Chapter 8

Francois was one of five hairdressers who worked for Streaks, a midsize hair salon that catered to both men and women.  It was a luxurious salon; with gold gild framed mirrors, shiny black marble floors, black granite counter tops, plush red chairs, and photos of gorgeous men and women showing off stylish haircuts.  Soft music played in the background and beverages were served in either porcelain cups or tall crystal glasses.

While Betty enjoyed a cappuccino, Jessie was shown the way to the washbasin. Jessie loved having her hair washed by a professional.  She loved the way strong fingers vigorously scrubbed her scalp, and  gently massaged in the conditioner leaving her head tingling with freshness when a soft warm towel completed the cleanse. .

“What can I do for you today?” Francois asked, standing behind Jessie’s chair, running a comb through her hair.

“To tell you the truth I don’t know,” Jessie said with a shrug of her shoulders.  “I feel like a change, nothing too drastic, but something that will give me a new look.”

“Why don’t we try something simple yet sophisticated like this one?”  Francois pointed to one of the photos on the wall.

“Bangs?” Jessie said with a voice full of doubt.  “I haven’t worn bangs since high school.”

“Not full bangs,” Francois pointed out.  “Wispy bangs, it would suit you.”

Jessie wasn’t sure, but trusted Francois’ judgment.  She’d been to see him twice in the past year and he had never ill advised her.

“Okay,” she said, “let’s try it.”

“Let's add a few layers?” Francois suggested.  “See how the model’s hair is long but full of body?”

Jessie took another look at the picture.  The model looked gorgeous with her layered hair and bangs, but would it work for her?  Still, she wanted a change and so she had to take a chance. 

“Let’s do it,” she nodded.

Francois got to work.  He combed and snipped, combed and snipped, and Jessie could see the transformation taking place.  With a look of appreciation she turned her head from side to side and a smile slowly formed on her lips.

“You like it now, but wait until its blow dried,” Francois said, noticing her smile.

“Yeah, when you blow dry it, it probably will look amazing,” Jessie agreed, “but will I be able to maintain the style?”

“If you want I’ll show you how,” Francois volunteered, then proceeded to show Jessie where to place the brush and how to use it. 

“Wow,” Jessie sighed when he was done.  “I look…”

“Gorgeous,” Francois finished the statement.

Pleased that she had followed Francois’ advice Jessie got out of the chair and walked to the lounge area where Betty was paging through a fashion magazine.

“Ta-da,” she sang.

“Wow!” Betty gasped. . 

“Do you like it?” Jessie asked, flicking her hair off her shoulders.

“Like it?  I love it!” Betty breathed in admiration.  “You look like a bloody beauty queen.”

Jessie blushed with embarrassment and attempted to shush her friend. People were looking at her.  One of them was, an extremely handsome man.  He smiled and openly stared at her.  She recognized the man as Jack Garrett.  She knew who he was as she often saw his name and picture in the entertainment section of the newspaper. 

The nerve of some people, Jessie thought, but was pleased with the attention all the same.

 “Okay now it’s your turn,” she turned to Betty

“Oh no, I can’t afford his prices,” Betty argued.

“It’s my gift to you,” Jessie insisted.

Half an hour later her friend reappeared.  Her hair washed, fluffy and freshly trimmed. 

While Jessie was paying, Francois suddenly appeared at the counter.  “Would you be interested in having your picture taken?  Your visit would be free of charge.”

Jessie’s pen hovered in midair over her cheque book.  “Excuse me?”

“I said” repeated Francois, “would you be interested in having your picture taken?” Then with a sweep of his arm, “It would go on the wall with the others.  It’s my way of marketing my work.”

Jessie was momentarily speechless.  She had assumed that all the pictures on the walls were of professional models.  Now if she was to believe Francois, they were of ordinary people.  They were beautiful men and women, gorgeous in fact, and he wanted her to be one of them!

“So what’d you think?” Francois said.  “A few pictures at no charge to you and your visit today would be free.”

