Dazzled (5 page)

Two hours?! What the fuck were they going to do to me for two whole hours?

Earl started to get out of the car and I realized he was about to open the door for me. Hurriedly, I flung the door open and almost fell onto the street. I saw him cough and I knew he was trying not to laugh. I’d be laughing if I were him; but I was me, and my mouth was dry with terror.

Earl watched as I walked slowly toward the salon’s entrance. Was this how prisoners felt, walking to their execution?

A scarily blonde woman of about fifty was sitting at the reception desk, dressed in a navy blue uniform. If she hadn’t been so full of Botox, her eyebrows would have gone through the roof as she glanced up and saw me. She gathered her wits more quickly than I did.

“How may I help you this morning, sir?”

“Er… Rhonda… er Miss Weitz… er… she booked me…I’m…”

“Mr. Stephens?”

I nodded, suddenly mute.

“Ms Weitz’s assistant called ahead. My name is Casey. If you’ll follow me, Mr. Stephens, our Executive Colorist, Sonia, will be with you shortly.”

Color? Oh yeah. They didn’t like the auburn. Neither did I, much, but I had just planned on letting it grow out or shaving it off.

She directed me to a plush, leather bench seat.

Another woman in the same navy uniform approached me. She was thin, with bony shoulders, skinny tits, and shiny dark brown hair.

“Hi there, I’m Sonia. How are you today, Mr. Stephens?”

Before I could reply she was running her fingers through my hair with a critical eye. She shook her head. People seemed to do that a lot around me.

“Well, I’m going to have to strip out this color first, Mr. Stephens, before I can put the blond in.”

“Blond?”

“Yes. That’s the instruction Ms Weitz has given. Between light blond and gold blond.” She hesitated for the first time. “I understand it’s for a film role?”

“Er, yes, I guess. Okay, then.”

She smiled. “Right! I’ll go mix the colors. Can we offer you a beverage? We have a range of herbal teas…”

I noticed she dropped the ‘h’ on herbal. It sounded foreign, very sexy.

“…or skinny latte, decaffeinated Americano, mineral water – still and sparkling, freshly squeezed pomegranate juice…”

Bloody hell. It was all so healthy. It made me want to ask for a double cheeseburger, fries and enough caffeine to stun a bull elephant. I settled for water.

I was so pathetic.

Ninety minutes later, I’d been dyed, manicured, shaved and had my eyebrows threaded
and
waxed. God knows how women put up with having their legs waxed. It was uncomfortable, painful even. My eyelids were pink and I looked kind of startled. I had an American girlfriend once who’d had a Brazilian: it was… interesting. My mind drifted, wondering why women would want to have their pubes ripped out using hot wax… even though the result was… an experience. Sensual, but a bit weird; I mean, she was a grown woman, after all. But this was America and things were very different… as I was learning.

The manicure was okay and my nails were clean, even, and very shiny. And I’d definitely have that wet shave again – the hot towels felt amazing.

I was hustled to the sink for the hair dye – or was it bleach – to be washed out by Paulo. Yet another navy-uniformed staff member. Paulo was short, über-trendy and ultra gay. From my peripheral vision I could see him running his eyes over my scruffy clothes. For once, I felt irritated rather than intimidated. I didn’t say anything – the guy was only doing his job. Sort of. Instead my irritation was aimed at Rhonda. I knew I wasn’t being fair. But I was royally pissed off.

Paulo yakked away but I didn’t have to do much more than mumble ‘yes’ or ‘no’ at intervals.

Then I was wheeled over to Raquel, the stylist. I looked in the mirror and blinked, shocked.

Jesus!
My hair hadn’t
been that fair since I was about five years old. It looked… odd.

“Oh! That is such a
fun
color on you!” said Raquel, beaming.

I grunted. I couldn’t see what was fun about it – I looked gayer than Paulo.

I closed my eyes and let her get on with it. I had no idea what she was going to do and I was past caring. I thought I was having an out-of-body experience and I still felt jet-lagged.

Thirty minutes later I was done. At last. I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. I’d got used to the auburn. My hair was short at the back and sides and spiky on top. She’d used a ton of hair gel.

I wanted to slink out the door but to my utter horror, all the staff gathered around and applauded.

“Oh, he looks so cute!” gushed Paulo, and kissed me on both cheeks. Sonia looked like she was about to cry. Happy tears, I hoped.

Was I supposed to make a speech?

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“Have fun tonight!” said Raquel.

“Come back and see us soon,” called Paulo.

I bolted for the door. Earl was waiting. His expression was carefully blank but I could tell he was amused. I climbed into the car wearily. I could see he was studying me in the mirror.

“How you doin’, son?”

“Wishing I’d stuck to playing sax, Earl.”

He nodded solemnly. “Ain’t it the case.”

Next stop was a large department store. I was directed up to the personal shopping reception to ‘await Bradley’s assistance’.

I was expecting another version of Paulo, but Bradley was a guy in his late fifties. Definitely gay but with a quiet, professional air.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stephens. How are you today?”

That was one of the strange things I’d noticed about Americans: in one way they were much more relaxed about stuff than we were, but in another, so much more formal.

“Yeah, good, I think. Thanks.”

It was a lie. I felt like shit, despite the primping and preening at the salon.

