CHAPTER 14

Dee Dee Townsend sat alone in her office early Friday morning. She was at her computer reviewing last week’s income. She smoothed the hair at the nape of her neck, a habit she’d picked up after cutting her hair. She felt tired just thinking about the long day ahead of her. Her workload had tripled since Sheila’s forced departure. Dee Dee was desperate for a replacement, but needed someone who came with experience.

These past five years have been really hard.

First, there were all the problems that came with the relocating to their salon’s site, a beautiful, 35,000-square-foot beauty oasis in the prestigious Galleria area. She employed forty stylists, twelve barbers, twenty-five shampoo technicians, fifteen nail technicians, six massage therapists, and eight facialists. And that was not counting all the employees who ran the café, the in-house daycare, and the gym. Problems arose every second, but with Sheila by her side, Dee Dee was able to concentrate on bigger issues. With her gone, she was feeling overwhelmed.

Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would go this far.

I wish Mama was still alive.

Dee Dee smiled, remembering when she was ten years old how she loved to run to her mother’s salon, that was affectionately named after her, to help her. The smell of sulfur and hairspray made her stomach churn with excitement; she knew she was in a place where she belonged. Her mother would smile and give her a broom and Dee Dee would sweep any stray hair on the floor. When her mother was in a really good mood, she would let her towel dry the client’s wet hair, taking extra care not to get anyone’s shirt wet. Sometimes she would get a tip and would go next door to Mr. Bailey’s corner store and buy a cherry popsicle and eat it on the steps, licking it fast so the hot sun wouldn’t melt it. Dee Dee longed for those simple days again.

Her mother had died when she was nineteen years old. Her father hadn’t shown up for the funeral; she mistakenly thought that he would show his face after all those years. All she had ever known was her mother, and she didn’t know if she could go on without her. She remembered sitting in her mother’s salon, crying at the thought of never seeing her again. She had worked beside her mother forever, how could she step inside her salon and not hear her laugh, or her witty comments to her clients? Dee Dee looked around the salon and saw all the work that her mother needed to do to renovate the place. She had never gotten around to it, complaining she didn’t have enough money. The checkerboard black and white linoleum floor was worn and cracked, the styling stations were nothing more than wood planks drilled into the walls.

Her death could mean something. Her death could breathe new life into this place. Her death could resurrect this salon.

When she received her mother’s life insurance check she knew she was doing the right thing when she gutted the entire salon, bringing everything up-to-date. Gone were the rickety old styling stations and worn black leather chairs that held more grey duct tape than leather; they were replaced with supple leather hydraulic chairs that spun with the flick of a wrist. She had updated the linoleum floors but kept the same checkerboard design. She thought long and hard about it but finally decided to change the name from Dee Dee’s Hair Salon to Behave Hair Salon. It seemed more fitting, and more of a tribute to her mother, considering all the times that she had to sit down and behave herself in her mothers’ salon.

She must have done something right in those old days because all six hairstylists stayed on after her mother died. In fact, those six tripled within a year, until she had to double the salon’s square footage and decided to also add a spa. Every year her business continued to grow; new services would be added to meet the demands of current trends, which meant new stylists and staff to meet those demands. One day, Dee Dee realized that she’d taken the salon further than she, or her mother, ever imagined.

She looked at Michael’s picture on her desk. He was smiling, his eyes squinting from the sun. She had bought a smaller frame after she cut her husband out of the picture. She had cut Jonathan out of almost all her pictures. It was his fault. All of this mess was his fault—

“Come in,” she said, responding to a knock on the door.

Dee Dee watched Maxwell walk to her desk.

“The two young ladies are waiting for you in the hall.”

“They’re both early. That’s a good sign. So what do you think about of our two candidates?”

“I think both of them would do well…”

“But?”

“But I really like Yolanda’s spunk. She seems like she’ll really put forth a lot of effort to get the job done. I think you should show extra attention to her.”

It was not like Maxwell to give any employee extra attention just for having spunk, especially without noting any other qualifications. Dee Dee looked down at Yolanda’s file. “Tell Beverly to send Yolanda in.”

* * *

Yolanda could barely walk straight. Her knees kept knocking and she kept taking deep breaths to calm herself down. Everything is fine. You’re real close, just don’t mess anything up.

She was surprised to learn that Maxwell had interviewed eight stylists and only Yolanda and another stylist named Denise had made it to the second interview. The two waited patiently, neither sure if it was better to be called first or second. By the time Yolanda had decided second was better, she was following Beverly down the hall to Dee Dee’s office. As Beverly knocked on the door she took another deep breath and said a quick prayer.

“Come in,” a soft voice said.

Dee looked up and smiled when Yolanda walked in. Her office was cool and serene—like Dee Dee. With its pale green walls, spotless white furniture, and marine blue and silver accents, it reminded Yolanda of an expensive beachside retreat.

“Have a seat, Yolanda,” she said, gesturing to a seat in front of her desk. “Thank you, Beverly.”

Yolanda sat down.

“So how are you feeling this morning, Yolanda?”

“Well—”

“Excuse me, Dee Dee,” Beverly said over the intercom, “you have a call on line three.”

“Thanks, Beverly. Hold on just a minute,” Dee Dee said, giving Yolanda a small apologetic smile.

Yolanda nodded and looked around Dee Dee’s enormous office, trying to block out her phone conversation.

Some people have it all.

Her office was beautiful, yet lacked any of the personal touches that she expected. Besides a picture of a teenage boy on her desk, nothing else gave an inkling into Dee Dee’s personality. Yolanda felt she worked hard to keep a distance from her employees. It was working, because Yolanda felt awkward and out of place. Dee Dee’s skin was unlined and smooth as glass. How old was she? Forty? Forty-five? Dee Dee laughed suddenly, low and throaty. Even her laugh is sophisticated.