The money wasn’t important.   She was simply overwhelmed to be asked to be up there with those beauties.  Then again, money was money and she needed every cent.  “Can my friend join me?” Jessie asked, knowing how important it would be to Betty to be included. 

Francois inclined his head.  “I don’t see why not.”

Francois handed her a card.  “Go to this photographer and tell him I sent you.  He’ll know what to do.”

“Do we go now?”

“Whenever suits you.”

“But if we don’t go today our hair won’t look as good anymore as when you styled it,” Jessie reasoned.

Francois disagreed.  “Your hair will always look good.  I gave it a good cut, easy to maintain.  As long as the hair is clean the pictures will look beautiful.”

“You sure you don’t want us to come around for a quick styling?” Jessie asked.

Francois nodded.  “You can if you want, but there’s really no need.  You will do a great job yourself.”

After Jessie and Betty had left, Francois turned to the receptionist of the salon.  “Who’s my next appointment?”

“Jack Garrett,” Candice said.

“Jack Garrett?” Francois breathed with surprise, “The Jack Garrett?  The talent agent?”

Candice nodded.  “Isn’t he just to die for?”

“Keep it quiet,” Francois instructed.  “No need to announce that Jack Garrett is here.  The last thing we want is for people to spontaneously burst into song to impress Mr. Garrett, and that includes you.”

“No need to worry about me,” Candice said under her breath, “I already have a date with him tonight.”

Chapter 7

Behind an immaculate smoked glass counter perched a perfectly groomed young woman on a high stainless steel stool.  She was on the phone making notes in a large book.

“May I help you?” she asked, after replacing the phone.

“I would like an appointment,” Jessie said.

“What for?” the girl asked in a bored tone of voice.

Jessie was momentarily speechless.  What did the girl mean what for?  This was a beauty salon; she was here to learn about make-up.

“What do you wanna have done?” the girl rephrased her question slightly impatient.  “Haircut, facial, manicure, pedicure, waxing?”

“Um, facial,” Jessie said.

The girl looked down on her appointment book.  “When would you like to come?”

Jessie shrugged.  “Next week, tomorrow, now.”

“Now?”  The girl perked up.  “You’re in luck.  I have a cancellation.  You can see Monique in ten minutes.”

Jessie looked at Betty.

“She’ll take it,” Betty quickly grabbed the opportunity.

“What is your name?”

“Jessie Green.”

“Okay Jessie,” the girl waved a perfectly manicured hand towards a set of cream leather chairs, “Have a seat over there and I’ll let Monique know you’re here.”

“Charming little thing, isn’t she?” Betty said with obvious sarcasm.

Jessie rolled her eyes in a gesture that indicated she too thought the girl was an absolute snob.

A short time later a woman in her thirties came into the salon, walked straight up to the glass counter and addressed the receptionist.  Dressed in an expensive looking cream suit and silk blouse the woman was perfectly coifed and made-up.  She had rings sparkling on her fingers and she oozed confidence.  The snobby receptionist seemed to shrink in her chair and when the phone started to ring, she ignored it giving her full attention to this customer.  She listened intently to what the woman had to say, flipped through her appointment book and made some notes.  “Yes Mrs. Gallagher, no Mrs. Gallagher, of course Mrs. Gallagher,” the girl was saying.

“See that! That is the kind of respect I want,” Jessie turned towards Betty.  “I’d like to have that kind of confidence and elegance.  I’d like to walk into a store, any store, and have people treat me with respect.”

Betty nodded.  She understood exactly what Jessie was talking about.   Everyone wanted to be treated respectfully, but all too often this courtesy was reserved for the rich.

“Um, you there,” the receptionist called.

“See what I mean,” Jessie said before turning to the receptionist.  “Yes?”

“You can take a seat at that station over there.  Monique will be with you in a minute.”

Jessie looked at the chair the girl indicated and she froze.  It was in plain view of everybody who walked past, almost in the mall corridor.  Her heart leaped in her throat, surely the makeover wouldn’t take place there!  Jessie would have preferred a private area, something with walls and a door.

