Songbird (Songbird, #1) (4 page)

T
WO HOURS
later, we were sitting down in the crowded food court, enjoying our coffee and taking a much-needed rest. We were surrounded by the spoils of our shopping expedition when Kelli looked up, head slightly tilted to one side, appraising me.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you really need to do something with your hair.”

My long, straight hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, my usual no-fuss hairstyle, and I was now pulling the length over my shoulder, examining the ends.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” I asked a little sullenly. “I thought it was my best feature.”

“There’s nothing
wrong
with your hair. It’s thick and healthy—I’d kill for your hair, it’s just a little, well … plain. When was the last time you had it cut and styled?”

I tried to remember. Apart from a quick trim to neaten up the ends, I hadn’t been to the hairdresser for a full treatment in more than eighteen months.

Frowning, I looked up at her. “I can’t remember exactly. A while ago, I guess.”

“Well, that settles it. Finish your coffee and let’s go, I’m taking you to Jason, my hairdresser. He’s
fabulous!”
She emphasised the word fabulous with a flourish of her hands and I laughed heartily, not the least bit apologetic when the elderly couple at the next table scowled at us.

Jason’s salon was on the main street, set amongst some older shop fronts that mainly had
For Lease
signs in their windows. With the introduction of the undercover mall, the smaller boutique businesses couldn’t compete, and one by one, they had closed their doors and moved on.

As soon as we stepped inside we were transported to another place. The music was pumping as the five hairdressers, all dressed in funky black outfits, flitted around the salon. Two of them were cutting and talking animatedly to their clients, one was washing a teenage boy’s hair at the basins, and the other two were tidying up and sweeping.

The salon wasn’t busy, but it had a real buzz about it that made me feel a little excited to be a part of it. I looked at the hairdressers more closely, wondering which one was Jason.

Well, obviously the two girls weren’t he, and I guess the young boy with his bright orange Mohawk who was sweeping was probably not him either. As I studied the faces one by one, I reached the man bent over the basin, efficiently washing the boy’s hair. He turned as I looked his way and I was struck by how attractive he was. Could this be Jason?

“Kelli!” he exclaimed and strode over to us, leaving the boy leaning back in the basin, shampoo still in hair.

Yes, this was him, and while he looked fabulous, he didn’t look
fabulous!
He was tall and well-built, with blond, spiky hair and sparkling blue eyes. He reached us and proceeded to hug Kelli and then kissed both of her cheeks, before transferring his smiling eyes onto me.

“And who’s this vixen?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Hi, I’m Tara. You must be Jason.”

I extended my hand in preparation for a handshake but he ignored it, instead pulling me in and bending down to kiss my cheeks with the same warmth that he had greeted Kelli.

He stood back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Let me guess,” he said taking on an instantly professional tone. “You need a makeover.”

It wasn’t a question, more a statement. Okay, so maybe I did need to do something with my hair.

Jason led me over to a vacant seat in front of a mirror, then asked one of the hairdressers to finish washing the teenage boy’s hair at the basin.

“Do you need to finish doing that?” I asked, indicating to the boy at the basin. “I don’t mind waiting. We don’t have an appointment.”

He flicked his hand in the air in dismissal. “Don’t be silly. I can’t wait to get at your hair.” He ran his fingers through it and examined the roots. “Beautiful! Just needs some style and some highlights.”

He quickly turned and pushed through the swinging doors into the tiny back room.

I smiled a little uncertainly at Kelli; she had taken up the seat next to me, and laughed at my reaction.

“Don’t worry, he’ll do a great job. He’s a visionary when it comes to hair,” she said, reading my expression.

For the next two hours I was primped and fussed over to within an inch of my life. Jason decided that I needed highlights a couple of shades lighter than my natural colour, and proceeded to attach pieces of kitchen foil to my head. I then had to sit there for about half an hour while the colour took. But rather than leaving us to do something else, he ran into the shopping mall and came back with three steaming cups of coffee, and a delicious assortment of muffins and cupcakes. We sat together and gossiped while one of his staff gave me a hand massage and manicure.

