Split Ends by Kristin Billerbeck

you’re serious.”
    Why am I suddenly feeling like an intern on Grey’s Anatomy?
    â€œDo you have a boyfriend?”
    â€œNo, why? Is it obvious?” I start to pat my jeans, but it's clear whatever she was asking me, it isn’t my clothes.
    She tosses a white clipboard on the countertop, and I feel like I’m at the starting gate waiting for her to say go. I want to explore. I want to discover what it’s like to feel like a stylist in Yoshi’s Beverly Hills.
    â€œYoshi asks that all applicants read our manual and fill out this application so that he can refer to it when speaking with you. You can wait in the back room while you write.” She looks me up and down. “Out of clients’ view. Even though it’s only a teaching model, Yoshi has a strict policy about the appearance of his stylists,” she says, as if to make sure I get her message. “ Yes, you look like dog meat. To the dungeon with you!”
    I look down. The Chip & Pepper jeans are not enough to overcome the rest, I guess. “My cousin dressed me,” I say, thrusting my shoulders back. I grab the clipboard and head toward the salon.
    â€œYeah, you look great,” she calls after me. “It’s just that Yoshi doesn’t allow skinny jeans in the shop. No denim at all, actually.” She crosses her arms. “We think it looks tacky and lazy.”
    This from someone who’s forcing me to gaze at her belly button.
    â€œNo skinny jeans, but midriffs are okay?” I ask innocently. Really, there’s not a catty sound attached to it.
    She yanks down her shirt. “No, but I have plans after work today.”
    I don’t even want to know. “You look darling. I was just clarifying for myself.” I start to gaze at the walls and the gorgeous pictures from magazines and autographed glossies of the Hollywood elite.
    â€œRenee Zellweger has been here?” My eyes zoom to the next photo. “Faith Hill? Oh my gosh, McDreamy? I love him. I totally love him!” I look back at the receptionist. “Have you met all these people?”
    â€œJust a few of them. You’re going to save the starstruck routine for me, right?”
    â€œOh, absolutely! It’s just so weird to think I have a shot of one day working on Hollywood royalty, you know? My hairstyles might be seen all over the world.”
    â€œI know. It’s big, but you have to play down that you care an iota.”
    I giggle my excitement. “I’m sorry. Of course, I know you’re right. No starstruck.”
    â€œFill out the paperwork first. It will get you in a serious mood to meet Yoshi.”
    My eyes go right to the forms and the glaring empty spaces marked Previous Experience. Lying is bad enough. Lying on paper is illegal. She’s right. I’m definitely out of the giddy mood. “My cosmetology license is—it’s in another state,” I say to the girl. “I’ve already had my state review, but I’m still not approved to work here.”
    â€œAs long as you’re in the application process, that’s fine. California is one of the states that makes it hard to transfer. Yoshi knows that. You don’t need a license to sweep hair.”
    No, I don’t. But what is that supposed to mean ? “But I need a license to wash hair,” I say hopefully.
    â€œIf Yoshi finds your work satisfactory, he’ll make sure you get what you need for California’s extra hours. You won’t be cutting hair for a long time, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”
    â€œRight. I’m a long way from working on Hollywood royalty—that’s what you’re saying to me?”
    â€œDon’t be discouraged; just be realistic. So, what’s Scott like?” This is said with a hint of friendliness. “Is he as cool as he seems? Have you known him long?”
    I’m worrying about how long it’s going to be before I touch hair