“Do you mind if I go for a walk?” Betty said, standing up.  “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Jessie nodded.  She would have like her friend to stay with her, but waiting around would be boring for Betty.

“Jessie?”

Jessie looked up into the smiling face of a slightly overweight, middle aged woman with steel gray hair rolled in a bun at the nape of her neck.  She was wearing a crisp white coat and flat white shoes. 

“I’m Monique.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jessie smiled politely.  Actually she was disappointed.  She had expected someone young and beautiful.  Someone with perfect make-up and perfect hair.  Monique looked like someone’s perfect grandmother.

“Let me have a look at you,” the woman said, gently taking hold of Jessie’s chin and turning her head from side to side.

“Does it have to be here?” Jessie whispered, throwing a nod at the nearby make-up chair.

“It’s where all the make-up is kept,” Monique explained.  “We could go somewhere more private but then I would have to run back and forth for colors and pencils, etc.”

Jessie told her not to worry.  She reluctantly took a seat on the stool and felt like all eyes were on her.  Everyone who passed the beauty salon could see her.  Everyone in the salon could see her.  She felt like she was on display.

Monique on the other hand wasn’t the slightest bit bothered.  She opened a cabinet holding a variety of bottles, pots and tubes and got to work.  She cleansed, she toned and moisturized.  Where it came to selecting a foundation she narrowed her eyes and peered at Jessie’s face intently. 

“Let me have a good look at you,” she said.  “You have flawless skin.  I don’t want to use something too dark because that’s going to look unnatural, but I don’t want to use something too light because that might make you look like a ghost.”

After some deliberation, Monique selected a color called Porcelain.  Using foam she dabbed some on Jessie’s forehead, cheeks, nose and chin. She smoothed the foundation with a damp sponge.  She then stood back, inspected her work and nodded her approval.  Where it came to eye shadow, Monique had no trouble at all deciding on a color.  She chose a smoky brown for the eyelid, to match Jessie’s eyes, and a lighter color towards the eyebrow.  Next she drew a fine line on the lower eyelid and smoothed mascara on the upper and lower lashes. 

If Jessie had any doubts as to how the make-up looked on her, the look on Monique’s face wiped them all away.  The woman was biting her bottom lip and seemed extraordinarily pleased with herself.

Jessie was about to look in the mirror, but Monique stopped her. She reached for a thick, soft cheek brush. She dabbed some peach colored blusher on Jessie’s cheeks and finished her work with a peach colored lipstick.

“There,” she triumphantly stated, “now you can have a look.”

When Jessie looked in the mirror, her eyes grew larger and her lips parted in utter amazement.  She had big warm eyes, high cheekbones, luscious lips and a glowing complexion.  For a moment she thought the mirror was playing a trick on her, but no, it was really her, only better.  Much better. 

“Breath my dear,” Monique patted her on the back.

Only then did Jessie realize that she’d been holding her breath. 

“I look so different,” she whispered. 

“Not used to wearing make-up?”

Silently Jessie shook her head.  “Lipstick and mascara yes, but never anything more.”

“I have a feeling that’s about to change,” Monique commented.

“Would you mind putting a cosmetics kit together for me to take home?” Jessie asked.

Monique was delighted to help, advising Jessie on what colors worked well together and what the difference was between day and evening make-up. 

Jessie nodded her understanding, thanked Monique for her time and slipped off the stool.

While Jessie was paying at the counter, Betty walked in and went straight to the waiting lounge.

“Ready?” Jessie asked.

Betty simply stared in awe. “You look like a different person.” She stuttered.

As they walked through the mall, Betty kept glancing at Jessie.

“You look so different,” she kept saying.

“Good different or bad different?” Jessie queried.

“Good different,” Betty nodded with conviction, “very good different.  If I were a guy, I’d ask you out on a date.”

Jessie was still laughing when she noticed Betty giving her a critical look.  “What?”

“If you really want to change your look, you should go all the way and go for a new hairdo.”

“I’m planning to,” Jessie said, “but for that I’m going to Francois.”

