When Callie had told Wynn that she was going to New Orleans for the weekend, he recommended making reservations at a ritzy restaurant known for its weekend jazz brunch. The conversation stemmed from a text asking her out for a date on Saturday. As bummed as she was to not be able to go, she secretly hoped it’d make him miss her.
She and Hanna sat down at their white-linen-topped table, which was sprouting with festive black and gold balloons. “This is cute,” Hanna said, looking around the room. A jazz band trio was going around the restaurant serenading diners with upbeat tunes played on their trumpet, guitar, and bass. “Good choice.”
“Thanks.” Callie looked up from the menu that the waiter had placed in front of her. “A guy I’m kind of seeing told me about it.” She waited for Hanna’s reaction. Her sisters had stopped asking her about her love life since she never shared details anyway. Her excuse had always been that if she talked about someone, she’d end up jinxing it. Of course, that was a lie. The only person she’d ever really been excited about was Garrett.
But maybe it was time to take a different approach. Besides, something about Wynn just made her want to gush.
“No way!” Hanna hit her hands down on the table so hard that the white plates, silverware, and glasses all jumped and made a clashing sound over the music. “Tell me everything.”
Callie felt a blush bloom across her cheeks. “It’s stupid. He’s probably not into me, but whatever.” She was still being cautious, but wanted to allow herself to get excited just this once. “It’s the guy from the news, Wynn Kernstone. He was at the press conference.”
“Shut up!” Hanna’s eyes grew wide. “Tall? Blond hair? Totally ripped? That’s the guy?” She looked as though she couldn’t believe it. Callie could hardly believe it herself.
Callie nodded and bit her lip. “We went out to dinner that night and have been hanging out ever since.”
The waiter interrupted and placed their Bloody Marys on the table. “All right, y’all ready to order?”
Callie couldn’t stop staring at the waiter’s perfectly waxed handlebar mustache. “I’ll have the turtle soup,” she said. Wynn had said it was a must-order. “And the eggs Benedict.”
After Hanna ordered and the waiter walked away, her sister leaned across the table. “Okay, I’m going to need so many more details. Have y’all, you know…?” She winked.
Callie nodded slowly, swallowing hard as she thought about how their date last weekend ended in his bed.
Hanna hissed. “Callie Breaux, get it girl.”
“Okay, but I’m trying not to get too excited.” It was fun being with someone like Wynn, but part of her still felt skeptical about his interest in her. He could have any girl in town, so what did he see in her? Besides her new money, of course. She wasn’t stupid. “He’s a little out of my league.” She left it at that.
“Callie, you’re out of his league,” Hanna insisted. “You’ve got so much going for you. You’re smart, and sweet, and successful.…”
The jazz band appeared next to their table, and while they played a fun rendition of “Mardi Gras Mambo,” Callie thought about her sister’s comment. She really did have a lot going for her. And she wanted Wynn. So bad. The only thing she didn’t have that other girls did was the looks… but she could fix that.
All of a sudden, she realized diners were getting out of their seats and waving their white cloth napkins in the air, following the musicians while they danced in the impromptu parade around the restaurant.
Callie arched one of her thick eyebrows. “This is really happening, huh?”
“Come on!” Hanna grabbed her napkin out of her lap and took her sister by the hand. “Let’s live a little!”
She hesitantly stood and joined Hanna in the line with their fellow diners. As they bopped up and down to the beat, her sister’s words kept playing over and over in her head: “Live a little.” She couldn’t help but feel that maybe it was finally time she did just that.
Hanna had invited her to go shopping after brunch, but Callie had other plans. According to Yelp, the best salon in the city was only a few blocks from their hotel in the French Quarter. Callie’s stomach turned into knots when she opened the door. Salons were supposed to be relaxing.… Why did she feel so nervous?
The scent of lavender hit her nose as she walked into the store, which was decked out in glittery white floors and gilded accents on the walls and mirrors. A woman with a half-shaven head and long hair on one side stood at the front desk. “Can I help you?” She had such a calming voice.
“Hi.” Callie pushed her frizzy hair behind her ears. “Do you have any appointments available right now?” The place looked busy, but there were still empty leather chairs.
“Sure. What is it you’re looking to have done, hon?” the woman said over the buzz of the hair dryers blowing in the background.
“Ummm…” Callie wondered. She didn’t actually have a plan. She had just envisioned walking in and walking back out looking as hot as someone like Vanessa. She didn’t know what she wanted. Hell, she didn’t even know what she needed. She let Lexi cut her hair once a season, but the only thing Callie would let her little sister do was trim the dead ends. The decision came after a very traumatic practice session during high school when Lexi left Callie with a mullet after trying her hand at layering. It put a dent in their relationship at the time, as well as Callie’s self-esteem. Their relationship had mended through the years, although Callie couldn’t say the same about her confidence.
The woman must have seen the panic in her eyes. “Here’s the menu of all the services we offer.” She handed her a heavy beige stock card with a long list of items printed neatly in black script. “Does that help?”
She looked at the list. There were so many options: haircuts, highlights, waxing, manicure, pedicure, makeup application. Where did she even begin? Callie handed the card back to the lady. “One of everything?”
The woman gave her a knowing smile. “Right this way.”
They entered a small room with a raised bed. As Callie lay down on it, she noticed it was covered in a soft white sheet that felt warm, as if it had just come out of the dryer. Tranquil music played softly overhead, and lavender essential oil misted through the air, the scent helping to calm her nerves. She melted into the warm bed. I could get used to this.
A technician tiptoed into the room and greeted her in a quiet voice—she had a foreign accent, maybe Polish.
