October 1994
continued
Five hours and dozens of shopping bags later, Darien, kit out in new clothes from head to toe — Levi's, white tee, Nike high-tops and a gorgeous black leather jacket — was strolling languidly out of the mall and back towards the Jeep. Chele had finally decreed they had enough supplies to get Darien through the next few days. Darien had nearly balked when he saw the price of the jacket even as he tried not to drool at the delicate and supple kid leather it was made of. All Chele had done was say "Happy Birthday," and waved for the clerk to ring up the purchases.
She drove several blocks and pulled into a parking lot sporting signs stating "Reserved for the Patrons of Nouveau", the swankiest high-end salon in the city. It cost a hundred bucks to get in the front door and you did not get in without an appointment.
"Michele, what is going on?" his voice was full of suspicion.
She reached out and tugged on a lock of his hair. "Gorgeous as it is, my dear, its in desperate need of an update. Girls are not going to flock to you if your hair looks prettier than theirs."
Darien whimpered. "Not the hair."
Chele snickered. "Jeeze Dare, I get my hair cut more often than you do." Giving him a gentle nudge, which encouraged him to slide out of the vehicle.
"Yeah, well, I don't risk flambéing my hair daily at my job," he countered as he trailed after he towards the entrance.
"That Bunsen burner incident was not my fault," she responded, then paused with a hand on the door. "Look, just let them take a look at it. If nothing else you can just get a trim and some pampering, okay?"
Darien was surprised at the hint of hurt in her tone and wondered what else was going on that she wasn't saying anything about. "Uh, sure. It does need some help, considering what it's suffered through recently."
Instead of responding she simply swung open the door and walked inside, letting him decide whether or not he wanted to follow. He was reluctant to admit the real reason he didn't want to do anything with the hair. Part of it was pride, he really did love his hair long. The rest was out of sheer stubbornness, though there were days he'd been tempted to chop it all off. He'd discovered right quick that his looks combined with the long hair made him an easy target inside and he'd found himself in more than one tight situation during those long months. A slight shiver ran through him and he forced the memories away before they were more than a faint presence on the mental horizon.
They not had gone more than a couple of steps inside when an impeccably dressed and coifed woman came towards them wearing a brilliant smile. "Ah, Miss MacTierney, good to have you back." The woman, whose nametag proudly proclaimed Melinda, took both of Michele's hands into her own and looked her over appraisingly. "Not a business trip this time, I see, and you brought a friend." Melinda fixed her gaze on Darien and gave him the once over. Based on the look in her eyes, she liked what she saw.
"Pure pleasure this time. In fact, the appointment is for my friend here." Chele freed her hands and set one on Darien's arm. "Darien Fawkes."
"Yes, I can see why." Melinda observed, making Darien want to cringe and run away. It was almost enough to make him completely forget his astonishment over the fact that this was apparently not Michele's first visit. "I believe Katrina would be best suited to you, Mr. Fawkes." Then she turned to Chele. "She's very good at gentling the skittish ones." The comment proved she was fully aware of his reluctance to go through with this.
Darien sighed and resigned himself to being fussed over and, most likely, persuaded into having his hair cut.
Almost as if sensing his partial capitulation, Chele leaned in close to him. "Darien, I promise it'll be nothing too drastic. Okay?"
Darien nodded and then they both followed Melinda to Katrina's workstation. Introductions were swift and Darien quickly found himself divested of the new jacket and sitting in the chair with a soft black cloth draped over him.
After about five minutes of examining his hair with voluble mutterings and tskings, Katrina met his reflected eyes in the mirror. "It's a mess, Mr. Fawkes, split ends, dry and very damaged. In truth, I'd recommend cutting it all off and allowing it to grow out again."
Darien's shoulders slumped in dismay; part of him had known this was going to be the verdict and it was now time for him to face the reality. "How short?"
