My God, she actually talks in these silly platitudes. Natalie knows it’s an act though and if she rattles her cage she’ll see the real Lena, the Lena who jumped her and tried to punch her in the face.
“What’s the reason you’re here?” Natalie asks.
“It’s just as I said earlier. I want to help you. I know you think I’m a bad person, but I’m not. I’m sure if we got to know each other better we might be friends. We even have things in common,” she motions around, “since we’re both small business owners.”
“I don’t want to be friends with you. You stole my husband.”
Lena smirks and slowly shakes her head. “Don’t be so naïve. Do you honestly think a man like Peter was going to stay faithful to someone like you forever? If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else. At least I’m a decent person.”
“Someone like me?”
Lena looks at her from head to toe. “Let’s be frank. Peter is a handsome and successful man, and you’re, well . . . I wouldn’t say you’re ugly, but you’re kind of plain. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. We all have to be ourselves in this life.”
Natalie’s head snaps back as if she’s taken a blow. So Lena is getting her punch in, after all.
“I’m just trying to be honest,” Lena continues. “Don’t worry, you’ll meet another man someday, someone who’s more . . . on your level.”
“On my . . . level?”
“Yes.” Lena nods.
“I’d like you to leave now,” Natalie says through gritted teeth. “This conversation is over.”
Lena leans forward, her thick blonde hair framing her face like a lion’s mane. “You’ll be happy again someday. Believe it or not, Peter and I want the best for you.”
Natalie is shaking. “Get out.”
Natalie is still upset when the weekend arrives and it’s time for her hair appointment. Blair picks her and Lindsay up in Isadora. It’s just the three of them, since Chloe is going to Peter’s this weekend. Natalie doesn’t tell anyone about her conversation with Lena. It’s too humiliating. And the worst part is, what Lena said was true—Peter has always been better looking than her. She knew he was out of her league when she married him.
“I thought I was just getting my hair trimmed. Why is my salon appointment three hours long?” Natalie adjusts her Lord of the Rings hoodie. Lindsay didn’t want her to wear it today, but Natalie insisted on being comfortable. “And what exactly is ‘The Works’?”
“A little of this and a little of that,” Lindsay says enigmatically.
“That’s not much of an answer.”
Blair looks over at Natalie. “Don’t worry. They won’t do anything without your permission.”
“Is that supposed to comfort me?”
They park the car in a garage and walk a block through the crowded shopping area in downtown Seattle. It’s early December, so the streets are busy with people getting ready for the holidays.
“I wish you hadn’t worn that hideous sweatshirt,” Lindsay gripes. “And thank God we’re going shopping. Those pants are practically falling off you. You look like an ass-less wonder.”
Natalie lets out a laugh. “In my dreams I look like an ass-less wonder.”
“Then your dreams have come true.”
They enter the salon and the front desk hands Natalie a robe and directs her to a dressing room. She hasn’t been to a salon in years. Nervous energy spirals through her.
Lindsay and Blair wait with her for the stylist, chatting about some of the stores they plan to go to while she’s having her hair done.
“We’ll put clothes on hold and you can come and try them on when you’re done here,” Lindsay tells her.
Finally, Natalie finds herself sitting in a chair in front of Marcus, Lindsay’s hairdresser. A group of people are gathered around her, examining her hair and consulting each other like scientists discussing a new lab specimen.
She can’t get that horrible conversation with Lena out of her mind. The way she arrogantly swung that blonde mane around, calling Natalie plain. Plain. She hates that word. It’s plagued her all her life.
“I want my hair blonde,” she suddenly announces to everyone. “Very blonde.”
They all stare at her.
“Really?” Lindsay asks. “Are you sure? That’s a drastic change.”
Natalie nods. “Yes, and I don’t want to cut it short. I want to keep it long.”
No one is going to call me plain ever again.
Marcus seems to be thinking it over. He studies her, pulling her hair back from her face and then letting it fall forward again. He smiles and nods. “I think I can work with that.”
In a clipped voice, Marcus starts ordering people around. Natalie bites her lip. I hope I haven’t made a huge mistake.
Someone brings her a cup of tea and a stack of magazines. She thumbs though them and pretends everything is normal as she watches Marcus paint strands of her hair with colored goop and wrap them in foil.
“What is that stuff?”
“Mostly bleach.”
Bleach! Natalie tries not to show her panic. She’s never lightened her hair before. Her only experience with color was the orange henna incident in high school. And this is clearly more radical than that.
While she’s under the dryer, a manicurist comes over and does her nails. Then another person plucks and smears more goop onto her eyebrows. When Natalie asks what’s happening, Marcus explains they’re shaping and lightening them to go with her hair.
“Don’t worry. When I’m finished, you’ll barely recognize yourself.”
Natalie squeaks.
At one point, Lindsay and Blair come back to check on her.
“We’re finding a lot of great sales. Is there anything in particular you want us to put aside for you?” Lindsay asks.
“I don’t know. Nothing too wild.”
“Okay, no leather bustier.”
“Wait.” Natalie grabs her arms before she leaves. “I want colors.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to wear more colors. I’m sick of all the black.”
