulimia. It’s safe and effective.”
She stepped back from my chair and did a dramatic turn.
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