Of All the Stupid Things by Alexandra Diaz

me.” I wink at him.
He laughs. “Sweetie, when I’m done with you, even the gay boys will be on their knees, you’re so gorgeous. So what will it be? Trim and touch-up on the highlights? Add a bit of body?”
I make a face while Pierre runs his fingers through my hair. “I need something different. Maybe a little cut, but I think I’ll go back to dark hair. Dark brown. And then with some burgundy highlights?”
Pierre closes his eyes for a second to imagine it. “Okay, I like it! You’re right. Blonde is so yesterday and there are so many fake blondes it doesn’t make a statement anymore. A rich dark brown is definitely the way to go, but not too dark or you’d go goth, and that wouldn’t be a good look on you.”
I nod. Dark hair is good. I also know that if Pierre really thinks it’s a bad idea, he would suggest something else. And he’s right about blondes, they aren’t getting noticed anymore. It’s people with dark hair who are turning heads these days.
It takes a few hours and a bit of pain (from Marissa waxing my legs and bikini line while the color sets) before Pierre lets me look in the mirror.
“Oh, sweetie, I love it,” Pierre says as he blow-dries my hair. “I swear, if you were an actress, we’d start a craze all over Hollywood in two weeks tops.”
I have to admit he’s right. I look good. Damn good. I can’t wait to show everyone.
Mother comes around then talking on her phone. She doesn’t even look at me. She just gives Pierre a wad of hundred-dollar bills and blows him a kiss. Then she waves her hand for me to follow her to the car. Three guys’ heads turn as I walk by. It’s nice to have at least some people notice.
We drive off as Mother pushes multitasking to the extreme. At the moment, she’s still talking on the phone, touching up her lipstick in the rearview mirror, and driving the car. With her so preoccupied, it’s only moments before I can launch my plan.
She’s talking to her secretary because she keeps going on about some patient and how she can’t stop by the office on a Saturday.
“I have a family too, and we have prior commitments. I promised to spend the day with my daughter.”
I didn’t know that was the plan, and Mother probably didn’t either, but I see my chance anyway.
“Shopping,” I whisper.
Mother raises her penciled eyebrows. (She always has Marissa wax them off completely so she can match them with her mood of the day. Today, they are perfect arches. They make her look happier than she does on antidepressants.) “No I really can’t, I need to get my daughter some school clothes.”
I smile to myself. Perfect. Maybe I can get some shoes too, and then an early dinner at Lay Bone From-age. If I play it right, I might get to spy on Nash for Pink as well.
“Okay, fine,” she says into the phone. “I’ll see if I can swing by the office after we’re done.”
My smile disappears.
I pull out my own phone to play some music and notice a text from David. He asks if I want to see the new cheesy thriller with him this afternoon. I write that I just got my hair done and am now going shopping with my mother. He writes back immediately wondering what I look like. I tell him that I shaved most of it off and what’s left is in rainbow dreads. He sends a laughing smiley and says to send him a picture and if I’m telling the truth, he’ll pay me a hundred bucks. I would have told Mother to turn the car around to dash back to Pierre’s but she’s still on the phone. Instead, I check my makeup and realize I haven’t put any on. I debate between staying as is or using my mother’s. No question. Besides, I remember Cosmo saying that the natural look is back. Fluffing my hair a bit with my hands, I take six pictures and send him the best one. It takes him a few minutes to write back: DAM ! WHEN CAN I COME OVER ?!
I laugh and tell him in his dreams. But then I write that if he’s still up for the movie, I’d text him when we’re done shopping.

Pinkie
     
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