Repeat - Kylie Scott Page 0,76
find books about elephants. (I tried selling her on my personal favorite, Curious George, but she was adamant in her choice of animal so Babar it was.) “Tessa. What are you doing here?”
Behind the counter, Iris is beaming. “Your friend is here to take you out. Isn’t that lovely?”
It would be rude to say no. Honest, but rude.
“We’re getting your hair fixed and buying you something decent to wear.” The expression on her face leaves no doubt as to her opinion regarding today’s jeans and T-shirt combo. It’s a Jane Eyre quote tee this time. My new favorite book. To be fair, though, the top pick changes at least weekly.
“Do I have any say in this?” I ask, curious. And yes, a little pissy.
Tessa sighs. “Don’t be difficult. Ed and Leif need to get some stuff done and I’m pretty much only here as a favor to them. But let’s face facts, your hair does need fixing. It was kind of cute, but now it’s grown out a bit and it’s not working at all.”
“It has looked better,” says Iris, tipping her head this way and that. “That’s true.”
My hand goes to my head in protest, but I don’t bother to refute them. Beyond a certain point, not even some styling product can fix things.
“I promised I’d be nice.” Tessa crosses her arms. “Who knows, this might even wind up being fun.”
“All right.”
And I didn’t even bother checking with Iris because this has all obviously been planned behind my back. I’m almost used to my life being organized by other people. It’s crazy. The tension of living this way, of waiting for the next attack, is doing what remains of my head in. But I prefer to avoid the weird emotional distance the pills provide unless it’s absolutely necessary.
Out on the street, Tessa doesn’t stride ahead. This time, she sticks to my side, keeping an eye on our surroundings. Like something could happen at any moment. She’s been well coached by the love of my life. Maybe I should be more appreciative of all the care they’re taking. It means I’m loved or at least wanted. People care about me. But the burden of it, the lack of freedom involved, gets me down.
Still, I try to relax. No way anyone would dare attack me when I’m out with Tessa. She wears her elegance like a superpower.
The salon is only a few blocks away. My stylist is a gorgeous Latino lady named Margarita. Like Ed, she has magical fingers. My crappy mood and reservations last about two seconds beneath the scalp massage she delivers during the shampooing and conditioning process. The woman can do with me what she will. I am mush.
In the fancy black chair positioned in front of the mirror, she pats my shoulders. Her eyes go to my fringe. “Clementine, can I just fix this? Will you trust me to do that?”
“I need to be able to cover the scar.”
“Not a problem.”
“Then yes. Please.”
“Thank God for that.” Tessa sighs, slumped in the chair next to me. She makes even that position appear somehow glamorous and elegant. Today she’s in a green floral halter neck dress. Silk, maybe. Even with my concerns regarding patterns, I can see its beauty. Chunky wooden bangles jangle on her arm. Guess she either didn’t work today or got changed before she came and got me. The tattoo parlor seems to be more of a jeans atmosphere.
Funny how people’s tastes change. How Ed went from dating her to me. Though I guess I used to be more like Tessa. More put together.
“What?” she asks, having caught me watching.
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
For a moment she says nothing. “Ed says you need information, that you like asking questions . . . so ask.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Go for it.”
Margarita works on my hair without further comment. The click of her scissors and upbeat background music filling the air.
Huh.
“What now?” she says, meeting my eyes on the mirror with less patience this time.
“Nothing. I guess I just expected another lecture about staying away from Ed.”
“Would it do any good?”
“No.”
“Well then, I won’t bother. Ask away . . .”
“Thank you. Did we used to do things like this together?”
“More like we’d have salon days, go get manicures and things. It was fun.” Her smile is faint, but there. “We’d do a little shopping and have lunch somewhere nice in the city, have a few beers and talk smack about the boys. Sometimes all four of us would go see bands or just