Normally I'd suggest shaving it off and starting fresh, but I can see you are quite attached to the hair. I might be able to salvage the layers closer to the scalp with a deep conditioning treatment." Katrina explained with a bit of a frown.
Chele appeared beside him then. "Darien, do you trust me?"
He turned his head to meet her eyes and he could easily see she was well aware with his dismay at the situation. "Yeah, just not too short, all right?"
She gave him a small smile. "You'll be as gorgeous as ever, I promise. Sides, with the way your hair grows, you can have it back in no time at all."
Darien couldn't deny that; his hair did tend to grow incredibly fast considering how thick it was. But he still only managed a nod in response.
Pulling Katrina aside, they began a rapid-fire discussion with much hand waving and esoteric words that Darien was unsure of the meaning of, as they seemed to be part of that language only women understood. After a couple minutes in the huddle they broke away with Katrina striding purposefully towards her table, where she began pulling open drawers and gathering the necessary tools of her trade. "All right Mr. Fawkes, I am going to cut your hair first and then do the conditioning treatment. We'll make any final adjustments after that."
Chele moved to stand between Darien and his reflection.
"Now what?" he whined, making Chele chuckle softly.
"Just a suggestion; close your eyes." He began to protest, but she silenced him by leaning forward and kissing him lightly. "You know you'll just get all whimpery if you watch. We've got eight months of catching up to do and you've little need for your eyes to do so," she reminded him, one hand snaking beneath the cloth to settle over his.
"Just so long as you agree to burn that hat later," he challenged.
With a snicker she nodded. "You can do it yourself, if you like."
Taking a deep breath Darien forced himself to relax and shut his eyes. They nearly flew open in surprise when she gently kissed each eyelid and then moved to linger over his lips, her fingers tracing lightly over the back of his hand in a way that was damn erotic.
Seconds later she was gone, ghost fingers still tracing across the back of his hand as the sound of snipping commenced. Katrina worked swiftly, spritzing the areas with scented water before combing and cutting.
"Eight months? Long time not to see each other." Katrina commented cheerfully, beginning the seemingly obligatory round of small talk. "What happened, a stay in prison?"
Though obviously intended as a joke, for what would an ex-con be doing in a place as up-scale as this, Darien chose to answer truthfully. "Yep, for B&E."
The scissors stilled their ravaging of his hair. "You're kidding?"
"Nope. Worst case of bad luck I've ever had. Cops responding to a break-in alarm for another apartment caught me on the way out, there's only so much you can do while dangling from the side of a building. The vic didn't identify me in a line up, but they figured out I'd been ... busy elsewhere in the building," Darien deadpanned, wishing he could see the look on Katrina's face. He knew 'Chele would follow his lead and play the woman, even if it was with the truth, for as long as they could manage.
The sharp sound of the scissors returning to their work began again. "Umm, did you not actually steal anything?" Katrina sounded truly curious and only a touch flustered by the revelation.
Darien was careful to contain the chuckle to keep his head from moving too much. "Lets just say the cops didn't find anything on me, so they couldn't nail me for theft."
Katrina paused her snipping to laugh softly. "I'd say you were pretty damn lucky to not get even more time. Your poor hair would have been completely unsalvageable. Whatever they had you using is atrocious."
Darien was almost shocked by the casualness Katrina had responded to his recent incarceration. Then again while Nouveau handled a fair portion of the rich and famous in this town, it was also true that quite a bit of the money made by the local bigwigs was done on the left side of the law. Drug-dealers that styled themselves as new money, corrupt politicians and their wives, government officials on the take. Eight months served on a year sentence for B&E was probably tame by comparison.
"So how did the two of you meet? Jailhouse romance?"
Darien could feel the vast quantities of hair being shorn and sliding down the slick material of the cloth wrapped about him to fall on the floor, later to be swept away and forever lost. He was about to respond to Katrina's humorous question, but 'Chele beat him to it.
"Nah, we've been friends for years." 'Chele stated simply.
