Page 27 of Drop Pass

"Yes, Addison made one for me. I think it’s with Paul?" I looked around hoping Addison would appear and tell me where to go. She just told me to show up at ten and her best stylist would take care of me.

He eyed me before nodding. "You’re the new friend, Elena, right?"

"Yes. Maybe?"

He finally smiled. "I’ve heard the women talk about the new girl in town. You’re the weather woman, right?"

I nodded. "That’s me."

"Good. Come on back."

I followed him around the front desk to the second chair near the window. Another man appeared and placed his hands on my shoulders when I sat.

"Hello there. What brings you to my chair?"

I met his eyes in the mirror with a nervous smile. "It’s time for a new me."

His eyebrows lifted a millimeter. "That can mean a lot of things. Are we trimming a few inches, going to a bob, a pixie, a few highlights, maybe shaving it all off?"

I laughed. “You’re right. That was ambiguous. I’ve been blonde for almost ten years now. I just moved from LA and I want a new look. A fresh start."

"What’s your natural color?"

"Light brown."

"Let’s get you close to that." He played with my hair, fluffing it and tossing it back and forth over my shoulders.

"I’d like that."

"We need to bring your layers up. Frame your face a bit. Addison said you’re on the news so you need to stay conservative, right?"

I nodded. "I can’t go too crazy. I have to look professional and have it styled every day."

"Okay. I think I know what I want to do. Do you trust me?"

I’d never had a stylist ask me that, but he came highly recommended by the women of the Pride. When I said Addison mentioned her best stylist several of the women had instantly brought up Paul’s name. They came to him too.

"I do."

"Then follow me to the sinks and we’ll get started."

I stood and followed him to the back of the open room. I passed several stations with cuts and colors in various stages of completion. Everyone I saw looked good, so I wasn’t too nervous I was going to hate my reflection in a few hours.

The week before I moved to California, I went to the salon to bleach my hair so I’d blend in when I got to LA. I wanted to look like all the beautiful famous women there. I did my homework. Ninety-two percent of the women on the major news station in the state had blonde hair. It wasn’t a good idea to try to stand out or go against the fold so I decided to join them. Every interview I went to was filled with beautiful blondes all competing for the same positions. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like going to an audition as an actress. It had to be a million times worse. At least I knew I was qualified for the position as a weather reporter. Half the women I was up against weren’t certified meteorologists. They thought it was as easy as standing in front of a camera and smiling. Fortunately for me, I had the look and the smarts.

At the time I convinced myself I wasn’t selling out; I was just doing what I had to. I knew there was a game I had to play. A role I had to fill. I was fine with that, at the beginning.

It had grown old over the years. Even though I had proven myself and my abilities to do more than stand in front of a green screen and point at the invisible numbers, I was never treated as anything more than a pretty face.

Salt Lake was giving me that chance. There was nothing in my contract about maintaining my hair in a certain color. Or my weight or clothing. I was free to be myself, whoever that was.

Paul shampooed my hair and I felt myself relaxing for the first time in a long time. I was getting back to the real me.

Neither of us where the chit-chat type, so I sat and watched Paul work in stunned silence. He had already colored my hair with the brown and was going through now with a slightly lighter color to create natural depth.

My hair was brown.

A warm, dark color that looked completely foreign on me. I couldn’t stop smiling. The change made my blue eyes pop. I couldn’t wait to see the end result. I was already excited to show my friends.