Black Widow (3 page)

The person reflecting back at me in the mirror the next morning is a mere existence of who I used to be. I’m so plain now. I hardly wear any make-up. My hair is a dull, light brown color that lays flat and lifeless. If I leave it down, no matter what I do it will part down the middle, falling straight down to my mid waist. Sighing, I pull it up into my standard slick bun and spray down any strays.

I have on my same boring pantsuit that hangs on my body, and not in a flattering way. I’ve lost weight over the past few years but haven’t bothered to buy new clothes. Why? I have no one to impress.

I look at my phone and wonder if I should call Becca. Maybe I do need a makeover. I should treat myself as my reward for making Partner at the firm. I know Nick would say I deserve it. Although, sometimes I wonder, would I have made partner if he were still alive? Would I have worked this hard if I had him to come home to?

I push the idea aside. No reason to dwell over something I will never know the answer to and can never change. This is my life now.

As I walk into work, I peek into the salon that Becca works at. Hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

Someone walking up startles me when I hear her say with the most cheerful voice, “You spying on me?”

I turn around, trying to hide the blush that’s creeping up my face since I was caught but she blows it off. “Morning,” I say, rubbing my hand on top of my head, looking down, ashamed of my looks compared to her.

My palms start to sweat and an uneasy feeling swarms my stomach as I look at her, this gorgeous pin up girl with perfect makeup, an outfit that’s fashionable, sexy yet not slutty, and hair that’s to die for. I don’t know why I even bothered looking in. This girl is so far out of my league, even just as a friend.

“Morning,” she says bright and bubbly. “Hey, my 9 am just cancelled on me. Why don’t you come in and take her spot?”

I look down, thinking about my day. I have nothing planned. My caseload is actually pretty light right now as I switch everything over to being Partner. Shrugging, I give her a shy smile, saying, “Sure, why not.”

“Great! Follow me chica.” Her bubbly personality is contagious and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face as I follow her through the door.

We walk into the opulent salon that has pearly white tiles covering the floor of the huge open room with stations in every corner. Tall teal flowers sit in crystal vases in between every station and huge ornate mirrors sit in front of every chair. Trying to act like I belong in a place like this is much harder than I thought when I was just looking in.

To say I feel like a fish out of water is an understatement. Only beautiful women who actually care about their appearance and have men falling all over them come to places like this.

Once I sit down in her chair, I’m instantly reminded of why I never want to get my hair done. I hate sitting in front of a mirror, staring at myself for an hour. It’s so uncomfortable and I’m just reminded of the ghost of a person I used to be.

Becca hands me a luxurious white robe and points to a curtain, “You can change in there.”

I look down at the robe, rubbing my hand over the softness, “Wow… really…?” I say, confused by the thought of changing.

“Yes, sweetie, we’re in a very high-end spa in downtown San Francisco. We want you to be pampered in everyway possible. Can I get you a glass of champagne as well?”

“Um, no, not on a workday. Thank you though.”

I come out of the small changing area, glad, actually, to be out of my boring suit jacket, feeling like I’m more on her playing field even though I’m in a robe. I sit in her chair and she wraps the drape around me before taking my hair out of the bun and running her fingers through the length of it.

“Man, you have some hair. How come you wear it in a bun everyday?”

I shrug, “I don’t know. I never know what to do with it. It’s always so blah, so I just pull it up.”

“Do you have anything in mind or can I work my magic?”

Oh God, what does she want to do?
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I can pull anything else off.”

“Stop, yes you can! And I’m the person to do it. Do you have time? I want to put some color on you.”

I take a deep breath. I can’t believe I’m going to let this girl I barely know
do her magic
on me but here goes nothing. “I guess. Do what you want.”

She jumps up and down like an excited school girl, “Oh goodie! I love projects.”

Projects? Really? So now I’m someone’s project? What have I gotten myself into?

My fear disappears as she washes my hair, only because I’m in pure heaven. The seat has a footrest so I’m almost lying flat as she works her nails through my hair, massaging my scalp.

Yes, I definitely needed to treat myself.

I spend the next two hours in her chair. She cuts, foils and washes my hair again, all while we talk non-stop. I forgot how much fun it is to have simple girl talk where we talk about everything but yet nothing really important. I haven’t felt this relaxed since before Nick died and I must say, it’s nice.

Any conversations I’ve had over the last five years have been very deep, meaningful, world politics types of conversations with the men in my office but with Becca I don’t feel pressured into these heavy topics. I can tell she’s all about keeping things light and it’s a refreshing change of pace from my day to day.

She’s stayed away from personal questions, which has made me even more relaxed. Our topics of conversations have been books, celebrities and crazy things we’ve seen people do around the City, which believe me; I could go on for days about. My cheeks hurt from laughing so hard.