Jason really was a fantastic guy, and made me feel like an old friend. I skimmed over the details of my recent break-up and move into Kelli’s apartment, and he promised to keep an eye and an ear out for any potential places that may come up for rent. I then had the colour washed out and a conditioning treatment massaged into my hair and scalp. It was heavenly!

Then, it was time to cut.

“So, what do you think you might like?” Jason asked, while quizzically examining my face shape, jawline and neck. “I think you need to keep some length, do you agree?”

“Absolutely.” I did like my long hair.

“Okay, so then I’ll layer and shape around your face to give it some life.”

I nodded. It sounded good, and not too drastic. As he started cutting and some of the length and weight was cut from the hair, a subtle curl began to appear.

He shrilled with delight, “Look at this hair! Did you even know you had this natural wave going through it?”

I hadn’t realised. It had always been one length, and so thick that any sign of a wave was weighed down. After seeing the curls and body of the hair take shape on their own, Jason decided to blow-dry it so it looked natural. Not the natural that I was used to, which was just straight and boring, but bouncy and full of life.

“Well, what do you think? Now you really are a vixen!” he teased and gave me a playful wink.

Staring back at my reflection, I was in awe. Call me vain if you like, but God it looked good! “You are a miracle worker, Jason,” I said in disbelief. “It looks amazing!”

“It’s easy with hair like yours. You should be doing shampoo commercials.” And he imitated the hair flick over the shoulder as he twirled.

We all laughed
and I took another glance at myself in the mirror. Wow, at this rate, I wouldn’t recognise myself by Monday.

“You
must
go out tonight to celebrate,” Jason said, clapping his hands together excitedly. “Do you do karaoke? There’s a great little bar just opened called
Songbirds
that’s not far from here. They make the best margaritas. We should all go!”

Kelli and I looked at each other, shrugged, and with a grin, replied in unison, “We’re in!”

W
E GOT
ready back at the apartment with the stereo pumping out Beyoncé at her sassy best.

I had one of my new outfits on. Kelli had helped me decide on a pair of low-riding skinny pants that zipped at the ankle. They made my legs look impossibly long, which was the effect I had wanted when I bought them. The pants were black, so to add some colour, Kelli suggested a shimmery bright blue halter-top, and high wedge sandals. I then double checked with her that what I was wearing was appropriate.

She nodded and rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you could wear a potato sack. Trust your instincts, you look gorgeous.”

Taking my turn at the bathroom mirror, I painstakingly applied some make-up that I’d bought during our shopping trip. It had been a while since I’d worn any, so I decided on just some light mineral powder to even out my skin tone, a blacker-than-black mascara that claimed to make your lashes look fifty per cent longer—I was dubious about that claim—black kohl eyeliner, and a soft pink lip gloss that plumped the lips at the same time. It took longer than it probably should have to apply the minimal war-paint; I would have to practice a bit more.

With the new hairstyle, clothes, and make-up, I almost did look like a new person—or just maybe a little more like my old self from a couple of years ago. All I needed now was faith and a new attitude.

We were ready just after six pm, so had some time to spare. I went to the fridge and took out a bottle of champagne and popped the cork. Maybe a drink would start me on the track to a more confident me.

I then opened the glasses cupboard with the customary thump from the inside. “You should really speak to the landlord about this door,” I said to Kelli, laughing.

Kelli cranked up the stereo as I poured the champagne. We danced around the living room and sang along to Beyoncé. As we filled our glasses for the second time, ‘Best Thing I Never Had’ came on, and we started singing louder into our invisible microphones. I took the lead and Kelli harmonised with backing vocals until the music and our singing filled the tiny apartment. As Beyoncé belted out the lines that hit home for me, I belted them out right along with her, finding my voice again after so long.

“Hey, you’ve got a great voice, you know,” Kelli said as the song finished, and we grabbed our bags and made our way to the door.

I smiled sadly. “Thanks. I used to think so. I actually studied music; I attended the Victorian School of the Arts for four years.”