serums?’
‘Nothing,’ says Henry.
‘Hmmm. I should have guessed that. Well, from now on you will be using them. We’ll have you looking like Josh Hartnett in no time.’
‘I rather liked Orlando Broom’s hair,’ says Henry.
‘Bloom,’ I hiss, wondering if he does this deliberately.
Henry is ushered to the sinks to get his hair washed by a sixteen-year-old with an approach to shampooing like a WWE wrestler. After pummelling his head for five minutes she proceeds to give him an ‘Indian head massage’, using slow, rhythmic movements with a semi-pornographic expression on her face.
Henry’s escorted to the mirror and Anton begins his work. It takes half an hour and some of the most flamboyant scissor action I’ve ever seen, but the results are impressive.
It’s short, but not too short. Shiny, but not too shiny. The style, in Anton’s words, is a ‘sexy-messy, just-showered, natural look that shouldn’t take more than ten minutes to achieve’.
Henry is shocked. ‘ How long?’
‘All you have to do,’ says Anton patiently, ‘is avoid combing your hair when you step out of the shower –’
‘I can do that,’ says Henry proudly.
‘– and instead, apply the gel and moderately mess up your hair. You know you’ve got it right if it looks like your lover has run their hands through it.’
Henry flashes me a look. I smile encouragingly.
‘Don’t worry,’ I say confidently. ‘It won’t be long before you’re very familiar with that.’
Chapter 10
Next stop is the optician.
‘I feel a bit funny, looking like this,’ Henry confesses as we walk across the city centre.
‘Good funny, I hope.’
‘I don’t know. I think so. But I feel weird in these clothes. Don’t you think I look weird?’
‘No.’
‘Not even a bit?’
I look up at him. ‘Henry, can I tell you something?’
‘What?’
‘You looked weird before . You don’t look weird now.’
‘Really?’ He stops for a second. ‘I looked that bad?’
I feel a twinge of guilt. The last thing I want is to hurt Henry’s feelings. ‘Not bad exactly.’
‘But weird?’
‘Well . . . yes.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I didn’t think it bothered you.’
‘It didn’t bother me because I never knew.’
I bite my lip. ‘Maybe I should never have started this.’
‘No, no,’ he insists. ‘Lucy, I’m glad this is happening. I’m grateful to you and Erin and Dominique. Slightly terrified of Dominique, I’ll admit, but grateful all the same.’
‘She can be a bit full-on sometimes, can’t she?’ I grin.
‘She’s fine,’ he smiles. ‘Though I wished she’d kept her hands off my trousers in the changing room. I felt molested.’
I giggle and push open the door to the shop.
‘Remind me what’s happening tonight?’ he asks.
‘Dominique, Erin and I will be helping you take your first tentative steps towards being a master of seduction.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘I like the sound of that.’
‘Good. Because we need you to be one hundred per cent on board.’
‘I am.’
‘Good.’
‘One hundred and ten per cent,’ he adds.
‘I hope you’re not teasing,’ I say.
‘Not at all,’ he replies innocently.
‘How about these?’ I hold up some designer glasses similar to the pair sported by a male model on the arty, black and white promotional picture in front of us. In it, he is wearing the specs, a sultry look and the impossibly-toned thighs of a lithe, fresh-faced female model. And not a lot else.
‘If that’s the effect they have, I’ll take three,’ says Henry, trying them on. I scrutinize his face and wait to be bowled over by the transformation. Except it doesn’t happen. The new glasses are undeniably a better model (well, it wouldn’t be difficult) but somehow he doesn’t look right.
‘You don’t look overly impressed, Lucy,’ he notices. ‘In fact, I’ve seen you look more impressed at dogs that have pissed in our front garden.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I
‘Nothing,’ says Henry.
‘Hmmm. I should have guessed that. Well, from now on you will be using them. We’ll have you looking like Josh Hartnett in no time.’
‘I rather liked Orlando Broom’s hair,’ says Henry.
‘Bloom,’ I hiss, wondering if he does this deliberately.
Henry is ushered to the sinks to get his hair washed by a sixteen-year-old with an approach to shampooing like a WWE wrestler. After pummelling his head for five minutes she proceeds to give him an ‘Indian head massage’, using slow, rhythmic movements with a semi-pornographic expression on her face.
Henry’s escorted to the mirror and Anton begins his work. It takes half an hour and some of the most flamboyant scissor action I’ve ever seen, but the results are impressive.
It’s short, but not too short. Shiny, but not too shiny. The style, in Anton’s words, is a ‘sexy-messy, just-showered, natural look that shouldn’t take more than ten minutes to achieve’.
Henry is shocked. ‘ How long?’
‘All you have to do,’ says Anton patiently, ‘is avoid combing your hair when you step out of the shower –’
‘I can do that,’ says Henry proudly.
‘– and instead, apply the gel and moderately mess up your hair. You know you’ve got it right if it looks like your lover has run their hands through it.’
Henry flashes me a look. I smile encouragingly.
‘Don’t worry,’ I say confidently. ‘It won’t be long before you’re very familiar with that.’
Chapter 10
Next stop is the optician.
‘I feel a bit funny, looking like this,’ Henry confesses as we walk across the city centre.
‘Good funny, I hope.’
‘I don’t know. I think so. But I feel weird in these clothes. Don’t you think I look weird?’
‘No.’
‘Not even a bit?’
I look up at him. ‘Henry, can I tell you something?’
‘What?’
‘You looked weird before . You don’t look weird now.’
‘Really?’ He stops for a second. ‘I looked that bad?’
I feel a twinge of guilt. The last thing I want is to hurt Henry’s feelings. ‘Not bad exactly.’
‘But weird?’
‘Well . . . yes.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I didn’t think it bothered you.’
‘It didn’t bother me because I never knew.’
I bite my lip. ‘Maybe I should never have started this.’
‘No, no,’ he insists. ‘Lucy, I’m glad this is happening. I’m grateful to you and Erin and Dominique. Slightly terrified of Dominique, I’ll admit, but grateful all the same.’
‘She can be a bit full-on sometimes, can’t she?’ I grin.
‘She’s fine,’ he smiles. ‘Though I wished she’d kept her hands off my trousers in the changing room. I felt molested.’
I giggle and push open the door to the shop.
‘Remind me what’s happening tonight?’ he asks.
‘Dominique, Erin and I will be helping you take your first tentative steps towards being a master of seduction.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘I like the sound of that.’
‘Good. Because we need you to be one hundred per cent on board.’
‘I am.’
‘Good.’
‘One hundred and ten per cent,’ he adds.
‘I hope you’re not teasing,’ I say.
‘Not at all,’ he replies innocently.
‘How about these?’ I hold up some designer glasses similar to the pair sported by a male model on the arty, black and white promotional picture in front of us. In it, he is wearing the specs, a sultry look and the impossibly-toned thighs of a lithe, fresh-faced female model. And not a lot else.
‘If that’s the effect they have, I’ll take three,’ says Henry, trying them on. I scrutinize his face and wait to be bowled over by the transformation. Except it doesn’t happen. The new glasses are undeniably a better model (well, it wouldn’t be difficult) but somehow he doesn’t look right.
‘You don’t look overly impressed, Lucy,’ he notices. ‘In fact, I’ve seen you look more impressed at dogs that have pissed in our front garden.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I
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