Rose chuckles. "Even more basic than that. You need to do these things first in order to move forward. Without them, you’ll go under."
Daniel sits two seats down from me, pen in position on top of paper, ready to write.
"You need to be a stylist with outstanding hygiene and grooming." Rose's monotone delivery isn’t making for an exciting start.
Mitzi groans. "That's it? Kind of a no-brainer if you ask me."
"You would think, Miss Davis. But I gained new clients because their previous beauticians had bad breath. One male cosmetologist had body odor. Once while I was on vacation, I scheduled a color appointment. The young lady they assigned to me had dirt under her nails. These things are unacceptable." Mrs. Yung scans her audience before continuing. "Let's open your text book to the introduction where we cover these things in detail."
Over the next hour I scribble notes on getting decent sleep and exercise. Eating properly. Staying clean.
Rose walks to the door. "Okay, now on to grooming. Follow me. I have some models downstairs that we're going to examine for their professional appearance."
We shuffle down the staircase and find four people waiting for us in the lobby. Brandi and Les are two of them.
"Okay. You know our executive assistant and lead instructor. The man on the left is my husband, Geoff. On the extreme right is my daughter, Kayla. Daniel, pair up with Carla and tell me the most professional appearance, and be ready to explain why. Sandy, you do the same with Mitzi. Claire, you can partner with our newest student, Ella. Don't be afraid to get close to the models. You have two minutes."
Daniel nods and steps forward, facing me. "So, where do you want to start?"
I look to the left. "How about Mr. Yung? We can go left to right."
We walk in unison to a man with khakis and a white business shirt. The pants have a hole. A small one, but they are the first thing I notice. "I don't think he should wear that for cosmetology. A white business shirt would get hair and color on it after a long day."
My partner gestures a thumbs-up. "There's the hole in the pants. I think that’s as unprofessional as the sweat pants you wore to orientation."
Wait. What? They weren’t sweat pants.
I clear my throat. "Let's move on to Brandi."
Daniel pivots and leans in to the smiling secretary with her ever-present clipboard. "Her breath is pleasant. No strong odors from perfume or body odor." He steps out of her personal space.
I bite my lip as I study her attire. All black. Nothing missing or broken. Black shoes that looked comfortable. "Well, she looks very well put together. Even her posture is recommended in the textbook."
He keeps moving. "I agree. Let's see the others to make sure." Daniel walks around Les, stopping as they stand face-to-face. "He hasn't shaved. It's not a beard or goatee, just a mess."
Then the hard-to-please gentleman saunters to the last model. Thank God he didn't add personal commentary on the mess part.
I didn't have to move far to share my opinion. "The musk. It's overwhelming." I mouth an apology to Kayla.
Daniel backs up. "Wow. That's pungent. Unlike your fragrance, Carla."
"May I ask what you mean by that?" I join him a few paces away from the models.
Daniel raises his eyebrows. "Um, you smell nice. I didn't think it was that complicated." He releases a slow smile.
"Oh. Thanks." Could this guy be any more confusing? Insult, compliment, repeat.
We share awkward small talk until Rose calls us into a semi-circle near the four models. "So, which model has the most professional appearance?"
Daniel elevates his hand, but speaks before being called on. "Brandi."
The owner doesn’t show any feelings of us being correct, or not. "Carla, explain why you and Daniel came to that conclusion."
I look to Daniel, who winks. What is it with this guy? Talk about an enigma. “She’s clean, no odors. Her clothes are not only neat, they’re appropriate for the work setting. Her shoes match the tone she set with her clothes. Her posture was also closest to what the book recommended. We felt she represented best what we need to emulate." I turn toward Rose.
"Well done. Everyone, Daniel and Carla are exactly right. These are the things you need to choose every day when working with the public."
She dismisses us back upstairs.
Daniel takes the steps two at a time. He stops at the top and turns toward me. "I might be wrong about you."
"Oh? About what?"
"That you weren't cut out for this. I judged you by the drab ponytail you insist on wearing. There might be hope for you after all."
