48

Priscilla

Mother gives me a good-bye hug on my way out the door. I have to hurry to catch a plane to New York. I’m coming out with a new Ms. Prissy Big Hair line with some additional products in the fall, so this is the perfect opportunity—at least for business.

As I drive to the airport, I reflect on what has happened over the past week. All my friends whose lives were way more messed up than mine have found their grooves, and here I am, wishing I could have a piece of what they have. I want to be in love and know that someone will always be there for me. I want someone to share my thoughts with at the end of the day. I want a man who will look at me first thing in the morning and not mention the fact that one side of my face is smashed with wrinkles from my pillowcase and that my hair is lopsided. I want a man I can laugh and cry with. And I don’t want just anyone. I want Tim.

My flight is uneventful, so my thoughts go back to what I’m missing in life by getting everything I’ve worked for. The irony of success is that it’s the price we sometimes have to pay that can lead to failure in every other aspect of life. And I’m paying that price.

Beth Fay’s flight arrived an hour before mine, but she said she’d wait for me at baggage claim. And she’s right there, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, checking her watch, and looking around. When she spots me, she smiles and waves.

“An hour seems like forever,” she says. “Let’s get to the hotel so we can have some dinner and go over your itinerary.”

Even though Beth Fay drives me a bit batty when she travels with me, she handles enough of the minute details that I can kick back and simply do my job. And I know better than to even try to share a room with her. At first she balked when I said to book two rooms, but when I reminded her she’d have her own bathroom, she said she thought that would be an excellent idea.

“I hope you don’t mind staying at the Marriott this time.” Beth Fay looks at me and waits for a response. When I just shrug, she continues. “I called the Waldorf, and all they had vacant were their two smallest rooms, which won’t be big enough for all our stuff.”

That would’ve been okay with me, but I know how persnickety Beth Fay can be. “The Marriott’s fine.”

She breaks into a smile. “I love the Marriott. It’s so close to the theaters.”

“Beth Fay, we’re not going to have time to go to the theater. This is all work for me, and I want to get back to Jackson as soon as possible.”

She raises her eyebrows and pulls her chin in. “My, my, my. You sure are testy today. What happened to you?”

I let out a sigh. “Sorry, Beth Fay. It’s been a long week.”

After staring at me for several very uncomfortable seconds, she turns away and looks out the cab window. I’m happy for the silence, and not at all disappointed that she doesn’t strike up another conversation until we arrive at the Marriott.

We check into our rooms and get situated before dinner. Then it takes us the better part of the night to go over all the things I need to talk about on air.

“Don’t forget to mention that the volumizing system not only adds body to a woman’s hair, it moisturizes it.” Beth Fay jots some notes down on my card. “Last time you left that out, and I just happen to know that most women associate a lot of body with dry, fly-away hair.”

“Is that so?” I look at her in disbelief. Until I came along, Beth Fay had no experience in the hair business, and now look at her.

She tilts her head. “Well, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.”

“Oh, and I hope you remembered to bring a solid-color top. That print blouse you wore last time didn’t do a thing for you.”

“I remembered.” I’m glad I’ll be alone in my room in just a few minutes. I stand up and start stacking papers. “I’m exhausted, so I think it’s time to wrap this up for the night. We can pick up anything we left off in the morning.”

“I’ll call you at six sharp.”

“Fine.” I walk her to the door and close it the second she’s out of my room. It takes me about ten minutes to get ready for bed and turn off the light. And then it takes me more than an hour to stop thinking about all the mistakes I’ve made with Tim before I’m able to fall asleep.

We eat a light breakfast at the hotel before getting a cab to the TVNS studios. Felicity meets us and takes us to a room to get ready. She smiles at Beth Fay. “We were only able to get two hair models on such short notice, so how would you like to be one of the models today?”

Beth Fay’s reaction is no surprise, but it is rather startling. She bolts out of her chair, pumping her fist, shouting, “I’ve finally made the big time!”

Felicity fights a giggle as she turns to me. “Looks like the answer is yes.”

One of the producers comes to the door and motions for Felicity to go see about something, leaving me with my assistant who is currently floating several inches above the floor. “Can you believe this? I’m actually gonna be on TV. And I owe it all to you, Priscilla. If you hadn’t hired me, I’d never be—”

Felicity returns. “C’mon, let’s go get the two of you into makeup.”

After Beth Fay goes off with her stylist, Felicity whispers, “I hope you don’t mind that I asked her, but you did say you’d like to see how she does on air.”

“I think this is perfect. After she calms down, I think she’ll be just fine.”

“So tell me about Tim.”

I lean toward her. “What are you talking about, Felicity?”

“How do you feel about him?”

“Where did that come from?”

She shrugs and glances away. “I don’t know. I just wondered after our talk and the picture and all . . .”

“Pictures can lie, you know.”

Felicity turns back to me and lifts an eyebrow. “Can they really?”

It’s time to take our places on the studio set. Beth Fay listens attentively as the producer gives her instructions, and the assistant attaches my microphone. The second we’re live, Beth Fay’s expression freezes, and I can’t allow myself to look at her at first or risk cracking up with laughter at her fear. I can tell Felicity is dealing with the same thing.

“So let’s go over all the benefits of the Ms. Prissy Big Hair system,” Felicity tells our viewing audience. “The shampoo and conditioner are designed to work synergistically to add body and texture, while leaving your hair hydrated and silky soft.” She turns to me.

“That’s right,” I add. “And now we use this special volumizing comb to lift the hair—”

“Excuse me, but we have a call from someone with a question.” Felicity smiles into the camera. “Good morning, Eve from Tennessee. Have you ever used the Ms. Prissy Big Hair before?”