Darien felt the scissors slip past his left ear as she continued to slaughter, no matter how necessary, years of growth. "Okay, so you're a thief..."
Darien worked a hand free and raised it in protest of that particular appellation. "I prefer cat-burglar." Which made 'Chele snicker.
"Actually he's got a Master's in Literature. He tutors rich kids in Lit. and Philosophy." Michele elaborated and Darien could hear the pride in her voice.
"This is a first, an educated cat-burglar, you are definitely going in my book." She patted him on the shoulder and then stepped away, her footsteps soft on the tiled floor. "So, out of curiosity, what is it you do?"
Darien assumed the question was directed at 'Chele.
"What are they calling me these days?" 'Chele mused aloud.
"Overworked?" Darien offered up knowing she often worked 70 hours or more in an average week.
"True enough. Last review I was listed as a Retro-viral DNA Specialist." Michele answered, sounding less than impressed by her own title.
Darien could hear the stunned silence from Katrina before she came back over to him and returned to working on his hair. Based on the tone, she'd switched to a finer pair of scissors for whatever she was currently doing.
"And what does a retro ...whatchamacallit do?" Katrina asked.
Darien resisted the urge to respond since he only knew what 'Chele had been doing before he went into prison, she might very well be working on a different project by this point.
"Currently I'm working on a vaccine for melanoma... Skin cancer." Michele clarified.
Darien wasn't the least bit surprised to feel Katrina's hands still and then settle on his shoulders as if in need of support. "I stand corrected, you are both going in my book; a cat-burgling philosopher and a veritable child-genius looking for the cure to cancer. A day for the record books, and I've worked on some major players in this town." A few more quick snips once she had composed herself and then she moved away from him. He could hear drawers opening and closing and he wondering if she was going to return with new weaponry. "All right, Mr. Fawkes, if you'll follow me it's time to pamper that hair of yours."
"Uh, thanks to the feisty redhead there, I can't exactly see." Darien pointed out in a wry tone.
"What? Watching you stumble about with a spontaneous game of 'Hot and Cold' could be amusing. I could take bets as to whether or not you'll make it across the room unscathed." Michele started off sounding dead serious, but broke into snickers by the end.
"'Chele..." Darien warned.
"Come on, you." 'Chele grabbed his hands from beneath it the cloth and encouraged him to stand.
Though sorely tempted to peek, he kept his eyes firmly shut and did his best to concentrate on his other senses. She shifted and set his right hand on one of her shoulders.
"Okay, D, that's my left shoulder, so you won't be stepping on me with those big old feet of yours. Just follow along, 'kay?"
"Got it," Darien responded, knowing he could trust her, even if it she was still upset with him.
"This way," Katrina said, and Darien moved as Michele did.
Darien counted his steps and listened to the snippets of conversation as they wandered past the various workstations in the salon. At 35 steps 'Chele stopped.
"Rotate with me, then back two steps and sit."
Darien did as she directed and found himself in one of the reclining chairs located at the back of the salon where he remembered seeing the bank of sinks. He could hear the water and other attendant noises that went with it.
"Damn, you two have known each other for a while." Katrina pushed against Darien's chest until he was sitting all the way back and then reclined him, making sure his head didn't whack his head on the edge of the sink.
"Yeah, I guess. We've know each other for..." Darien was actually awed at how long it was once he added all the years up. "Wow. Sixteen years."
"A lifetime." Katrina murmured as she started the water and began to wet his hair with it.
"Not even close," 'Chele stated, her voice coming from right beside him, suggesting she was leaning against the sink itself near where Katrina was trying to work a miracle with his hair.
"You two ever ... get involved?" Katrina asked. "You know, as more than friends."
"Us? Nah, he ain't my type."
Darien was more than a little surprised by 'Chele's response since they had damn well been more than just friends on many occasions over the years. In fact he was hoping they were going to be doing a bit of that more tonight. He was trying to think of a way to broach the subject with the audience listening in and without sounding like a fool, when a new voice intruded.
