spring, summer, autumn or winter. For the occasion, I decided on a white gauze ensemble and sling-back Italian sandals. I wore my long hair off my shoulders and looked cool and casual, like I stepped straight out of a Ronrico Rum ad.
* * *
“Everyone, come gather ’round,” Darla called to the ninety or so ladies in her oversized penthouse suite turned color salon. “I want you all to see something.”
I sat on a salon chair with swatches of different colored fabrics draped over my shoulders and across my neck. Darla had me by the chin whiskers.
“Have a look at Maya here,” she addressed the group in a loud voice. “Maya is an ‘autumn.’ This explains why she always looks so sallow. I’ve always wondered why Maya looks so sallow. Well, this is why!”
A gasp went around the room.
She went on, “An autumn can never wear these colors.” She then rotated all the jewel toned fabrics past my neck and face.
“Further, an autumn can never wear these cool tones because cool tones wash out an autumn completely.” A look of pity played across her face, as she held the cool tones against my cheek.
“Then, to further complicate things for poor Maya, look at this!” She gleamed a wicked smile. “Even though Maya has the standard sallow autumn coloring on her neck, arms and parts of her face, she also has a ruddy hue on her cheeks that can make her look rough, raw and even rather coarse,” she said, puckering her lips in distaste.
I heard soft murmurings around me.
“Ladies, one more thing,” she crowed, “don’t be like poor Maya and wear white, if your teeth have a yellowish cast to them. Never ever wear a shade of white that is brighter than your own teeth.”
With that, she turned to me and smiled her very white smile.
“Thank you for volunteering, Maya. My girls can help you select the earth tones that flatter an autumn complexion with ruddy highlights. Next!”
I thanked her and slipped out of the demo chair.
Pretending to be even-complected, I stood tall and cut through the crowd. Obediently, I headed for Darla’s assistants, who would probably place a burlap sack over my head to cover the yellow-toothed, sallow , nightmare that was me.
Someone in the crowd followed me and grabbed my hand.
“I wonder how you ever dare to leave the house, you poor sallow thang,” Alana drawled, a little twinkle in her sad and puffy eyes.
“Ya got me,” I answered. “I guess I’m just naturally shameless on top of being naturally sallow—and ruddy.” We grinned at each other.
“Don’t mind her,” Alana continued. “She’s a nasty old bitch.”
“Hey, I thought you got her this gig. Isn’t Darla your friend?” I asked.
“Sure she is. But she’s still a nasty old bitch.” Alana winked, turned and walked away.
Chapter 18
Dave Enderly, French’s second-in-command, called me at home.
“Hi, Dave,” I said. “You’re one lucky guy to reach me. I just stopped in for a moment between having my colors done and hosting a ladies’ luncheon at Papa’s Place.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it, Maya.” Dave’s baritone boomed into the phone. “Rick has some of his guys tailing you everywhere you go on property. And I have some of my guys tailing Rick’s guys.”
I laughed. “So, everywhere I go, I trail a long line of ‘gardeners’ and other hotel staff?”
“That’s right!” he said. “You ought to look behind you sometime. It’s like you’re the Pied Piper of Silver Pines.”
That was a funny image, all those guys trailing after me. I laughed and wondered if I should lead them on a merry chase the next time I went somewhere. I could bob and weave through these grounds like a palmetto bug on speed. I knew this place like I knew the new fall collection of St. John’s Knits.
I turned my attention to Dave. “I want to compliment you on how you’re running things in French’s absence. He’s going to be so proud of you when he gets back.”
“Oh, Maya. Do you
* * *
“Everyone, come gather ’round,” Darla called to the ninety or so ladies in her oversized penthouse suite turned color salon. “I want you all to see something.”
I sat on a salon chair with swatches of different colored fabrics draped over my shoulders and across my neck. Darla had me by the chin whiskers.
“Have a look at Maya here,” she addressed the group in a loud voice. “Maya is an ‘autumn.’ This explains why she always looks so sallow. I’ve always wondered why Maya looks so sallow. Well, this is why!”
A gasp went around the room.
She went on, “An autumn can never wear these colors.” She then rotated all the jewel toned fabrics past my neck and face.
“Further, an autumn can never wear these cool tones because cool tones wash out an autumn completely.” A look of pity played across her face, as she held the cool tones against my cheek.
“Then, to further complicate things for poor Maya, look at this!” She gleamed a wicked smile. “Even though Maya has the standard sallow autumn coloring on her neck, arms and parts of her face, she also has a ruddy hue on her cheeks that can make her look rough, raw and even rather coarse,” she said, puckering her lips in distaste.
I heard soft murmurings around me.
“Ladies, one more thing,” she crowed, “don’t be like poor Maya and wear white, if your teeth have a yellowish cast to them. Never ever wear a shade of white that is brighter than your own teeth.”
With that, she turned to me and smiled her very white smile.
“Thank you for volunteering, Maya. My girls can help you select the earth tones that flatter an autumn complexion with ruddy highlights. Next!”
I thanked her and slipped out of the demo chair.
Pretending to be even-complected, I stood tall and cut through the crowd. Obediently, I headed for Darla’s assistants, who would probably place a burlap sack over my head to cover the yellow-toothed, sallow , nightmare that was me.
Someone in the crowd followed me and grabbed my hand.
“I wonder how you ever dare to leave the house, you poor sallow thang,” Alana drawled, a little twinkle in her sad and puffy eyes.
“Ya got me,” I answered. “I guess I’m just naturally shameless on top of being naturally sallow—and ruddy.” We grinned at each other.
“Don’t mind her,” Alana continued. “She’s a nasty old bitch.”
“Hey, I thought you got her this gig. Isn’t Darla your friend?” I asked.
“Sure she is. But she’s still a nasty old bitch.” Alana winked, turned and walked away.
Chapter 18
Dave Enderly, French’s second-in-command, called me at home.
“Hi, Dave,” I said. “You’re one lucky guy to reach me. I just stopped in for a moment between having my colors done and hosting a ladies’ luncheon at Papa’s Place.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it, Maya.” Dave’s baritone boomed into the phone. “Rick has some of his guys tailing you everywhere you go on property. And I have some of my guys tailing Rick’s guys.”
I laughed. “So, everywhere I go, I trail a long line of ‘gardeners’ and other hotel staff?”
“That’s right!” he said. “You ought to look behind you sometime. It’s like you’re the Pied Piper of Silver Pines.”
That was a funny image, all those guys trailing after me. I laughed and wondered if I should lead them on a merry chase the next time I went somewhere. I could bob and weave through these grounds like a palmetto bug on speed. I knew this place like I knew the new fall collection of St. John’s Knits.
I turned my attention to Dave. “I want to compliment you on how you’re running things in French’s absence. He’s going to be so proud of you when he gets back.”
“Oh, Maya. Do you
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