“Francois?”

“I’ve seen him once or twice,” Jessie explained “and he’s wonderful with his hands.”

“Your new boyfriend?”

“No, my hairdresser.”

“Why not go to one of the hairdressers here?”

“Oh no,” Jessie shivered, “I’ve had some horrible experiences with hairdressers.  They all seem to do what they want.  Francois does what I want.  For instance, when I ask him to take an inch off the back, he takes an inch off the back.  Not two inches, not one inch and a half, just what you ask him to do.  He sometimes advises me on a style, but then he leaves the decision up to me, he doesn’t get pushy.”

“That’s good,” Betty nodded in understanding.  “Hairdressers can get a little pushy sometimes.  Maybe I should pay Francois a visit.”

“You won’t regret it,” Jessie smiled, “and girl, he … is … gorgeous!  He’s from Mauritius.  He’s got great hair, a sexy voice, and what a body … oh, he’s just to die for.”

“Sounds like you’ve got the hots for the guy,” Betty commented.

“I do not,” Jessie said with indignation, “I happen to know Francois is married.  So I just look, but nothing more.”

“Except for drooling,” Betty observed.

When Jessie suddenly stopped walking and turned to her friend, Betty knew something was up.  “What?”

“Why don’t you come with me?”

“Me?”

“Yes you.  You can do with a trim too.  If you’re going to wear my new clothes and my new shoes and probably my new make-up, you might want a new hairdo to match.  The treat’s on me.

Betty gave herself a critical look in one of the store windows.  Her hair looked fine, but she wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to improve.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll come with you.”

Chapter 6

“I don’t know about you but I’m bushed,” Betty sighed as they left the shoe store.

“Oh me too,” groaned Jessie.  “I feel absolutely drained.”

Betty’s laughed.  “I’m sure your bank account feels the same way.  What’d you say we go for a cup of coffee? I’ll buy.”

Dividing the packages between them they made their way to the Villa Capri, where they sometimes had breakfast before a shopping expedition or lunch after a shopping spree. Sometimes they just went for a quick cup of coffee and were usually enticed by the desert menu.

But the way to the restaurant was obstructed with all sorts of temptations.  Clothing boutiques, a jewelery store, a card and stationery store, a store of fine porcelain and crystal, and Jessie couldn’t resist looking at everything.  There was no way Jessie could afford the clothes in the boutiques, the jewelery or the porcelain and crystal, but she still liked to stop and look.  It drove Betty crazy.

“Jessie, it’s coffee time,” Betty groaned, “I thought you said you were bushed.”

“No, you said you were bushed,” Jessie turned away from admiring a diamond ring.  “I said I was drained.”

“Well, then show a little compassion and let’s go to the restaurant so we can sit down and have some coffee,” Betty pleaded.

“Alright, alright,” Jessie nodded. 

But her good intentions only lasted until the next boutique, where she just had to admire a jacket.  She didn’t go inside, Jessie limited herself to just window shopping, but it still made Betty impatient.

“Jessie, coffee!” she demanded again.  “I want … correction, I need a cup of coffee and I need it now!”

“Okay,” Jessie agreed, and without any more interruptions they made their way to restaurant.

At Villa Capri a waitress handed them two menus, but Jessie waved them away.  “Two coffee’s please,” she ordered, “and two pieces of cheesecake.  And oh,” she added, “could you hurry please, my friend is having withdrawal symptoms”

The waitress, who recognized Jessie and Betty as regular customers, nodded her understanding with a smile.  People could easily go for hours without bread, fruit or sugar, but let nobody take away their caffeine.

Awaiting their order, Jessie and Betty surveyed the restaurant.  It was shortly after one o’clock and the place was packed.  The mall had three restaurants, but this was by far the most popular.  Jessie guessed it had something to do with the Mediterranean atmosphere.  The dusty blue painted brick walls decorated with bright colored clay plates complimented with elaborate flower arrangements that spilled from huge planters, and the rustic tables and chairs.  The fast, friendly service and excellent food probably had something to do with the popularity too.  Soft music and a buzz of friendly conversation and laughter filled the air.