⌛⌛⌛
The next morning Brandi and her funky red glasses are the first to greet me inside the warm beauty school building.
"Good morning, Carla. Ready for shampoos?" She takes a sip from her Gloversville Beauty School mug.
"I guess. Upstairs, right?" I point toward the spiral steps.
She returns her cup to a coaster. "Yes. Mr. Moore plans to have everyone back down here later."
"Oh. We're doing something more than instruction?" I push a stray lock behind my ear.
"Les likes to get right into it. He feels after teaching, it's time to practice. You'll start with the mannequins, then work on each other this afternoon."
I take a deep breath as I head up the stairs. "Great." I can feel sweat beads on my wrist.
Ten minutes later, Les Moore starts class by displaying more brands of shampoo than I can think of on a front table. Daniel, Mitzi, and perfect blonde girl, Claire, rise in their seats, probably to look at the products.
"Ladies and gentleman, if you want a quality reputation, you need a professional shampoo. Most of these here—" The instructor in all black lifts his right arm and with one swoop, knocks the bottles to the floor. "Are junk."
“Whoa. That’s a lot of garbage shampoo.” Mitzi sits.
“I prefer to call the contents in these bottles perfumed water.” He kicks a couple bottles near his feet out of the way. “Now, let’s talk about what makes a great shampoo, and then move into the right way to shampoo hair.”
Sandy, the girl with dyed black tresses and heavy, dark eye makeup leans in to her left, touching my elbow. "I thought you just stick a head under the sink and lather."
Les looks over at us, so I offer a tight smile. She slithers her elbow back and rests her chin and arms together on her desk.
Daniel, on the other hand, appears to be taking copious notes.
Lord, help me fit into this class and be one of the successful ones.
⌛⌛⌛
When we break for lunch, I stay in my seat and unpack the yogurt, crackers and cheese Betty handed to me in a paper bag before I walked out the door. There’s an unlabelled bottle full of some kind of clear liquid. Oh, Betty, so sweet, but I wonder what’s in this drink, anyway? Water? Pop?
As I spread everything on my napkin, the woman with a cute blunt cut that I didn't recognize from orientation pulls the seat next to me out, and sits. "You weren’t saving a seat for anyone, were you?" She holds up a pink insulated lunch bag.
"No, it’s for you. I'm Carla. I don't think we met at orientation?" I open my cracker package and watch her lay out her food with shaky hands.
"I wasn't able to make it. One of those things I couldn't help. I'm Ella Traynor." She unzips a snack bag full of green grapes and pops one in her mouth.
"What do you think of the class so far?" I shift my chair in order to get a better view, and hopefully make eye contact.
"I'm overwhelmed, but trying to calm down. I dread the practice. I’m nervous I’ll make a mistake." Ella reaches for another grape.
"I’ve worried about that too. I’m trying to remember we practice on the heads. Better to learn now than to make an error while with the public. Right?"
Ella straightens and clears her throat, giving me a glance before returning to her meal. "I guess. I hate failing." Her voice catches.
I rotate my chair again, moving close
r. Her face is pasty white, quite the contrast against Sandy’s painted look and Claire’s tan skin.
"Ella, I know we just met, but do you want to talk? I’m a good listener. I can definitely relate to that fear."
She hangs her head until her bangs fall, then jerks up as she pushes the chair back and stands. "No. I'm good. Really. Just stressed. Maybe if Mr. Moore lets us pick partners, we could be a team."
"I'd like that."
The bundle of nerves standing before me reaches for her lunch bag. "I have to make a call. I'll be back. Thanks for letting me sit here, Carla." She turns and walks away.
Strange.
⌛⌛⌛
Once we finish eating, Les leads us down to the salon chairs. He opens a cupboard full of capes and tosses them to every other student. Then he saunters over to where we all cluster.
"Rowling, you and Garrett." Our teacher points to me and Daniel.
Great.
Ella grips her cape until her knuckles match her face. I shrug my shoulders, hoping she understands that my gesture means I wish we could be partners.
Les keeps moving. He taps Ella, then uses his other hand to wave Sandy over to join her. That could get interesting.
