AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Where are you going?” Dad asks.
“Just to have a bite to eat,” I say. “Maybe do a little dancing.”
“Callum’s letting you out?” My dad snorts. “I’m guessing you’ll have an army of guards escorting you on the dance floor, love.”
Not wanting to lie, I just laugh at his imagery. “Can you imagine me dancing with those men?”
“Hold still!” Freya hisses as she tucks the last few strands of my flame-red hair under the wig cap.
“Is that Freya with you?” Dad asks.
“Aye, Dad. She’s doing my hair. Some of her friends from work are joining us out tonight. Should be a good time!”
“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Dad says. “It was a rude awakening. It took Callum showing up here and taking you away to make me see the error of my ways, and it finally made me sober up. And you getting a glimpse of the big wide world by staying with those two in Glasgow. Well, it’s all working out for now.”
“Aye, Dad. It is.” I stare at the mirror. I look like Ms. Daphne, the sweet cafeteria manager from primary school. She always snuck me extra boiled potatoes when I looked a little thin. “I’ve got to go now. Love you!”
We exchange pleasantries. I hang up the landline, staring at Freya’s work in the mirror.
“This is not a good look,” I say. “Not good at all.”
“Just wait, little bee,” she says, using one of her many nicknames for me. “I’m not done yet. May I introduce you to Kare Bear with a K.” She holds up a shiny blonde bob with thick bangs to hide my face.
“You named your wig?” I ask.
“Not wig. Wigs. I have hundreds, and yes, they all have names. Today, I’ll be wearing Kimmie.” She points a long red fingernail, filed to a point, at a long brunette wig, the part running down the center.
I take a closer look at the brunette. The hair feels soft and expensive. “Is that a real part at the scalp?”
“Yes,” she says. “A skin-toned netting meant to look like human skin. I don’t skimp.”
“When going undercover?” I ask.
“Ever,” she laughs. “You can see why I had to get off our wee island. My personality was city-sized, and so were my financial aspirations. Fishermen’s wives can’t afford Channel, now can they?” She does a little twirl, showing off the red soles of her sky-high heels.
“Now, just hold still.” She pulls the wig over my hairline, settling it in place. It takes a few moments of tugging and adjusting before she’s happy. “Va-va-va-voom! I’m getting Marilyn Monroe vibes.”
“Vibes?” I ask.
“Vibes. Feels. Just look.” She grabs my shoulders, turning me toward the mirror. “See?”
I take in my reflection with awe. It’s not mousy little Fiona looking back at me. I’m a blonde bombshell.
Reaching up, I brush my fingers over the fibers of the wig. “Is this real human hair?”
“Yes.” Her face pops in the mirror next to mine. “What do you think?”
“I love it.” I turn right to left, getting a full view of my profile with the new do. I’ve spent hours envying Freya’s sexy locks. It’s only been a moment, and I’m already finding it true that blondes have more fun.
“You could pull it off, you know. Platinum. I have a girl who may have an opening next month. I can book an appointment for you if you want. Maybe start slow with some partial highlights?”
I laugh. “Last I got my hair trimmed, it was in Ms. Greta’s kitchen.”
“Och. God! I remember her. Soprano in the church choir. She gave me bangs once when I was seven. Grew them back and never tried that again. Is she the only one who's ever done your hair?”
“Yes,” I admit, sheepish around fashionable Freya.
“Yer due for a proper salon visit. Angie’s amazing, so she’s fully booked all the time. She’s great. She keeps my grays away.”