She looked down at Dee Dee’s desk and studied the intricate details of the aqua green marble top. Yolanda ran her hand over the top of it, feeling its cold hardness, and knowing she would never have anything in common with this woman.

“It’s from Greece,” Dee Dee said, noticing Yolanda openly admiring her desk. “My husband got it for me when we went there a couple of years ago.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. Sorry about the interruption.”

“No problem.”

“So you’re interested in being one of our assistant managers?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m not that old,” Dee Dee said. “Please call me Dee Dee.”

“Okay,” Yolanda said, feeling the tension in her neck slowly easing.

“Maxwell really recommends you highly.”

“Really?”

“Yes, we were quite impressed,” Dee Dee said, looking through a brown file.

We? Does that mean Maxwell was impressed, too?

“When asked, ‘Why should you be assistant manager?’ you said simply, ‘Because Behave needs me.’ Would you care to elaborate?”

Yolanda’s heart raced as she tried to remember what Natalie had told her right before the meeting: “If you pretend something long enough, soon it’ll come true.”

Yolanda pretended she had confidence.

“I think of this salon as a body. Separately, every body part plays an important role in making them all work well together. Without one part, the body can’t function well. I’m that missing part,” Yolanda said.

Dee Dee sat back and looked at her reflectively.

Yolanda looked back.

“I think I’ve found my new assistant manager,” Dee Dee said.

* * *

“And this is your office,” Maxwell said, holding the door open for Yolanda. She walked in.

“Dee Dee said you could change the wall colors to your liking, and can buy new stuff later…”

Yolanda wasn’t listening. She was caught up in a dream. It wasn’t the biggest room; in fact, it was quite the opposite, but it was hers, all hers. She looked at the dark cherry office furniture, the large window with a wide window seat overflowing with big fluffy white pillows flanked with dark cherry bookshelves. She walked over to the window, looked down at her view of the parking lot, and bounced up and down like a schoolgirl on her window seat. She was about to jump on top of the cushions a la Tom Cruise but stopped herself and stood up next to Maxwell.

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Maxwell asked.

“No,” Yolanda whispered. She cleared her throat and looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

“Have you ever wanted something so badly, and you work hard for it, thinking it will never come? And then one day it’s in your face and you’re like, I can’t believe I just made my wish come true?”

He smiled.

Embarrassed, Yolanda looked down, knowing she had shared too much.

“I think that it’s wonderful you made a dream come true. You’re entitled to be proud of that accomplishment. Own it,” he said.

Yolanda looked up, and they locked eyes.

“Knock, knock,” a female voice said from the doorway. Maxwell quickly dropped his gaze to the floor.

Did we just have a moment? Or am I just crazy?

“Was I interrupting something?”

“Not at all, Jackie,” Maxwell said, “come on in.”

Jackie Townsend walked over to Yolanda and grabbed both her hands.

“My mother just told me the news of your promotion. Congratulations!”

“Yolanda, you know Dee Dee’s daughter, Jackie. She made technical instructor a couple of years ago. I’m sure you’ve seen her around the salon,” Maxwell said.

“Yes, of course,” Yolanda said, smiling weakly.

She had seen Jackie around the salon hundreds of times, and even though Jackie was always extremely kind and polite, her friendliness somehow made Yolanda uncomfortable.

Jackie was the spitting image of her mother. Same short crop of dark hair, same heart-shaped face with delicate features. They were both tall and curvy and wore expensive designer clothes. After that, the similarities stopped. Dee Dee was cool, sometimes even cold, and very reserved. Her face had a hardness to it, like a soldier going to war. Jackie was overly friendly and sociable, her eyes usually beaming brightly.

“I just wanted to come in and say hello before our meeting Saturday. You must be really excited, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m really anxious to get started.”

“I know! I remember my first day like it was yesterday. I was sooo nervous! Well, anyway I’m on my way to teach a class, but let’s exchange numbers later on, okay?”

“Sure. No problem.”

“All right then, see you guys later,” Jackie said, leaving in a whir of sunshine and smiles.

“She seems nice,” Yolanda said.

“She is.”

“Is she always that cheerful?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Maxwell said, laughing. “Well, I guess you’ve just about met everyone. You remember Theresa McArthur, right?”

How could I forget? I remember when she clowned me in the salon cafe.

“Now, ladies, that is what I call a sunken chest!”

It was the oldest joke in the book, but for some reason it got everybody laughing.

I can’t stand her.

“Yeah. Where is she?”

“She’s out of town right now, but she’ll be back for Saturday’s staff meeting.” The salon was closed on Monday, so Dee Dee held the weekly staff meeting on Saturday mornings.

Yolanda nodded and looked around her office.

“Where does that door over there lead?” she asked, pointing to a door in the corner.

“Oh, I almost forgot. That door leads to my office; our offices are connected. Dee Dee thinks managers and assistant managers should work hand in hand, so in a lot of ways you’re my right-hand man.”

“Woman,” Yolanda corrected.

“What?”

“I’m your right-hand woman.”

“Yeah, okay…Right-hand woman. Anyway, I’m usually in my office or walking around the salon, so call me if you need me. We’re all connected with these earpieces,” Maxwell said, pointing to his left ear. “Everyone on staff has a code, so you just dial the code on your keypad. It’s all attached to your waistband. You’ll receive yours tomorrow. Now come into my office. There are some things I need to brief you on—your duties, what’s expected of you, things like that.”

This day just keeps getting better and better. Yolanda beamed as she followed Maxwell into his office.