Like A Bad Penny

by: Evelyn

Amy Gardner walked into Jean Pierre Beauty Salon for her 2 p.m. appointment. She looked at her watch impatiently, waiting for her regular stylist to meet her. She glanced in the mirror and was frustrated to see the grey very clearly showing at her roots.

“Ms. Gardner?”

Amy looked up and nodded coldly to Amber Fisher, a woman of about 35, who was her regular hair dresser. Amy was determined to look good, but had never managed to control her unruly locks. She hated that left untreated, she would have a head full of grey, lifeless hair. So for the last three years, she’d had a standing twice-a-week appointment with Amber.

“Amber, I was going to have just a regular shampoo and blow dry, but look at these roots,” Amy said in an accusing voice, as if her grey hair were someone else’s fault.

“Actually, I’ve been consulting with a color specialist,” Amber explained with a small smile, “and I think I’m going to change your formula.”

“Well, you’d better do something and do it fast,” Amy snapped. “I’ve got an important appointment at 5.” She sat down in the salon chair, and Amber wrapped her in a cape, and began applying the color. She set the timer for 20 minutes, and then said, “When you hear the ding, go over to the shampoo corner and get it washed out.” Amy nodded as Amber left the room.

When the timer rang, Amy moved to the shampoo area. She glanced quickly at the woman next to the sink, and thought she looked vaguely familiar, but didn’t recognize her as the usual shampoo girl. Amy sat down and leaned her head back into the sink.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Gardner.” Amy was surprised that this woman knew her name.

“Water warm enough?”

Amy mumbled “Yes,” beginning to relax from the warm water and the strong hands massaging her scalp.

“I think you’ll find this new formula will cover your grey longer,” the woman continued. Amy shrugged further back into the chair, thoroughly relaxed.

“My daughter’s lucky,” the shampooer continued, “She’s naturally blonde. She won’t ever have your kind of coarse, frizzy grey hair. You should be grateful that you found a talented stylist like Amber, especially now that you’re single again,” the voice continued nicely.

Amy was irritated. Had other customers been gossiping to Amber about Josh dumping her?

“And a woman as important as you needs to look good when she meets with the press.”

Amy nodded slightly, her head filled with soapy suds, but the hairs on her arm beginning to tingle.

“Like that meeting you have tonight at 5 with the reporter from the National Enquirer. You’re going to have to look especially good when you sell him on this new story.”

Amy started to sit up in the chair, but strong hands held her back.

“I think you want to listen closely, Ms. Gardner,” said Carolyn. “Unless you want me to send some very interesting information I have about your college days to your board of directors.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” hissed Amy.

“Josh spoke to his old roommate Chris late night. You do remember Chris, don’t you?” Carolyn asked quietly.

“Of course I do,” Amy answered, slightly nervous.

“Chris remembers you too, although I can’t say with much fondness. He does, however, clearly remember writing your senior thesis for you. And he mentioned the name Brian McFadden. Does that name ring a bell? You know the guy you were sleeping with your sophomore year who wrote your take-home bio final? Apparently there’s a whole Amy Gardner fan club at Harvard. Were you planning on going to your 20th reunion dear?”

“I prefer to think that Chris and Brian were making a contribution to the women’s movement. What do you want?” Amy snarled.

“You know I always like people who cut to the chase, so here’s the deal. There’s nothing to negotiate, so listen carefully the first time,” Carolyn said. “I’m even giving you extra conditioner just so you have time to hear it all.”

“First, you’re going to meet the reporter as scheduled, but you’re going to insist he must have misunderstood you. I’m not sure how you’re going to do it but you do have your ways, don’t you dear.”

Amy stiffened, then muttered, “He’s going to need something to give to his editors, no matter what I do.”

“I know, that’s why you actually do have a great story that the Enquirer’s readers are going to love. Did you know the gold at Fort Knox was abducted by aliens?” Carolyn said. “What are you crazy?” Amy spat out.

“Absolutely not. I have it on highest authority from the White House and I’ve put a folder with the information in your briefcase.”

“Next, tomorrow morning CJ will announce Donnatella and Joshua’s engagement. When asked by inquiring minds, you’re going to say that you’re thrilled to hear that the two of them are getting married and that you are offended that anyone could suggest that a woman can’t fall in love and still be the consummate professional. Of course, you’re not speaking from personal experience, but I’m sure you can handle it. You really ought to have considered drama as a major.”

Amy squirmed in the chair, but Carolyn’s hands held her in place. She turned on the warm water and rinsed the conditioner from Amy’s hair.

“One more thing. Amber works 50 hours a week and has two young children. Those tips you’ve been giving her are insulting. Double them and at Christmas, remember cash is always in good taste. And the next time, Amy, you give Amber a box of Godiva chocolates, take out the card addressed to you.” With a final spray of water, Carolyn stepped away from the chair and handed Amy a towel.

She looked Amy Gardner directly in the eyes and said firmly, “You ever come near my daughter and her husband again, you won’t know what hit you.” Carolyn turned on her heels and walked out the door.

Chapters - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | Sequel - A Few Bumps in the Road

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