I don't own anything.
§§§
Double Take
Here I was, in front of Phoebe's Magic Touch Hair Salon. I was getting split-ends thinking about getting this unwanted hair-cut.
At approximately nine this morning, I landed in a garbage bin.
I had been chasing a skip—260-pound of foul-smelling flesh in sweatpants, and no top in down an alley. He managed to climb onto the top of the garbage bin and crawl over the linked fence to the waste management plant, but I, Stephanie Plum didn't make it. I, who was half his weight and much more fit, or so I believed.
I needed to get to a gym.
But my excuse this time was the slippery garbage can. N-o-t m-y f-a-u-l-t.
I heaved myself onto the closed half-flap of the bin, and slipped, landing right in a pile of who-knows-what.
Baby diapers. Moldy pizza. Hole-y socks. Animal manure.
I didn't want to look further. I let out an 'ugh', and tried to lift my feet out of something adhesive muck, which had better not be super glue.
I heard a squeal that definitely wasn't human and I jumped (or as much as I could), landing deeper in the pit of stench and waste. Plus, the top of the bin closed on me. It had more 'stuff' on it. Someone had the courtesy of not throwing their trash in the bin, and on it instead.
Lazy bum.
§§§
What a day. I was a good girl, waking up at seven this morning to get to work, and this is how I'm acknowledged?
Humpf.
After twenty minutes or so, I was out and as clean as I could get myself. I picked out spaghetti, colorful pills, cookie crumbs out of my hair, and found a condom stuck in my shoelaces.
Ewww. Gross.
I kicked it off with my other foot. That wasn't all though. The worst was yet to come. This part of my body I could not see, but knew it was bad.
Unfortunately, I also had some kind of liquid-y resin-like molasses in my hair. It was sticky, and smelled like some disinfectant stuff that you use to clean toilets and such. My scalp was starting to burn too.
I stormed out of the alley and stomped four blocks to Vinnie's office.
The girls did a double take when they saw me in all my mesmeric glory.
"Girl, what's got you looking like that? What did you attract at the waste management? You're not trying to find a part-time job there, are you?" Lula asked suspiciously.
Connie got up and moved toward me, before taking two big steps back, "Stephanie, is that baby powder in your hair? Or is it powdered sugar? No, not anthrax!"
Her hands were clamped on her mouth, either preventing a shriek or shielding her open mouth from the "anthrax".
I said through gritted teeth, "I hope it's not anthrax. I fell into a garbage can. What should I do?"
"I don't think shampoo and conditioner will help, or any hair product for that matter. Get it cut. I know just the place, and the right person."
Cut? I was not getting it cut.
§§§
Half an hour later, here I was, at the hair salon. The lady at the front desk said, "What's that in your hair?"
So rude. Did she care about my delicate state of mind?
"I'm not sure."
"What are you here for? A cut, trim, bleach, shave?"
I shuttered at the last word.
"Whatever is the best way to get rid of the stench."
"We'll get Jacques."
This Jacques better be a miracle worker, I told myself. This girl needed a miracle.
A bald man dressed in an expensive black suit-and-purple tie exited the backroom and said with a French accent, "You must be Miss Plum, a friend of Miss Lula's?"
"Yep."
"I am Jacques. You called this afternoon about an emergency. I see why now. Don't worry your pretty little head. Jacques will fix it."
Good luck.
He extended his palm, and helped me over to a swivel-y chair.
"Have a seat."
He pushed the pedal up and the chair moved up, so that he was eye-level with the top my head. He examined me intently and said a few 'hmms' before telling me what he planned to do.
"We will straighten your hair; then give you a bob with bangs," clamping his perfectly manicured hands together.
"A bob?"
"Yes. That is the only way. You want to see daylight and men again?"
"Yes." Whatever that meant, as the two nouns had nothing to do with each other.
"Good. Let's get started."
He held my clammy hand, and brought me over to the sink.
"We have to get rid of this stuff as much as possible."
As he let the water run onto my hair, I heard him slap on rubber gloves. Oh great, I'm that despicable?
He massaged my scalp, and then I felt a pull.
"Oww, what are you doing?"
"There's gum."
Oh no. I knew what that meant.
"Miss Plum?" Tug. Tug.
"Yes," I said, my eyes closed tightly waiting for the bad news.
"We're going to half to cut more hair off. The gum isn't coming out."
