“In my salon?”
“No, in Heaven.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding her head before shaking it. “I don’t get it.”
Lord, help me.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Charlotte.”
“I love that name,” I say, earning yet another blinding smile.
“Charlotte, do you have time to do my hair? And while you’re doing it, I’ll explain all about why I’m here and trying to fly under the radar.”
Something about Charlotte feels strangely familiar and comfortable. It seems manageable to tell a friendly female why I’m in Heaven. Hell, she probably already knows. It’ll be much easier than telling a hot guy who’s pissed off because I nearly ran him over.
“Wait.” Her eyes go wide. “You want me to do your hair?”
“Yes, do you have time?”
“Do I have time?” she says. “Even if I was in labor I’d make time.” Grabbing my arm, she leads me into the salon and ushers me to a large, black chair. “First,” she says, draping a cape around my neck. “Tell me what you want done.”
Curling my nose, I flick the ends of my hair. “Lets take these extensions out, and from there I just need you to make me not look like…me.”
A sly smile stretches across Charlotte’s face. “So you want something fresh, something Leni Barrick would never do.”
“Right.” I pause. “Well, within reason. Don’t shave my head or anything.”
“Got it.” She pins a section of hair on the top of my head and starts working. “No shaved head.”
“Bye bye, Leni Barrick. Hello, Lennon St. James.”
Her hands freeze, and she looks up. “Who’s Lennon St. James?”
“Me. Lennon Barrick-St. James. That’s my full name. Everyone who knows me knows me as Leni Barrick. So for now, I’m just going back to being Lennon St. James.”
“Oh, right. Okay. Well, I know all about Leni. How about you tell me all about Lennon?”
And right here is where our friendship starts. We spend the next three hours talking and laughing. I tell her the sordid tale of why I came to Heaven, and she listens with a patient ear, nodding and agreeing, offering her two cents every once in a while, and managing not to be too biased at all by what she’s already read in the rag mags. It doesn’t take long for me to fall head over heels in love with her. She’s the type of friend I’ve always wanted.
The type of friend I’ve never had.
After I told her all about me, she went on to tell me about her life. Charlotte had a rough childhood. After the death of her parents she was passed between family members before eventually becoming a ward of the state. She worked her ass off to get through college and open up this salo
n. She lives paycheck to paycheck, but she’s never been happier. I go on to tell her about the charity I started, Children Everywhere, and how it’s designed to help children who’ve gone through the same things she has. She seems almost more impressed by that than she was by the fact that I’m Leni Barrick.
We laugh and talk, and when she spins the chair so I can look at the new me, I’m convinced she’s a fairy godmother in disguise.
“So,” she says, barely containing her excitement. “What do you think? I know it’s not New York or Hollywood quality, but—”
“Stop it.” I cut her off because she certainly does not need to be putting herself down. Lips parted, I run my fingers through my hair, amazed at how silky it is. “I love it.”
“You do? Really?”
“Yes,” I breathe, in awe of what she’s done.
The extensions are gone, and she cut easily five inches off the length. My straight, boring hair is now tapered in a long stack that starts at the base of my neck and gets longer toward the front, dipping past my chin. It’s sleek, smooth, and nothing like I would’ve ever done before.