"Okay, every team take a chair and sink. Cape wearers, you will get shampooed. Your partner will choose the correct shampoo and walk through the steps we went over this morning. You’ll be marked for choice and method of shampooing. Once finished, we'll walk through brushes and drying. Then, partners switch and we repeat. Take your places and get started."
We shuffle to a sink. Faucets spew water as I tuck Daniel's cape in to make sure he won’t get his clothes wet. He remains silent.
"Oh, one more thing." Mr. Moore raises his index finger.
"Hey! That water is hot." Claire, the flaxen-haired high school graduate jumps up as Mitzi drops the hose.
Les grins. "Ah, I was too late. Get your temperature correct before full immersion. We don't want any burns."
I glance over to Ella, who holds on to the chair as if she’s ready to
enter a torture chamber. What is her story?
"You're wasting water, Carla." Daniel's voice rises above the water I forgot I was activating.
"Sorry." I test the temperature and start rinsing his hair. "Is that okay?"
"Mmm-hmm."
I take that as approval, so I pour out a dime-sized amount from my selected bottle into my palm. I lather up and pay attention to clean his scalp without scraping him with my nails.
"How is that, Daniel?"
He nods, so I keep the rinse going. When I turn the water off, I open the towel full length and make sure to cover his head and rub. Les is close to my sink, and I feel like he’s taking mental notes.
"I'm finished. You can sit up, Daniel, and I guess we wait."
Our professor walks to our area and stands across from me, leaving Daniel in the middle. "Congratulations, Miss Rowling. Your shampoo choice was one of the top three the salon recommends. Your style was effective. Not only a clean shampoo but a focus on your client's comfort.”
I exhale.
Daniel pulls on the cape and steps out of the chair to face me. His wet locks don’t look much different than the messy style I observed before we started. Wet drops fall on his beard stubble.
"I'm pleasantly surprised, Carla."
I raise my eyebrows. "Sorry? I don't quite understand."
"I'll be honest. When Moore announced we were partners, I wasn't excited. Like I said before, I have a clear vision and it's important for me to excel here."
My back stiffens. "Why would I get in the way of you succeeding? I want to graduate, too."
He chuckles. "I assumed with that sad ponytail you wore last week, and the stringy, limp hair you have today, you don’t care about success or your appearance."
My eyes narrow as I cross my arms against my chest. “Do you have a girlfriend?” I ignore the toned muscles in his arms.
Daniel shakes his head. “No, why?”
“I wondered how she put up with you.”
Chapter Five
The sixty-plus minute return drive to Speculator Falls helps me shake off shampoo examples, sterilization techniques, and quiz information running through my head and transform me back to being a mom. I put a Taylor Swift CD in the player and try to focus on the weekend ahead, although with the dicey late January weather, I need to watch the road conditions, too.
While navigating the twists and turns that dominate Route 30, my mind leaps forward to the agenda. Helping Noah with homework. Will wants to take me ice fishing. Sunday dinner at Ben’s after church, knowing most of that time will be with Jenna talking about the wedding. Happy I didn't have to return to Gloversville until later Sunday.
As I enter the mountain region, suddenly Daniel’s remarks come to mind, and my thoughts backpedal from weekend plans to all the sour barbs the uptight guy from Lake George kept throwing my way.
I assumed with that sad ponytail you keep wearing, you have no designs to be an excellent stylist.
That was Monday's kick-off. Several verbal jabs later, he finished the week with Carla, you need to step it up. Ignoring the same ponytail style you seem married to, you come in looking like you rolled out of bed and stole a mime's clothes. A stylist is constantly marketing their product and advertising their talents. Who will come to your shop when you're in black sweats and wrinkled shirts?
Looking down at the speedometer, I realize I’m taking out my anger on the accelerator.
Daniel is infuriating. Keeping my mouth shut around him is as hard as remembering chapter two in our bacteriology notes. As I trek north, I have a few comebacks in mind to blast on him when school resumes when my phone rings the Golden Girls theme ringtone, my song for Jenna. I click the hands-free device to accept.