I remember my mom giving me this speech in elementary school. Stephanie, the gum isn't coming out. We have to shave your head.
"Nooooooooo," I moaned listlessly.
"I'm sorry honey, but it's the way to go."
I needed someone by my side during this ordeal.
Mary Lou?
Too busy.
Joe?
No.
Grandma?
No. Too loud and as much as I loved her, all of Trenton would know my lunch, and I didn't want that.
Mom?
Hell no. She was going to give me hell.
Ranger.
Yes.
As much as he was going to make fun of me, more so that Lula and Connie, he was the only one that could withstand the odor, and understand my pain and suffering.
I picked up my cell-phone and dialed. He picked up on the second ring.
"Yo."
"Yo yourself. Can you come to Phoebe's Magic Touch Hair Salon in the mall? I really need you."
"Be there in ten."
I told Jacques I needed more time, and he understood completely, giving me a pat on my shoulder before moving to another station to work on another customer.
I looked around, seeing all the females with long, luscious hair, or which I soon wouldn't have. Boo-hoo.
Before I knew it, I felt a familiar presence behind me. The hairs on my back stiffened. I swiveled my chair, and looked into the eyes of Mr. Cuban Sex God. Today was no exception. Yum.
Dressed in black, his hair was tied in a ponytail in the back, accentuating his beautiful facial features.
He got straight to the point.
"Hair problems?" He asked nonchalantly. I noticed his mouth twitch at the corners. Trying to stifle a laugh?
At least he was trying.
"Major. I don't know whether to get a shave or keep the smelly hair and wait for the stuff to all fall out, eventually. Plus it's burning like hell."
"Babe."
"I really don't want this."
"What happened?"
"I was out chasing a skip, and I fell into a garbage can." I failed be any more clear than that, and he didn't ask anymore questions. I was embarrassed enough with all the ladies at the salon staring me down.
Ranger brought his hands to mine and held them while he deliberated.
"How 'bout this: I'll get my hair shaved with you."
"Huh?"
"I get a shave too," he repeated.
My eyes widened to the size of golf balls. "SERIOUSLY?"
"Yes."
Now everyone in the salon was staring at us. A round of applause broke out. I big grin invade my pale face.
"Okay," I said with conviction, "I'm ready. Bring out the big guns."
§§§
Jacques brought Ranger over to the swivel-y chair at the next station and said, "Who first."
"Me," I said, raising my hand like a school-girl.
Ten minutes later, I was bald. Well, almost. I still had a thin layer of fuzz.
Meet Miss Lightbulb.
This was the latest trend in Hollywood for guys and girls, right?
Jacques moved over to Ranger and did the same.
When we finished, we looked at each other and the mirrors in front. Wow, was the only word that came out of my mouth.
It was quite a sight.
Fifteen minutes later, we walked out of the salon with big smiles plastered on our faces. Never in a million years would I have thought Ranger would do something this reckless. He was going to get it big time from Tank and the Merry Men.
As we walked to the food-court, I asked him, "What made you do it Ranger?"
"Babe. I'd do anything to make you feel better. It's no big deal."
I couldn't resist and give him a great big bear hug. He was stunned.
"Thank you so much."
He nodded.
"I have one more favor after we get hamburgers or a salad for you. It doesn't involve more than a simple pose."
After promising him something, he promised me that he'd do it.
After lunch, I grabbed his hand and he traveled down the escalator.
We walked into the arcade Go Bananas!, and found a photo-booth.
§§§
That night, as I rubbed my shiny shaved in my bed, I took the pictures out of the envelope and flipped through series of photos.
We did the Charlie's Angel's pose, guns drawn.
Bunny ears.
Monkeys with bloated cheeks, scratching our chests.
Western cowboys.
Angel (Ranger) and devil (me!).
Me sitting on his lap like newlyweds on a honeymoon.
Then, I fell asleep.
§§§
Ranger sat at his desk in his office. He rubbed his temple. He was so tired, but could let sleep invade him. He didn't to finish this case.
He looked over to the small envelope that Stephanie had given him.
He opened the flap and took out the two rows of a dozen pictures.
He looked so love-lost. Anyone could tell that, but him. He gazed into Stephanie's eyes, lust-induced, but also full of affection and respect.
He stared at the honeymoon picture, with Stephanie kissing his cheek. His heart skipped a beat. She had a way of doing that to him.
Ranger got up from the chair. He needed to tell his babe something.
FIN
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