Lindsay raises an eyebrow. “Finally out of mourning, are we?”
Later, while her hair is being blown dry, Lindsay and Blair return from shopping. Marcus has Natalie facing away from the mirror and even though she wants to turn and look, she’s too nervous. Instead, she hopes she’ll be able to gauge the results from the reaction of the two of them.
“Oh, my God!” Lindsay shrieks when she sees her.
“Wow!” Blair’s mouth falls open as she stares at her in shock.
“What?” Natalie’s adrenaline skyrockets. “Do I look that bad?” She turns in a panic, straining to see herself in the mirror.
“Be still,” Marcus commands. “I’m almost done. You can wait a few more minutes.”
“No, it’s okay.” Lindsay smiles now. “It doesn’t look bad at all. You look amazing.”
“I do?”
Blair nods. “Totally gorgeous! I barely recognize you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You know what I mean. It’s a big change.”
Finally, Natalie decides she can’t stand it anymore and forces the chair around. For a moment, she’s disoriented. Her eyes widen as she takes in her own reflection.
I’m blonde.
Very blonde.
And it’s . . . stunning. It’s true what Blair said.
“My God,” Natalie murmurs. “I can’t believe it. I really do look like a different person.”
She swings her hair down. It’s long and shiny, falling over her shoulder in a shimmery cascade just like Lena’s. Holy shit. Leaning closer to the mirror, she sees her eyebrows are lighter and have been nicely shaped. The makeup artist did a wonderful job. Natalie told her how she seldom wore makeup and the amount is subtle, but effective. They also told her about some makeup that could withstand the heat of the kitchen.
“Face it,” Marcus says with a smile. “You�
��re a hottie now. Sizzle!”
“Thank you,” she tells him, dumbfounded. “It’s fantastic. Truly.”
After paying, she follows Lindsay and Blair outside. They walk down the street toward some of the department stores, but Natalie keeps stopping to stare at her reflection in every passing window. There’s a sense of freedom pulsing through her. Though she’s worried, too, worried she’s going to go into shock later. She doesn’t do well with big changes.
“You look really pretty,” Blair tells her, coming up to stand beside her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with makeup on. It brings out your features.”
Lindsay grabs her arm. “Come on, my beautiful sister, now we need to get you into some decent clothes. No more black and no more pants so baggy and ugly that they look like garbage bags.”
Natalie knows she should be insulted, but she’s in too much of a daze about her hair and makeup. “My clothes do not look like garbage bags,” she finally says.
Once in the dressing room, she realizes Lindsay is telling the truth. Her new hair is shining a light on everything. Between her huge Lord of the Rings hoodie and her baggy pants, she’s drowning in her own clothes.
How could I not have noticed this?
“Here you go.” Lindsay knocks on the dressing room door. She hands Natalie a few more items to add to the pile she already has in front of her.
When she sees the sizes Lindsay has brought, she balks and tries to hand them back. “Size ten? That’s way too small. I’ll never fit into those jeans.”
“Just try them on, okay?”
“Fine.” She takes them, thinking this is a waste of time. To her astonishment, she zips them right up.
Natalie stares down in disbelief. They fit perfectly. Turning to the side, she’s amazed when she sees her own rear view.
I remember that ass.
It’s been a long time since she’s seen it, and she’s certainly never seen it encased in a pair of modern-cut jeans before.
She tries on the rest of the clothes Lindsay and Blair have picked out. Some of them don’t work at all. Tight leather pants? Pencil skirts? I don’t think so. But most of them do. There are skirts, sweaters, and more jeans. And the colors are like a rainbow—emerald greens and vibrant purples.
In the end, she decides to buy everything—even the black leather pants and pencil skirts—and puts it all on credit, figuring what the heck. She hasn’t gone clothes shopping in years.
“I can’t wait to see you in these clothes,” Lindsay says. “You are going to look so hot. You’ll be turning heads left and right.”
“Oh, speaking of hot, that reminds me, Graham gave me Anthony’s cell number.” Blair pulls her phone out and brings up the number, handing it over to Natalie.
“Did you tell him why I wanted it?” She copies the number into her own phone.
“Yes, and I’ve never seen Graham laugh so hard.”
“He thought it was funny I called Anthony an asshole?”
“He thought it was funny any woman would call Anthony an asshole. Apparently, that’s not the kind of endearment Anthony’s used to.”
NATALIE STARES AT Anthony’s number on her phone. Why on earth did I think calling him would be a good idea?
She’s sitting on the bed after putting away all her new clothes. Lindsay is downstairs starting dinner. At Lindsay’s urging, she’s wearing new jeans with a low-cut cornflower blue sweater. Every time she passes a mirror, she has to stop and stare at herself. Having never been a vain person, Natalie can’t remember the last time she felt good about her appearance, and is hovering between elation and panic.
She runs a hand over her long blonde hair and resists the urge to pull it back into her usual ponytail.
It’s Saturday night, she thinks, staring at her phone. Anthony is probably out somewhere with a beautiful woman at his side.
Oh, grow a pair already.
She hits call and starts rehearsing her apology speech. His phone is ringing.
“Hello?”