“Oh yes, and I’ve been tellin’ all my friends how fabulous it is. All the other big hair products make your hair crunchy and stiff, but Prissy’s products leave my hair so soft and feminine feelin’. My boyfriend told me just the other day he not only loves the way my hair looks but how it feels and smells.”

“That’s wonderful, Eve. So what’s your question?”

She asks if the products work for all hair types, and I assure her they do. Satisfied, she hangs up, and we take our next call. Everyone who has tried the products loves them, and those who haven’t tried them are excited.

“We have another call, this one from a man.” Felicity picks up a volumizing comb and starts fidgeting with it, avoiding eye contact with me. “Good morning, Tim from Mississippi.”

My mouth immediately goes dry. Tim from Mississippi? Then I let out a nervous laugh. It has to be a coincidence.

And then Tim speaks. “Hi, there, Felicity. I’m calling with a testimonial and a question for Priscilla.”

Felicity holds up a finger letting me know something is going on. “Let’s hear your testimonial first.”

“My Aunt Tammy’s sittin’ right here, and she said to let your customers know the Ms. Prissy Big Hair system works just fine on processed hair. Can I ask Priscilla my question now?”

Felicity turns to me and nods. My face is now so hot I can only imagine how red it must be. I clear my throat. “What can I help you with, Tim?”

“You can start by agreeing to become my wife.”

I glance around the studio and see the producers and camera crew laughing and nudging each other, letting me know they’re in on whatever sick joke is being played. My body feels as though someone has turned it inside out. I want to run, but we’re live on air, so I can’t do much of anything.

“Tim, we’re talking about the Ms. Prissy Big Hair.”

“Yeah, I know you are, but I’m talkin’ about us. Priscilla, I love you with all my heart, and I want to marry you. All I’m askin’ for is an answer. Will you please make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

I open my mouth, but nothing will come out. Felicity gives the producer the sign to cut to the B-roll. We made the film clip about how my conditioner goes deep into the hair shaft and hydrates it, making it bouncy and soft. And that’s exactly how my insides feel at the moment.

The producer walks over shaking his head. “The phones are ringing off the hook. Your fans want to know your answer. Is it yes or no?”

I take a sip of water one of the production assistants brings and nod. “Okay, I’m ready to go back on air.”

Felicity narrows her eyes. “Are you sure?”

Beth Fay is sitting stone-still, watching me. I smile at her, and her lips quiver into a slight grin.

“Positive.”

As soon as the cameras are rolling again, I take a deep breath and smile into the camera. “Tim, I think this is something we should discuss privately, but for now, the answer will have to be”—I pause until everyone in the room looks like they’re ready to pounce on me—“maybe. Call me later after the show, okay?” Before anyone else has a chance to speak . . .or even breathe, I pick up the can of volumizing hairspray. “And ladies, for those of you who experience limp locks by mid-afternoon, this spray will perk your hair right up.” I spray some into my own hair and scrunch it between my fingers. “See? My once sad, lifeless hair is happy again.”

The sound of Tim chuckling in my earpiece makes me smile. Felicity grins, gives me the thumbs-up, and starts sharing her own testimonial about the Ms. Prissy Big Hair system, giving me a moment to regroup.

The entire mood of the show has changed, but I’m fine with that. Instead of callers asking about my product, they ask questions about my relationship with Tim. I answer as noncommittally as I can, and when I get stumped, Felicity helps me out. She’s a pro and a very good friend.

We sell out in record time, so my show ends early. As soon as my microphone is removed, Felicity lets out a breath. “All I can say is wow.”

I laugh. “Yeah, me too.”

After I’m off air, I head straight to the coffee shop at the corner. My cell phone rings, and I see that it’s Tim. With a smile and a shaky hand, I answer.

“Hey, I hope you’re not ticked about what I did.”

“No, Tim. In fact I’m very happy.”

“You are?” His voice catches, so he clears his throat. “I mean, that’s good.”

“Yes, it’s very good.”

An awkward silence falls between us, and we both start to speak. We laugh.

“You go first,” he says.

I suck in a breath and close my eyes as I blow it out. “Okay, how soon can you be in New York?”

“That’s what I was about to say. Aunt Tammy didn’t waste no time—I mean any time—booking me a flight, so I should be there by suppertime. How about me and you—or you and me—gettin’ together?”

“Absolutely.”

“Put on your prettiest dress ’cause I’m takin’ you someplace special.”

As soon as we hang up, I head back to my hotel to rest and start getting ready for the big date. I have more than half a day, but I want to look my best for Tim.

The afternoon drags, but when Tim finally calls from the lobby letting me know he’s here, I lose all sense of time. I grab my clutch and go to the elevator. All the way down, I feel as though everyone is looking at me, but I don’t really care. The only thing that matters to me at the moment is what is about to happen with Tim.

We reach the lobby, and the elevator doors open. As the other people step off, they make a path for me, which is strange. Then I see what’s happening. Tim is standing about ten feet from the elevator, down on one knee, with a ring box in his hand.

“Priscilla Slater, will you make me the happiest man in the whole entire world and . . .” He looks me in the eye and winks. “And—”

Without waiting for him to finish, I close the distance between us, wrap my arms around him, and say, “Absolutely, yes!”

He slips the ring on my finger, and that’s when I realize how much I’m shaking. But he seems calm, which relaxes me.

Everyone applauds before scattering. Tim offers me his hand, and I take it. “Sorry it took me so long,” I say.

“That’s okay. This was all worth waiting for.” He gestures toward the door. “Let’s go eat. I’m starvin’.”

I laugh. “Just like a man.”

“Yup. I reckon there’s somethin’ to that sayin’ that we’re all alike.”

“Trust me, Tim, you are totally different from any other man I’ve ever met.” I squeeze him. “And that’s what I love about you.”