Bradley raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.

“So, I understand from Ms Weitz that you’ll be requiring a suit and accouterments for an event dinner tonight?”

Accouterments? What the fuck were they?

“Yeah, that’s what she told me, too.”

I tried to keep the censure out of my voice; after all, everything Rhonda was doing was for my benefit. I was just feeling a bit like a puppet – someone pulled a string and I danced to their tune. It was uncomfortable.

“If I may take your measurements, I’ll bring some suits and shirts for you to try.”

Bradley did his thing with the tape measure and left me brooding over a glass of sparkling water and orange juice. I could have had champagne, but my head was already fuzzy enough. I still hadn’t eaten anything – I was seriously starving.

He arrived back with half a dozen suits in a variety of colors including – bloody hell – burgundy. He had to be kidding!

“Any preference as to color, Mr. Stephens?”

“My name’s Miles.”

He hesitated then smiled more naturally. “Miles.”

“Well, er… black… or gray…”

“Classic colors.”

“I guess.”

He handed me the first choice: a suit in charcoal gray, a simple white shirt and pewter tie. It seemed fine to me but Bradley insisted I try everything he’d brought over.

An hour later I emerged, suited and booted. Bradley beamed at me.

“Your driver is outside with Ms Weitz, sir – Miles. Have a good evening.”

Showtime.

Rhonda’s eyes narrowed as she ran her razor gaze up and down me. I’d seen the same expression on one of the raptors in
Jurassic Park
. But she nodded. I’d passed the test.

“You clean up good, Miles,” she said, somewhat grudgingly. “Now, try to keep your feet out of your mouth this evening. In fact, try not to talk at all.”

“I’m not that bad, Rhonda!” I bleated.

“Miles, just don’t fuck up.”

Her voice was more than a warning – she was friggin’ scary.

The car stopped at an expensive-looking hotel, complete with palm trees and liveried doorman.

“This is where we pick up Lilia and then you both change to the limo,” said Rhonda, daring me to argue. “We want the studio bosses to see how good you kids look together.”

It was the first time anyone had mentioned that Lilia was going to be there. Or that there was going to be a limo. I should have been excited but I reminded myself it was just another part of the audition – not a date.

Rhonda escorted me into the hotel, greeting the doorman by name.

“Wait,” she barked at me, pointing at a low chair next to a potted plant.

Yeah, I can sit up and beg, too! Christ!

She was gone for what seemed an interminable length of time. I caught myself chewing on a nail out of boredom.
So much for the manicure
.

“Hi there!”

I looked up, and a beautiful woman with short, sleek red hair was smiling down at me.

“Great to see you again!”

I gaped at her. “Er…”

“Didn’t we meet at CJ’s party? He throws the best parties!”

I stood up awkwardly. “Er, sorry, no. I don’t think so.”

“Oh, you’re British! I just love British accents! They’re so sexy! I’m Sabena, by the way.”

She held out a hand with long, square nails that look like they could hook out an eyeball from ten yards.

“Miles. Er, pleased to meet you.”

“Well, Miles, my date hasn’t shown so it looks like I’ve been stood up. Do you want to buy me a drink?”

God, she was gorgeous!

“I’d love to, but…”

“Great! I’ll have a Cosmopolitan.”

“Miles! What the fuck are you doing?”

Rhonda was bearing down on me – it wasn’t a pretty sight. Automatically, I took a step back.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were with your
grand
mother!” said Sabena, rather waspishly. “You really should have said you were working – time is money, you know.”

I watched, bemused, as she strolled away, flashing an almost indecent amount of thigh. My dick woke up.

Down boy.

Rhonda stared at me, her arms folded. “Would you like to explain what’s going on, Miles?”

Suddenly, I didn’t have a problem with a trouser tent.

Reluctantly, I turned my gaze from Sabena’s mesmerizing legs and blinked guiltily. “Search me, Rhonda. I have no fucking clue what’s going on.”

I ran my hands through my hair in exasperation and was relieved to see her smile.

“Well, Miles, she was a hooker.”

Uh oh. Hadn’t expected that.

“But… but she was beautiful!”

Rhonda sighed. “They wouldn’t let her into a classy joint like this looking like a streetwalker, now would they? And by the way, when I arrived, she thought you were my rent boy.”

What the fuck?!

She smirked at me.
Bitch.

I was distracted as a soft crescendo of voices rippled across the lobby: Lilia had made her entrance. She glided across the floor, stunning in a floor length, emerald green gown, and as she passed whispers followed her like a breeze through a reed bed.

“Hello again,” she said, softly.

“Er, hi.”

Rhonda trod on my foot hard. I took that to mean that she wanted me to say something else. I just didn’t know what. Or, maybe…?

“You look nice,” I stuttered, trying to smile at Lilia.

I heard Rhonda’s groan beside me.

“You look stunning, Lilia, as always.” Rhonda filled in the gaps of my dismal
Hollywood etiquette.

“Why, thank you, Rhonda. Always lovely to see you.”

They air-kissed while I tugged at my collar.

“Yeah, you look great, Lilia. Very… green.”

Very green? Oh crap!

Lilia raised her eyebrows and seemed to be trying to rein in a smile. Rhonda’s mouth snapped shut so hard I thought she’d break a tooth. Or a tusk.