It’s him. Yikes! Shit! Her mind goes blank. She can’t even remember why she’s calling. All she can focus on is his sexy sounding hello. It’s just right. Deep enough to be manly, but not deep enough to be creepy.
“Hello?” he repeats.
There’s silence when he hangs up.
The Professor isn’t very patient, is he? How does he know there isn’t a pathetic overworked baker on other the end, trying to get her nerve up to speak?
Natalie takes a few calming breathes. I can do this.
And this time when his phone rings and he answers with that super-hot “Hello,” she’s ready.
“Hi, this is Natalie from La Dolce Vita.”
There’s a long moment of silence.
“I feel really bad about what happened between us,” she goes on. “I wanted to call and apologize.”
“Natalie?”
He sounds distracted, as if he doesn’t want talk to her. Which isn’t that hard to imagine, considering she called him an asshole right to his face.
“Yes, it’s Natalie.”
“How did you get this number?”
Natalie hesitates. “Graham gave it to me.”
The phone is silent and Natalie decides to keep talking. “I just wanted you to know how terrible I feel about what happened. I never should have said what I did to you.”
“Listen, I’m kind of busy right now.”
“Oh, okay.”
The phone is silent in her hand and it takes her a moment to realize he isn’t on the line anymore.
He hung up again!
Natalie puts her phone down on the nightstand and stares at it, frowning. And then she picks it up. Hits redial.
“What now?” he growls.
“Look, I’m trying to apologize. Or maybe you don’t get it.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“The only reason I’ve been forced to call and interrupt whatever important thing it is you’re doing on a Saturday night is that you’ve been avoiding me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You haven’t come into the bakery, and it’s obvious why. I wouldn’t want to go someplace where someone called me an asshole, either. At the same time though, it’s very annoying because you aren’t giving me a chance to apologize!”
The phone is silent.
“You’re crazy,” he finally says.
“I know it seems that way, but I’m not normally like this. I have a daughter. I’m a successful business owner. There are extenuating circumstances in my life right now.” Natalie knows she’s babbling.
“Look, I haven’t been avoiding you or your bakery. I’m in Hawaii.”
“What?”
“I’ve been here for ten days.”
“So . . . you’re on vacation?” Natalie groans inwardly.
“No, I’m at the Keck Observatory on Mauna Kea.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a telescope observatory. That’s what I do. I’m an astronomer.”
“So you’re looking through a telescope right now?”
“No. Right now I’m in bed sleeping.” He sighs with irritation. “Or trying to.”
“I see, so you’re in bed sleeping and that’s why you’re busy?” She tries to give a light-hearted laugh, though it sounds more like she’s coughing. Her stomach is filled with a swarm of butterflies.
“Yeah, I’m going to be awake again all night and could use some shut-eye.”
Natalie wonders if it’s possible to still salvage this. “I’m sitting in bed right now, too, though obviously I’m not sleeping, but I do keep baker’s hours.”
Anthony doesn’t reply.
Natalie glances down at her new clothes and an odd boldness comes over her. “So, what are you wearing?” Instantly, she’s mortified at her dumb attempt at flirtation. The bleach must have gone to my brain! “Oh, my God! I can’t believe I said that. Erase it from your mind.” She sucks in her breath. “Though you probably can’t because y
ou have a photographic memory!”
“Damn, you really do sound crazy.” Though she senses humor behind his words.
She sighs. “I know. You probably want me to let you go, huh?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Can you at least tell me where we are on the bakery expansion? Have you considered the numbers I gave you yet?”
“It’s only—”
“I mean, I hope you were able to memorize them like you—”
“Stop, just stop talking,” Anthony tells her. “Jesus, are you always like this?”
“Always like what?”
“Pushy.”
“No, of course not.” She pauses. “Well, maybe.”
“That figures.”
“I’m actually a very boring person. All I do is work. Though I did start a boxing class recently.”
“Boxing?” Anthony starts to laugh. “Seriously?”
“Is that funny?”
“Yeah, kind of. Actually, boxing sounds right up your alley.”
“It does?”
“I’ll bet you’re good at throwing a punch.”
She wonders whether she should correct him. Obviously, she hasn’t been boxing very long and has no idea what’s she’s doing. In the end, Natalie decides she likes his impression of her as a tough girl. “Hey, that’s the way I roll. I’m a badass.”
Anthony laughs some more. “Good to know.” He pauses for a second. “Were you serious when you said you were into Star Wars?”
Natalie sighs. “I know that sounds pathetic. I’m not that into it or anything. I do have a life.”
“That’s all right. I’m into Star Wars, too.”
“You are?” And then Natalie remembers his phone’s ringtone.
“Yeah, what’s your favorite Star Wars movie?”
“Empire Strikes Back.”
“Good choice.”
She opens her mouth to ask him what his favorite movie is, but doesn’t get a chance.
“All right,” Anthony says. “It’s probably the sleep deprivation talking, but I’m going to consider accepting your apology.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I could tell it was heartfelt.”
Natalie laughs. “You’re just saying that. I was actually angry when I called you again.”
Year of Living Blonde (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 1) Page 12