When the waitress returned with their order, Jessie and Betty wasted no time.  They simultaneously added two packets of sugar to their coffee along with one tub of cream and then took that all important first sip.

“Aaah,” Betty sighed with satisfaction, “there’s just nothing like a good cup of coffee.”

Jessie nodded her agreement.  “The cheesecake isn’t bad either.”

For a few seconds they sat in silence, enjoying their coffee and cake. 

“So are you finished shopping?” Betty asked.

When Jessie shook her head, Betty rolled her eyes.  “Where are you going to drag me now?”

“The drugstore,” Jessie said.  “I would like to look at some make-up.”

“But you never wear make-up,” Betty protested.  “Not even when we go to a club.”

“I know.  But this is the reinvented me,” Jessie pointed out, “and now that I have cute outfits, I’d like to fix my face.”

“But you look nice,” said Betty.  “You don’t need all that stuff.”

“Betty,” Jessie said slightly sharper than she had intended.  “I’m twenty-two years old, and my make-up consists of a pink lipstick and brown mascara.  I think I’m ready for a bit more.”

Betty nodded.  She didn’t agree with her friend, but she could understand her.  “Alright then,” she said, “If you want to do this, you should do it the proper way.”

“And the proper way is?”

“Certainly not a drugstore,” Betty said.  “Go to a beauty salon, let one of the consultants take a look at you, and advise you on the right products and colors.  Or even better … ask for a makeover.”

“A makeover.” 

Jessie liked that idea.  She’d seen people in magazines who had the before and after treatment, and they always came out looking beautiful.  She would be able to see what colors worked for her and how to apply them.  “Let’s go,” she said, already sliding out the booth.

Betty made a grab for her arm.  “Don’t you think we should ask for the bill and pay first?”

“Of course, of course,” Jessie reached for her wallet and put twenty dollars on the table.

“Twenty dollars for two cups of coffee and two pieces of cake?” Betty questioned.

“Not enough?”

“Far too much if you ask me.”

“Oh what the hell, I’m in a generous mood,” Jessie dismissed the issue.

She was so excited about the makeover, but when she arrived at the salon she suddenly got a severe case of cold feet.  She took one look at the brightly lit room, with its mirrors and bottles, and perfectly groomed ladies in white coats, and knew she didn’t belong there.

“Go on then,” Betty gave her a gentle push.  “Go in and make an appointment.”

But Jessie stood rooted to the spot.  “I can’t,” she whispered.

Betty didn’t understand.  First her friend had been all excited about the beauty salon and now that they were here she wouldn’t go through the door?  “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t do this,” Jessie said.

“Why not?”

“Because … because…”

“Because what?”

“Because … they’re going to take one look at me and laugh behind my back.  Let’s just go.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Betty admonished.  “Why would they laugh at you?”

“Because I’m ugly.”

“No you’re not.”

“I am,” Jessie persisted. 

“No you’re not.”

“Okay, maybe not downright ugly, but I’m certainly not pretty.  Look at me, my hair is out of control and my clothes are shabby and my shoes…”

“Okay, okay, I get the picture,” Betty nodded.  “So you’re not exactly looking your best today, but your clothes and shoes don’t matter, they’re gonna take care of your face and hair.  And you are beautiful.  When you came out of that change room wearing the new outfits you were a knock-out.”

“Really?”

“Would I lie to you?  Now come on, go make the appointment.”

Jessie looked at her friend in desperation.  She dearly wished she had Betty’s classic good looks.  Betty had a perfect heart shaped face, big blue eyes, a dainty nose and rosebud mouth.  She looked every bit like a Scandinavian beauty queen.  Not to mention her straight, smooth silver blond hair that fell like a silken sheet to the small of her back.

“Move it,” Betty urged.

“Alright, alright,” Jessie sighed.  “But you have to come with me.”

Like a lamb being led to the slaughter, Jessie approached the beauty salon.

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