the driver, held the door open for her and, linking her arm around Cassie’s elbow, led her towards an industrial-looking building. ‘We’ve already had this conversation – remember? Need-to-know only,’ Kelly said, patting her arm soothingly. ‘Look, I’m one of your oldest friends in the world, Cass. Everything I’m doing is in your best interests.’ She pushed the door open with her bottom as her BlackBerry beeped again. ‘Just trust me.’
‘Where are we?’
‘The only place that justifies travelling south of 57th,’ Kelly said, draping herself over a granite reception desk like a lounge singer. ‘Hey, Trudie. Bas ready for us?’
‘Oh yeah,’ the receptionist nodded. ‘He cleared his morning for you.’
Cassie felt the panic mount. What the hell was going to happen to her here?
‘Come this way,’ Trudie smiled. She handed Cassie a black wraparound cover-up and led her across a polished walnut floor. Everywhere Cassie looked, she could see women with foils, towels, dryers on their heads. So far, so conventional.
Then she saw him. The man Kelly had run over to and was hugging like a long-lost friend.
‘Cassie, this is Sebastien. Bas,’ Kelly said, taking a deep breath. ‘This is Cassie.’ The way she said it suggested that her ‘unveiling’ of Cassie was a momentous event.
‘Hi,’ Cassie said quietly. She was appalled. Rail-thin, six foot three and covered in acne scars, all she could think of as she looked at him was deep-fried Ryvita. She’d never seen someone so overly tanned. The man had clearly sailed past mahogany without stopping.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. The way he was looking at her, it was as if she was the one who needed saving.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘Hmmmm. Sit down,’ he said imperiously.
She slid into the chair and he swung her round to face him. Carefully, he pinched a strand of hair disdainfully between two fingers. It was true she hadn’t washed it since the party, and what with jet lag, an international flight, heartbreak and a near heart attack on the run this morning (Kelly had used up all the hot water in the shower, so it wasn’t as if she’d been able to wash it even then), she knew her hair wasn’t looking at its best. Cassie watched Bas and Kelly scrutinize her hair intently, and her mouth began to dry up. It all seemed terribly serious and suddenly very important that he should be able to help.
‘When was this last coloured?’ he asked, peering closely at the strands. ‘It must have been years ,’ he murmured.
‘Actually, I’ve never coloured my hair,’ she said. It had always been a point of pride for her to have remained naturally blonde for so long, though her mother kept telling her that would change when she had children.
Bas dropped the hair in fright, his eyes roaming her face and taking in the aeroplane clothes, unwaxed eyebrows, unmanicured nails . . . if he only knew what was going on under her jeans.
‘You’re not from here, are you?’ he said sympathetically.
Cassie shook her head. Wasn’t it obvious? Little green men from Mars would do a better job of blending in than she would, it seemed.
Kelly checked her watch. ‘Are we good? You can do something?’
Bas paused dramatically and then nodded. ‘Yes. I can do something,’ he said with intensity, as though he was going to perform life-saving surgery.
‘You’re a king! I’ll come back in two.’ She kissed Cassie on the cheek and squeezed her shoulders reassuringly.
‘Make it three!’ he called after her.
Cassie shrank into the chair a little deeper as Kelly skittered out, straight back into a cab.
‘Soooooo,’ he exhaled. ‘What kind of blonde were you thinking of?
‘Just the usual, I guess,’ she shrugged.
He looked at her. ‘What does that mean?’
‘You know, kind of yellowish?’
‘Kind of yellowish ?’ he echoed, shaking his head. ‘Oh boy, this is worse than I . . .’ He blew out his cheeks and started at the beginning. ‘My
‘Where are we?’
‘The only place that justifies travelling south of 57th,’ Kelly said, draping herself over a granite reception desk like a lounge singer. ‘Hey, Trudie. Bas ready for us?’
‘Oh yeah,’ the receptionist nodded. ‘He cleared his morning for you.’
Cassie felt the panic mount. What the hell was going to happen to her here?
‘Come this way,’ Trudie smiled. She handed Cassie a black wraparound cover-up and led her across a polished walnut floor. Everywhere Cassie looked, she could see women with foils, towels, dryers on their heads. So far, so conventional.
Then she saw him. The man Kelly had run over to and was hugging like a long-lost friend.
‘Cassie, this is Sebastien. Bas,’ Kelly said, taking a deep breath. ‘This is Cassie.’ The way she said it suggested that her ‘unveiling’ of Cassie was a momentous event.
‘Hi,’ Cassie said quietly. She was appalled. Rail-thin, six foot three and covered in acne scars, all she could think of as she looked at him was deep-fried Ryvita. She’d never seen someone so overly tanned. The man had clearly sailed past mahogany without stopping.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. The way he was looking at her, it was as if she was the one who needed saving.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘Hmmmm. Sit down,’ he said imperiously.
She slid into the chair and he swung her round to face him. Carefully, he pinched a strand of hair disdainfully between two fingers. It was true she hadn’t washed it since the party, and what with jet lag, an international flight, heartbreak and a near heart attack on the run this morning (Kelly had used up all the hot water in the shower, so it wasn’t as if she’d been able to wash it even then), she knew her hair wasn’t looking at its best. Cassie watched Bas and Kelly scrutinize her hair intently, and her mouth began to dry up. It all seemed terribly serious and suddenly very important that he should be able to help.
‘When was this last coloured?’ he asked, peering closely at the strands. ‘It must have been years ,’ he murmured.
‘Actually, I’ve never coloured my hair,’ she said. It had always been a point of pride for her to have remained naturally blonde for so long, though her mother kept telling her that would change when she had children.
Bas dropped the hair in fright, his eyes roaming her face and taking in the aeroplane clothes, unwaxed eyebrows, unmanicured nails . . . if he only knew what was going on under her jeans.
‘You’re not from here, are you?’ he said sympathetically.
Cassie shook her head. Wasn’t it obvious? Little green men from Mars would do a better job of blending in than she would, it seemed.
Kelly checked her watch. ‘Are we good? You can do something?’
Bas paused dramatically and then nodded. ‘Yes. I can do something,’ he said with intensity, as though he was going to perform life-saving surgery.
‘You’re a king! I’ll come back in two.’ She kissed Cassie on the cheek and squeezed her shoulders reassuringly.
‘Make it three!’ he called after her.
Cassie shrank into the chair a little deeper as Kelly skittered out, straight back into a cab.
‘Soooooo,’ he exhaled. ‘What kind of blonde were you thinking of?
‘Just the usual, I guess,’ she shrugged.
He looked at her. ‘What does that mean?’
‘You know, kind of yellowish?’
‘Kind of yellowish ?’ he echoed, shaking his head. ‘Oh boy, this is worse than I . . .’ He blew out his cheeks and started at the beginning. ‘My
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