Human Hieroglyphix - Dex & Leila (8 page)

I knew
exactly
what she meant. 

Marianne was the one who had originally held a silver sequined evening bag up to my face and then a gold one to determine if my coloring was 'cool' or 'warm'.  She announced, "Warm!" with authority, although I had no idea what that meant.  But Caitlin and Crystal did.

"I had to call Cait this morning because I couldn't remember what top went with pants and what shoes were the best."

"Well, she did a great job with her instructions, honey.  But, nevertheless, we've got to get you on your fashion feet so you can determine what looks best with what, all on your own.  And wear it with all the confidence I know is inside you." she said softly.

"Thanks, Marianne," I said reaching across the small table and touching her hand.

"Anytime, Leila," she said turning her palm up and squeezing my fingers.

*.*.*.*.*

I stood outside 'Tangles' and ran my eyes over their sign. 

This was another moment I didn't want to forget.  The last time I had my hair trimmed was six months before my divorce.  Three years is a long time to go without at least having your hair trimmed, I told myself. 

And I wasn't just there to have my hair trimmed.

I walked in and the salon was hopping.  There were two women in various stages of hair work, one that even had foil in her hair chatting with the girl behind the reception desk.    And the other had cotton all around her hairline and some kind of stretchy net over what appeared to be curlers but the smell from her head was enough to clear a room.

I waited for my turn and saw that the busy shop only had three of the six stations manned but there wasn't one hair dryer open. 

"Can I help you?" the girl behind the reception desk asked, lightly hitting her chin with a pen that had a blue flower on the end.

"Uhm, I'm Leila and I have an appointment with Frankie," I said trying not to stutter.  But having my hair cut was a much bigger deal to me than the contacts.

"It's Frank-kay, okay?  That's what he likes, that's what we call him.  Frank-kay, got it?"

I nodded, more than a little bit intimidated.

"Hey Frank-kay, your one o'clock is here," the receptionist yelled without looking away from me.  She was identified as D.D. by her name plate that adorned the highest part of her station.

A gorgeous, very tanned man that reminded me of  a Malibu Ken doll but dressed casually in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, came practically running to the plants that separated the reception area from the rest of the shop.

"Just a few more, sweet cheeks, and I'll be ready for you," Frank-kay said, pointing the comb in his hand at me.  He did a quick finger wave and practically ran back to the woman he had been styling.

"Just set yourself down over there and he'll be with you in a minute…ah," she glanced down at her spiral calendar, "Lila."

"It's Leila," I said. "Like the Clapton song?"

"Oh, gotcha." DeeDee said smiling.

"Only I spell my name L-E-I-L-A," I said smiling right back.

"Catchy.  Brings a Hawaiian beat to the Clapton, right?"

"Never thought of it that way," I shrugged still smiling and glancing around the salon.  "Great place.  You do manicures, too?"

"We do it all, Leila.  And if we don't do it, then it can't be done."

"I'd like to get a manicure, too, if they have an opening after, ah, Frank-kay, is done with me."

"Do-able," DeeDee muttered, head down over her spiral calendar.  "And what about an eyebrow wax, because, girlfriend, your brows were on time but you were fifteen minutes late!"

"Perfect," I said laughing.

I couldn't take offense since I had notated that in my Chrysalis book.  This was a place of beauty, which means you come out looking more beautiful than you came in.

Or I sincerely hoped I would.

I swallowed deeply.

"Okay, let me just get Lotti for you since she gives the best brows and she should just be finishing up."  DeeDee's voice dropped to a whisper and I leaned forward over her two-tiered reception desk.  "Plus, she's the
best
when it comes to the wax."

"Lotti!" DeeDee yelled.

"Yeah?" I heard a voice yell back.

"Got another victim for yah," DeeDee yelled as she winked at me.

I again swallowed deeply. 

I didn't think the word 'victim' was conducive to a beauty salon or to calming the salon patrons nerves or was even professional in the least.  But then, maybe that was what DeeDee was winking about, that it was all in good fun.

I was all for good fun. 

As long as it allayed my fears, not
added
to them.

"Send them on back, Dee," I heard the other voice shout.

"Ok, Leila, go up the step and turn left then right and Lotti will meet cha," DeeDee explained.  "When you're done then Frank-kay should be ready for yah, 'kay?"

I did as Dee instructed and was met by a short, laughing Latina with the most beautiful smile and luscious hair I'd ever seen.

"Did you just wink at me?" Lotti asked.

"Pay no attention," I advised.  "New contacts.  Still getting used to them."

"Uh-huh," Lotti mumbled dubiously.  "Let's get you started then, okay?"

I dropped my purse in the corner and sat down in the chair indicated as she rolled a three-tiered shelving unit over to where I was sitting.  Lotti pulled a large standing magnifying glass and pointed it over my face.

"So, what I'm seeing, chica, is that you need eyebrows, upper lip and side-burns done today, okay?" and she turned to this metal pot that had wax dripping down it.

I felt my heartbeat begin to speed up.

"Is this going to take a long time, because I have an appointment with Frankie, err, I mean, Frank-Kay." I asked nervously, even though I wasn't any calmer when I thought about getting my hair styled.

"No, no time at all.  Hey, you weren't kidding about the contacts!"  I lifted my eyes and saw a distorted picture of her from my side of the huge magnifying glass.  I felt that silence was the better part of valor.

"Okay, so sit back and relax and I'll have you outta here in no time, 'kay," I heard Lotti say.

And she was right.  I was out of there in no time.

My upper lip was clear of fuzz as were the clumps of fuzz that had been in front of my ears. 

