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Chapter Five
Saylor
The second I step through the door, my mouth drops open. The stylist’s shop is on the backside of a large business building. It has an open floorplan with white walls, floors, and ceilings. It’s clean, classy, and stylish. In the corner are four stations for make-up and on the opposite wall are a matching set of salon chairs with floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
A woman wearing black pants, a white top, and a fuchsia pink scarf around her neck walks toward us in stiletto heels. “Hello, ladies.” She smiles at the girls. “It’s good to see you two again. And bringing a friend with you. That’s fantastic.”
“What can we say? We love the place.” Ashley hugs the woman. The size difference between the two women would be humorous, but Ashley makes up for her short stature with personality. She’s wearing a blue skirt with black thigh-high boots and a yellow and blue top.
“Ditto,” Dani says and embraces the woman. She stands back and faces me. “Saylor, this is Leah Gregg. Leah, this is our friend, Saylor.”
Friend. It sounds surreal to be called a friend by these two women. I had a few friends back in middle school, but after my parents died, I moved and lost track of them. High school? That was a mess. And college? It wasn’t any better. I was the bell curve setter and not on anyone’s list of favorite people.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I brush my hand on my jeans and stick it out. My stomach picks that exact time to rumble. Lord, tell me she didn’t hear that.
“You, as well.” She smiles and firmly shakes my hand.
After our greeting, she stands back and places her hands behind her back. “Are you ready to get started?”
“I guess.” I shrug. One of the hairdressers laughs as she cuts a long strand of hair off the woman in front of her. Should I cut my hair? I grasp the end of my braid. No. I can’t. My hair is my security blanket.
“We’ll let you do the personality test,” Ashley says and walks toward the rows of clothing displays as if she already knows where she belongs. “I need some new clothes.”
Dani pats my arm. “Go with, Leah. She’ll help you with everything.”
“Okay.” I nod and follow behind her like a little kid who’s worshipping the senior in high school. I’m so out of my element.
Moments later, we’re seated at a station, and I’m filling out a questionnaire as Leah types furiously into her cellphone.
How do you get from point A to point B?
What kind of question is that? And how does that relate to either my personality or the clothes I wear? I’m going to end up wearing camo and spraying myself down with doe urine.
Question after question asks me about how I move and interact with people. What makes you uncomfortable? This. This makes me uncomfortable. But there’s not a pre-made answer with that as the response.
I click on the last option, and no other questions come up.
“That’s it.” Leah claps her hands together and stands, hovering over me.
“What’s it?”
“We’re done. Come on.” She waits for me to stand. “My husband operates his business out of the top floors, so we use the stairs to avoid interfering with his operations.”
“What do you mean, we’re done?”
She ushers me to the stairs. “You’ve taken the quiz, and now we’re going to try on clothes. I’ll bring different collections of apparel in your size, and you’ll identify which ones feel the most like you.”
I stop at the base of the stairs, twist on my heel, and stare at the computer I vacated. “Don’t I receive a score?”
“You have a score, but it’s not important. At least, not yet.” She laughs and climbs the stairs.
These people are crazy. I follow behind her. The second I step onto the next floor, I gasp. Rows and rows of clothes in all different colors, sizes, and styles fill every available space. It’s like a department store, but different. There aren’t racks of the same thing in every size. It’s more…. I can’t think of the word. My mind races. Eclectic, maybe?
My gaze keeps returning to the rack of muted colors. Does that feel like me? Those are the colors in my apartment. But I don’t own a single dusty rose or mauve piece of clothing. I either wear jeans and t-shirts or power outfits that we were taught in college to purchase for office work. Thank God Isabella nixed those outfits for the first week.