Callie glanced over to watch her cut strips of paper and mix something in what looked like a mini slow cooker. The woman walked back over and studied her eyebrows for a second. “Hmm… how long has it been?” she whispered.
“I’ve never done this before.” Callie suddenly felt self-conscious.
The woman walked back over to the counter and grabbed a small wooden stick. “I see,” she said quietly, blowing on the wax to cool it down. “Just relax. It’ll be over before you know it.” She smeared the hot wax under Callie’s eyebrow and patted it with a strip.
So far, so good, Callie thought.
Without warning, the woman ripped the strip off Callie’s face sending a spark of pain shooting from her eyes down to her legs.
“Owwww!” Callie screamed, immediately touching her eyebrow to see if her skin was still there. Her eyes began watering from the pain.
“Just relax,” the woman said, smearing more wax around her eyebrows.
With each patch of hair that was ripped from her skin, Callie felt even more pain than the last. Tears began running down her face. Why did women do this to themselves?
“Beauty is pain,” the technician said in an apologetic tone. “Now, time for your bikini.”
The nail station had a wall display with hundreds of bottles of polish in every color imaginable. They were color-coordinated in the order of the rainbow spectrum, with each shelf lit from above with LED strip lights. A row of three leather massage chairs, each with its own white soaking tub at the foot, sat against the wall, and a shiny white desk with leather armchairs on either side was positioned on the other end of the room.
Callie, still smarting from the bikini wax, hobbled over and picked out a ruby red polish, which was named, “Red-y to mingle.” Appropriate.
Beauty is pain kept ringing in her head as the nail technician clipped her cuticles and scrubbed the calluses off her feet.
Next, she was shuffled to the stylist’s chair. An older man with gray coiffed hair stood in front of her for a second, looking intently at the hair on her head. “I feel like you need warm highlights and layers.” She cringed at the word “layers” after what happened with Lexi, but gave him a trusting nod. He grabbed the dry strands around her face and ran them through his fingers. “And a deep conditioner.”
After the highlights were set, she was whisked to the sink, where an assistant massaged her scalp with a shampoo and conditioner that smelled like eucalyptus and bergamot. Lexi never pampered her like this when she cut Callie’s hair. What the hell? Had she been missing out on this magic feeling this whole time?
Back in the chair, Callie watched as the man snipped and chopped inches off her locks. She seized the moment and pulled out her phone.
There was a new message from Wynn: How’s New Orleans?
She smiled, feeling missed. Great! she typed back quickly. We went to your brunch recommendation. Delicious!
A few moments later, he wrote back: Nice. Want another good meal? How about Monday night? ;)
Her stomach whirled. She began to respond, but another text notification appeared.
It was from Garrett: Hey, how’s New Orleans?
She let out a small chuckle.
Good! she typed back. How’s everything over there? It wasn’t unusual for Garrett to text her over the weekend, but she wondered what he wanted.
Three dots appeared in a bubble on her screen as he typed his response. Finally, a message popped up: Good. Just been working on some new ideas for the paper to make it “jazzier.” Ha.
And then another message: Are you free on Monday night? I’ll be off-site all day for a story, but was thinking we could brainstorm some things over dinner to hand in to Jerry for the Tuesday budget meeting.
Callie gripped her phone tightly. Two invitations for dinner on the same night? The old Callie would have been excited about Garrett’s invitation, giddy even. But that was before Wynn. Now Wynn was the one making her giddy. She smiled to herself. For once, work would have to wait.
As the stylist started drying her hair, Callie typed back to Wynn:
Sounds perfect. You’ll be dessert. ;)
She couldn’t wait for Wynn to see her new look. She glanced up at the mirror and saw her hair was now in choppy waves. She felt lighter and bouncier already. All of her dead ends were gone.
It was time to officially get rid of the other ones in her life.
Just as her hair was nearly dry, she checked her phone to see if Wynn had written back.
Instead, there was a new message from Garrett: Ummm…
She looked up at the message above.
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
There, above Garrett’s “ummm,” was her message meant for Wynn. Her cheeks turned bright red as her eyes remained fixed on her words.
You’ll be dessert. ;)
Ugh. She felt like such an idiot. As she fumbled for the right words to text back, Callie’s face felt like it was on fire. She settled on: Sorry wrong person! Also sorry can’t do Monday. Sorry.
She figured if she put enough “sorrys” in there, he’d get the idea.
“Now, for the finishing touches,” the stylist said, turning the chair around to face away from the mirror. He began applying makeup to her face.
Right as he was finishing, Callie looked up at the clock on the wall and noticed she had been in the salon for four and a half hours.
“You ready to see the final look?” His voice was practically beaming with pride.
She nodded her head slowly, excited to see the end result. As he turned the chair around to face the mirror, all of the technicians who had helped her during the day gathered around, giving Callie a celebratory clap.
She hardly recognized the woman staring back at her. Her hair was smooth and shiny. The cut framed her face, making it look longer and leaner. The highlights also made her skin seem brighter and more awake. Her face was flawless and contoured.
She looked beautiful. “Thank you guys so much,” she said, running her meticulously painted fingers through her soft hair.
“You’re stunning,” the stylist said, holding his hands over his heart. “Simply stunning.”
She bit her lip and smiled, looking back in the mirror at herself. She had never felt sexier in her life. Callie couldn’t wait to see Wynn’s reaction.
After she paid at the front counter, the stylist slipped her a piece of paper with a list of all the makeup products he used. “Run, don’t walk, to the nearest Sephora,” he said, giving her a double cheek kiss. “Cinderella can turn back into a pumpkin any moment, hon.”
With the card tucked safely in her bag, Callie walked out of the salon onto the bustling streets of the French Quarter. And for the first time in her life, she felt beautiful.