But it was my eyebrows that reflected the sheer artistry of Lotti's work.  I no longer looked like a Cave girl now that my 'uni-brow' was gone and Lotti's hot wax had given me the kind of eyebrows I saw on other women, the other women that I found myself looking at, admiring. 

I was amazed at how such a small thing, with only the smallest moment of pain, made me look so different.

I stared at myself in the 10x magnification mirror and was completely stunned. 

I reached in my bag and left Lotti a twenty dollar tip which made her eyes widened.

"Is that enough, Lotti?  Sorry, this is my first time at doing this," I hoped I wasn't insulting her.

"No problema, chica," Lotti said, folding the bill and then inserting it into her deep, full cleavage. "I thank you for this, yes?  But next time, either a five or a ten will do, okay?"  And I was astounded that she moved towards me sitting sideways on her reclining chair and gave me a hug. 

"Make an appointment with DeeDee for four weeks, yes?  Since we don't know how fast your hair grows.  Now shoo, Bonita Leila, and let Francisco do his magic on your hair, okay?"

I went back into the waiting area of the salon and sat down.  Glancing at DeeDee's station I saw her looking my way with her mouth open.

"Holy crap!" she announced.  "You're beautiful!"

"Thanks, DeeDee," I mumbled.  "But it was Lotti."

"No, Lotti had something to work with, and she did a great job!" she said with a smile.

I just smiled back.

*.*.*.*.*

"So what do we want to accomplish today?" Frank-Kay asked me as I was finally seated in his chair. 

I had been shampooed, twice, and had sat underneath a hair dryer with some kind of orange goo on my head for a good half-hour before being told I could, at long last, sit on the Throne of Frank-kay, as I was calling it in my head.

I was making a lot of changes at once:  glasses to contacts, wookie to cookie with only the sting of the hot wax application and its removal or the 'you're beautiful' exclamation from DeeDee who was more beautiful that I could hope to be with her light brown hair with its blue highlights.  So I was hopeful that he would perform similar magic on my hair.

But I found myself telling Frank-kay exactly why I was there, about my Chrysalis journal and about Dex.

I even whipped down my jeans and lifted my shirt so he could see the outline of my tattoo.  My beautiful butterfly that meant so much, stood for so much.

Honest to God, I completely unloaded on the guy.

But at the end of my talk, we both were crying and sharing his Kleenex box.

"So, in other words, princess, we need to make you," Frank-kay looked around like he didn't want to be overheard, before leaning down to the level of my ear, "Fuckable."

That's what he'd gotten from my sad tale of woe?

I need to be made 'fuckable'?

Is that even a word?

I know that we didn't 'play' for the same team, but that was far and away the nastiest, dirtiest load of sh-err, manure I'd ever heard.

That is, until Frank got his hands on my hair. 

He, with almost reverence, unrolled the towel that the girl, who introduced herself as 'Snaky' (who am I to judge names?) had spent a good amount of time fastening just so.  Then Frank began to slide his fingers from my scalp all the way down to the ends.

"How short?"  I heard him ask.

"Just below my shoulders?" I asked in turn.

"Done," he murmured still raking his hands from scalp to ends.

"Bangs?" I asked with my eyes closed, head back, enjoying the movements of his fingers.

"Deep, swept to the side," he said softly and I glanced at him in the mirror.  His eyes, too, were closed as if in deep thought.

"Want to do highlights on you as well but not this visit," he continued. "No, not this visit."

"Uhm, okay," I said equally as softly.  "I don't even know what that means."

I watched a huge smile break across his reflected face in the mirror and watched as he leaned down and placed his cheek next to mine.

"You will, my darling, you will," he said talking to the me in his mirror.

"Now, one last question before we start," he said moving from behind me to lean a hip on his station that I saw was covered with all sorts of potions and elixirs and the like, all in the most beautiful containers but with big bold names on them.  "How would you feel, my darling, about donating your hair to 'Locks of Love'?"

At my blank look, he continued.

"It's a charity that takes cut hair and creates wigs for people who have lost their hair."

"Like cancer patients?"

"And those with propecia or other things that causes their hair loss."  Frank said, his eyes dead on mine.

"With pleasure," I said, my heart lifting to think that my conscious choice to make
myself
more attractive would result in another person having something that would help
them
feel better about themselves. 

It was a bit overwhelming. 

And I reached for the tissue box again.

"Then, let's get to it," he said reaching for a comb and his scissors.

After I heard the snips of the scissors stop, I raised my eyes.

"Here's where the tire meets the road," Frank-Kay said.  "Dee, bring me a #2 brush."

"Sure thing, Frank-Kay," and I saw DeeDee scramble to their display of brushes, before the brush appeared through the foliage.

"I'm going to show you exactly how to style your hair with a round brush and the blow-dryer so you can duplicate what I've done on you here with your shorter hair, all right?"

All-right?  I was over the freaking
moon
.

And I was still over the moon when I tipped Frank-Kay and moved to Marilyn the manicurist chair who had my feet soaking before I knew what hit me.

"Great nails," she muttered after holding both my hands spread, palm down, in front of her.  "You pick your nail polish yet?"

At my gentle "no", she wandered over to the display of nail polishes and chose a beautiful soft pink for my hands and a deep fuchsia color for my toes.

Perfect.

I really have to say, I was enjoying the heck out of my day of beauty.

I went back to DeeDee at the receptionist station after tipping Marilyn.

"What's the damage there, Dee?" I asked knowing it was going to be steep--at least, that's the impression I'd gotten from the blogs I'd read online for full make-overs.  She gave me a price that was more on the low end of the scale than those internet numbers had given.