At this point, Alyssa was pulling on plastic gloves. “Tell ’em to make one.”

“You offer tequila, I expect Patrón,” the unseen Ruby declared.

“Whatever. Hoof it. My bitches are hungry,” Alyssa returned, reaching to open a drawer filled with foils.

“On it,” Ruby replied.

Alyssa started sectioning off my hair.

“What do you think of these?” Josie asked and I turned my eyes to the Surface screen.

There was a pair of silver pumps on it that were simply extraordinary.

“Maybe you should get my credit card out of my purse,” I suggested.

“Size?” Josie asked, her voice smiling.

“Six and a half,” I answered.

She grabbed my purse and sat in the salon chair next to me.

Alyssa twisted and clipped up my hair.

And as time wore on, I found it was astonishingly easy to pick up the pieces.

All you had to do was sit in a chair…

And have good women as company.

* * * * *

“Are you ready for it?”

It was hours later.

It was thousands of online shopping dollars later.

It was two sessions of makeup lessons (Alyssa’s salon did special occasion makeup and had a huge trunk full of it). This done in between me “cooking” and getting my hair washed out, Alyssa taking a client, then coming back to do a cut (with my side or back to the mirror), Alyssa taking another client, then coming back to do the style.

Now I was done.

Staring at the back wall, unable to see myself in any of the copious mirrors around me, I replied on a lie because I was anxious as anything, “Ready.”

She whirled me around.

I looked in the mirror and watched my face crumple.

“Girl, do not start crying!” Alyssa fairly shouted. “You’ll mess up your makeup.”

I took a breath in through my nose. I took another one in through my mouth.

And I stared at me.

Alyssa had cut in delicate layers, these making my now shining, gray-less, subtly highlighted hair less heavy. These layers were more distinct around my face where she’d feathered them down the sides and cut in a long bang that hung to my eyelashes and dipped lower at my temples. That and the increased blonde around my face giving my skin a healthy glow. And Josie’s expert makeup tactics that were all about proper use of color, perfect shading, all of this packing a punch, made my eyes pop even more than they used to do.

I looked younger, not decades, but definitely younger.

Mostly, I looked like I gave a shit. I looked like I cared. I looked like I was worth something…to me.

Worth taking care of.

Worth spoiling.

Worth everything.