"My dear, what a gorgeous color. What does your stylist call it?"
'Chele chuckled softly. "Nothing fancy, called au naturel."
"Au naturel?" the slightly nasal voice repeated sounding confused. "Doesn't that mean... natural?"
"Yes," Katrina answered as she added something that smelled of coconuts to Darien's scalp. "That's exactly right."
The deafening silence that ensued from the newcomer made it plain she just didn't get it, so Darien spoke up. "That red is 'Chele's natural color. Far as I know she's never dyed it."
"Not once," she confirmed. "Some chlorine and sunshine abuse, but that's about it." Darien could tell she was desperately trying not to laugh.
"Oh," the stranger mumbled in embarrassment. "Any chance I could get a photo? I'd love to try and duplicate the color."
Darien felt 'Chele's hand settle on his shoulder and squeeze gently. "Sure, why not?" She gave him a quick pat and then walked off, leaving him at the mercy of Katrina.
"So, Katrina, did we save any of it?"
"Most assuredly, Mr. Fawkes, and I believe you'll be pleasantly surprised."
Thirty minutes later Darien, back in the original chair after having assorted goop applied to his hair and yet more snipped off, was waiting impatiently for his unveiling. He could hear Katrina and Michele whispering to one another nearby, but it was so soft that he could only pick up one word in five and that was not nearly enough to be sure of what they were saying.
Just by weight alone he knew his hair was far shorter than it been in several years. That one stray lock kept falling across his forehead and tickling him and no matter what Katrina tried it just refused to behave. Eventually 'Chele told Katrina to just leave it be and not to go overboard with the styling, about which Darien heartily agreed. He'd find his own style with the new cut eventually.
Katrina undid the cloth about him and whisked it away. "You're done, Mr. Fawkes."
Timidly Darien opened his eyes and was, as Katrina had earlier suggested, pleasantly surprised. Yes, it was damned short in comparison to when he had walked in here, but not horribly so. The longest layer on top fell to just above his eyes, hanging loose and slightly waved about his face. The rest was much shorter and layered, but still long enough to curl here and there, especially along the back of his neck. He ran his hands through it to get a feel and found the locks soft and silky, a complete turnaround from the coarse texture prison life had caused. Turning his head he looked at 'Chele, whose face was a blank, awaiting his judgment.
"Pseudo surfer dude?"
She shrugged. "If it matters at all, I like it."
Running his hand through it one last time and giving it a good shake before allowing the hair to fall where it may, he got to his feet. "Well, you always had good taste."
Her posture relaxed the tiniest of amounts, something only someone who knew her very well would notice, revealing to him her concern about his potential dislike. Then he turned to Katrina. "Thanks."
"Not a problem, Mr. Fawkes. Just try to stay out of prison. I don't know what they force you to use, but it does horrible things to hair." She smiled and escorted them back to the reception area where she handed Darien a business card. "Please feel free to call me anytime."
Darien watched her walk away before looking over the card and noting Katrina had jotted down her home phone number on the back. Stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans he took his new jacket from 'Chele, who was smiling as she proffered it to him.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing. Ready to go?" She tipped her head slightly and gave him a sweeping look from head to toe.
"Uh, don't I ... we gotta pay?" He knew he sounded more than a little uncomfortable since he knew there was no way he could afford even the low end estimate of the bill for this day's adventure into hairstyling.
"Taken care of," she assured him and backed towards the door, with him reluctantly following along.
It wasn't until they were back at the Jeep that he was able to voice his reason for the slow steps and slouched posture. "'Chele, I don't have any place to go. I figured on a cheap motel for the night. Several nights in fact."
"Don't worry, I know just the place. She waved for him to get inside the vehicle and after a moment of debating asking her to clarify got in without a word. He'd just have to trust she knew what she was doing.
