Page 65 of Brutal
Drake grins at her. “Guilty. But hey, this will be fun, too.”
For about five minutes, I’d wager, but I’ve already done enough betting for one day. It’s easier to just resign myself to the inevitable force that Drake can be.
I sit down at the stylist’s station and answer her questions about what I want.
“The ombre will look great on you,” she assures me.
Drake makes a noise, and I sigh and glance his way. “What?”
“What does that mean? Ombre?” he asks.
“It’s a gradient.” I lean back as the stylist begins preparing my hair. “Light on one end, dark on the other.”
“Oh.” He nods. “Okay.”
He’s already bored, I can tell. But he committed to this, and I don’t care how much he paces.
The stylist is clearly interested in whatever is going on between me and Drake, but she’s too polite to say anything. She knows there’s a hefty tip waiting for her if she does a good job and doesn’t piss either of us off.
I try to keep up with Drake’s questions, which are mostly about the hair dyeing process. After the stylist has finished applying the bleach and leaves to take care of other things, Drake takes his stool and scoots closer.
“You did this a lot, Mimi?” he asks, eyes strangely hungry.
I nod. “Since I was a teenager. I usually dyed it myself though. Hairdressers are expensive.”
“That’s okay. I can afford all the hairdressers you want,” he says, like he needs to assure me of that fact. “I can afford anything you want.”
“I know,” I answer, not pointing out that I’m one of the things he bought. It’s funny seeing him so eager to please. Does he realize that he’s seeking my approval?
I shouldn’t give it to him. He’s entitled, spoiled, narcissistic, a fucking asshole…
But I do like him more like this than how he gets when he’s in a bad mood.
“The hairdresser is nice, right?” he asks, glancing at her as she starts walking back toward us. “She seems to know what she’s doing.”
“You’re going to get sticker shock when you see how much she charges,” I say. He opens his mouth to protest, and I shake my head. “Not because you can’t afford it. Because you didn’t realize hair appointments could cost that much.” I give him a small smile. “Be honest. You usually just go in for a cut and wash, right?”
“Well yeah,” Drake says, shrugging. “I still don’t pay like fifty bucks for it.”
He’s still going to bat an eye at it, no matter what he says, but that’s fine. Maybe he’ll learn not to be so impulsive.
And maybe pigs will fly.
When she returns, he flashes the hairdresser a charming smile. “Isn’t she going to be even more beautiful with this? The orange was okay, but this is going to be special, right?”
She nods enthusiastically. “For sure. And the new haircut will frame your face wonderfully, miss.”
I appreciate that she’s addressing me and not just Drake. “Thanks. I’ll trust you with it. As long as it isn’t too short.”
“Nope, we’ll keep it shoulder length.” The stylist checks a few strands of hair. Apparently the color satisfies her, because she has me go to a washing station to wash all the bleach out. It’s nice having somebody else do all this. Relaxing, even, except Drake starts fidgeting while the stylist applies the hair dye.
“I told you it would take forever,” I tell him. “Do you want to go walk around until I’m done?”
He brightens at that, then frowns at me. “You sure? I don’t want to abandon you here.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him, and he flashes a grin at me.
The stylist smiles at him in sympathy. “There are sports magazines up front.”