"Carla? Are you on your way back?"
It’s impossible not to think about her now shoulder-length chocolate color locks. It was a battle to get her to try a new style after years of short hair.
"Yep. I'm almost to Northville. Why? You want a perm this weekend?"
She's fun to mess with.
"You're hysterical. No, I know when we add Ben, Will, and Noah to the mix we won't have a lot of time to ourselves. I wondered how you're doing. It has to be hard being away from your boys all week."
I slow down for a car ahead of me turning left, my mind trying to connect to Jenna's line of thinking. "Boys? Don't you mean Noah?"
There was a pause before she sighs. "Um, Carla?"
"What? I don't understand what you mean."
"Will and Noah. Your boys. Your family, more or less?"
I slap the steering wheel. Will. Of course. "Right. I missed Noah so much it ached, it's been just us for so long I forget to include Will. I can’t wait to see them." I was reaching and sense my best friend knows it.
"Is your schooling going any better than your excuses?"
That Jenna never minces words.
⌛⌛⌛
By the time I pull into my driveway, it’s dark. The porch light’s a beacon leading me to the door. Will's truck is in my usual spot. The scene could be cozy except for Jenna's words running through my mind.
I totally miss seeing Will as part of the family. It’s not natural to include him and I can’t figure out if that’s normal because I’ve been alone for so long, or if I’m a horrible person for not remembering it’s the three of us. Jenna knows my struggle and thankfully doesn’t condemn me for whatever I’m feeling or should be. But the guilt plagues me just the same as I walk to my front door.
"Mom! You're back!" Noah throws the door back with such force I’m afraid it will unhinge. He wraps his long arms around me for a rare hug. Even after four days, he seems taller, if that’s possible.
"Let her in, Son. She's probably as excited to be here as we are to have her." Will's kind voice filters out the door onto the porch.
Noah jumps up and gestures me inside.
Walking into the living room, everything looks s
o homey. Even though Betty provides a comfortable room, this is home. I move close to the couch so I can put my purse down and spot a vase full of roses on the coffee table.
Will nearly jogs from the kitchen to greet me. "They’re from both of us. We can't wait to hear about your week. Beautiful flowers for our gorgeous lady." Will wastes no time leaning in and planting a kiss right on my lips.
"Will, wow. I guess it was a long week for you, too.” I peek at the beautiful bouquet and wrap my arms tight around his neck for another kiss. “Thank you. You take such good care of me.” I glance at Noah. “Let me re-phrase that. You take such good care of us.”
Will takes a small step back and puts his hands on his hips. "Sweetie, it felt like one of the longest weeks of my life."
Noah looks to the floor, his bangs covering his eyes.
I walk over to my teen. "How was it for you with me gone? Did everything go okay?"
He shoves his hands in his pockets and shuffles with his feet, a habit since his toddler days. One that I remember his father having back in high school. "It didn't smell as nice around here, I guess." He keeps his focus on the floor.
Will joins us. "We did great. But I think I speak for both of us when I say how glad we are to see you home. So, sit down. Tell us everything." He drops on the couch, moves my purse, and gestures for me to join him.
Noah looks to me. "A bunch of kids from school are meeting up at Jack Frosty's for a bit. Can I go?"
I open my mouth to respond, but Will jumps in.
"Your mom just walked in the door. You want to leave now?"
I pivot and face the man wearing faded jeans with holes in the knees. "Will. I can talk to my child."
His smile dissipates faster than fog in the mountains.
Great.
Still, I continue. "Who are the friends?"
Noah’s feet keep moving. "You know. Josh. Tommy. Amber. Brittany."
Bingo. Brittany Hunter. On and off crush since kindergarten.
"Jack Frosty's closes at ten. It's after nine. Is that your only plan?"
"We were going to Josh's to play X-Box after." He’s moving so much I wait for a tap dance.
That familiar knot in my stomach starts tightening. "Everyone has that plan, or just the boys?"
Entangled: Surrendering the Past (Surrendering Time Book 2) Page 4
