Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
I pulled some boxes out of my closet and took them across the hall. Inside, I found three mannequin heads and a selection of wigs. There wasn’t a workstation for me in the office, and it took me a little bit of time and ingenuity to move the bedside table from my room. I wasn’t using it in the bedroom anyway.
I set up my foam heads and chose two of the wigs to work on. In the box, I had some styling equipment: comb, scissors, products, clips. I found some old dyes and shook them up. They seemed to be viable, so I put on my gloves and got to work dyeing one of the mannequin wigs.
When I was done, almost three hours had passed, and the wig was a beautiful, natural shade of gold. I snapped my gloves off just as the phone rang.
Picking it up, I discovered it was Macy. “Hello?”
“Hi, Lindsey,” Macy said. “I was wondering if I could come in for some highlights?”
“Sure thing,” I said. I was feeling a little dizzy from the chemical fumes, and I struggled to open the window while holding the phone in one hand. The window frame wouldn’t budge, so I set the phone down on Jason’s desk and pushed with both my hands. It slid up a crack, allowing the cool morning air to seep into my workspace. I picked the phone back up and found Macy talking. “What was that?” I asked.
“I was thinking about going lighter,” she repeated.
“I was just doing some experimenting with two different blondes,” I responded. “I think Honey Ash would work well with your features.”
“How early can I come in?” she asked. “I have a client this afternoon.”
“I’m at home,” I said. “I could meet you at the salon in half an hour.”
“Great. See you then,” Macy said before hanging up.
I shook my head to clear it. Get a grip, Lindsey. Whatever was going on in my head was interfering with my daily activities. I had thought that focusing on the hair coloring would help, but the fogginess followed me wherever I went. I sighed, doing my best to ignore it while I got dressed, ate a quick breakfast, and drove into town.
I unlocked the salon a little early and was setting up my workspace when Macy arrived.
“Hi,” she tiptoed in. “Where’s everyone else?”
“We don’t open till eleven,” I said.
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Macy gasped.
“It’s fine,” I waved a hand to dismiss her concerns. “It’s just a half hour. I open early all the time for regular clients.”
“Okay,” she relented, hanging her purse on the hook beside the mirror. “I just want to look like I got some sun. It’s so hard to do with all those trees.”
I laughed. “Summer’s still a couple months away.”
“I know.” She settled down into my chair. “I’m sure you know now, there’s not a lot of sun in the forest any time of year.”
I circled her neck with the plastic bib and gave her a quick shampoo. I applied the bleach just like I had done on my wig back home, one clump at a time. Halfway through the process, I started feeling dizzy again. I thought it must be the same chemical fumes and tried to distance myself a little from the product. That was hard with the brush in my hair and standing over Macy. I felt sick. Through sheer force of will, I kept my cool until the last highlight was applied. Then I dropped my implements on the counter and raced for the bathroom.
“Are you okay?” Macy called after me, but I didn’t have time to respond.
I pulled my gloves off as I burst through the bathroom door, falling to my knees. It was like high school all over again, puking out my meager breakfast into the toilet, except this time I was sober. My stomach clenched and unclenched, sending tiny sparks of pain and anxiety coursing through my body. Then the moment passed, and I felt better.
I rose on shaky legs and washed my mouth out with water. Looking into the mirror, I saw a woman who was tired but not hideous. There were no bags under my eyes, no puffy lips or swollen glands. I wondered again if it was the chemical smell or if I was coming down with something. Maybe I should call in sick for the rest of the day, I thought. The problem was that I couldn’t sleep either, but at least work kept me occupied.
I cleaned myself up as well as I could and returned to the salon floor. Thankfully, it was still five minutes shy of eleven, and the other part-time girls hadn’t arrived yet. Macy looked up from a magazine as I entered the room. Her eyes were concerned and yet calm.
“Come sit with me,” she said.