She’s almost finished and is putting on the final touches of her styling techniques. I told her I don’t do hair so whatever she does it better not take any talent for me to duplicate because it’s not happening. She laughed at my statement but I was dead serious.

I’m facing away from the mirror because she didn’t want to ruin the surprise and just when I think I’m getting a preview of the new me, she grabs my hand, pulling me up out of my chair.

“Ok, now we need make-up,” she squeals like a giddy little girl again.

Before I can protest, I’m sitting in another chair with every color of foundation, eye shadow, and things I have no clue even what they are for, in front of me. I’m so overwhelmed I don’t even know where to start.

“Don’t freak out. I won’t over do it. Just a little of everything,” she winks. “Bring out your eyes, soften your skin tone and bring out your fuck me lips.”

I snort at her words. She laughs and smiles as she explains, “Sorry. I told you I was forward. You’ll learn to love it about me. It’s true though. You have the most perfect DSLs. I’m sure guys go crazy over them.”

I squint my eyebrows, having no clue what she just said, making her laugh out loud.

“D.S.L.… Dick Sucking Lips,” she smirks.

“Oh my God, that’s hilarious but no, believe me, no guys go crazy over my
DSL
s as you say.”

“Girl, you just aren’t going to the right places then. Just wait till you see my work. Guys will be tripping all over you from now on.”

“Thanks but I doubt it. Besides, I don’t go out.”

“Well, now you do. Me and you, tonight.” I start to protest and she stops me, “No, I won’t take no for an answer. I’ve never been so proud of my work and I want to show it off. You’re like a living masterpiece of mine,” she says proudly.

Great. How can I turn that down?
Sighing, I give in, “Ok, but I have nothing to wear.”

“No worries, you’ll borrow something of mine and you and I will have a shopping date this weekend.”

I’m so confused. Why is she being so nice to me? I understand her wanting to give me a makeover. She’s just a good sales person who wants repeat clients but now she wants to hang out and let me borrow her clothes? No one is that nice for no reason.

Are they?

“Can I ask you something?” She looks up from the counter, her eyes giving me permission. “Why are you doing this? Being so nice to me?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know. I could just tell you were a nice person and that we would be into the same things.” She pauses, pursing her lips together, “Books and all.”

I get the feeling there’s something more she’s not saying but I don’t want to push the issue. I’m just happy to have a friend again.

After Nick passed I pushed everyone away, even my family who lives on the east coast. I couldn’t look or talk to anyone without being reminded of him. Over the years everyone gave up on contacting me. Besides a call here and there from my parents, I’m extremely alone. Though my life can be lonely sometimes, I was never outgoing enough to try to meet new people.

Applying the last coat of lipstick, she steps back to admire what she called her living masterpiece. Smiling, she finally lets me get up and walks me to the mirror where I see myself for the first time.

She sits back, letting me soak it all in silence before stepping up, playing with my hair, explaining, “It’s a balayage color melt. I put these sun kissed strands to highlight around your face. The deep rich roots will gradually fade to light golden ends so you don’t have to come in here every few months to keep it up. It’s a maintenance free, yet fun, hair color.”

I can’t speak. I’m still trying to figure out the person reflecting back at me. I reach for my hair, that sits just at my shoulders now, to make sure this isn’t a trick and it really is me.

“So…?” Becca’s bouncing up and down waiting for my reply. “Do you love it or what?”

“Becca, I’m shocked. I can’t believe it’s me.”

“I know. You’re fucking hot!”

I laugh, shaking my head. I guess I am getting used to her forwardness. I lean over and hug her. “I love it. You really did a great job.”

“Yay! I’m so glad you like it!”

She goes over styling tips and I purchase some hair products and makeup from her before we set up a time and place to meet tonight before I head for my office. The thought of putting back on my boring suit jacket felt like it would ruin the little high I have going on so I keep it off, only wearing the silk top I have on underneath that normally only shows a tiny bit in the front.

While nervously tugging on my bottom lip, I wait in the elevator to go up to the 11
th
floor that my firm is on when a tall man walks in. Instantly, I drop my hand from my lip and give him a shy smile hello before looking back down to the ground. He’s in his late thirties and when I look up I actually catch him checking me out.

Me!

He’s checking
me
out!

He winks and I give him a shy smile again before the doors open and I step off the elevator.

As the door closes I hear him say, “Hope to get stuck with you in the elevator soon.”

I get the feeling he was talking about more than just an elevator ride and I clench my thighs together at the thought of being pressed up against the wall of the elevator like some of my favorite scenes in my books.

A small smile creeps up my face as I walk past reception to head toward my office. Stefanie, our receptionist, jumps from her chair, “Excuse me ma’am. You can’t go…” she stops once she sees it’s me. “Kamii? Wow! Is that you? You, you look amazing!”

I beam from ear to ear, “Yes, it’s me. Thank you. A girl at the salon below us had a field day with me. I say she did a pretty good job.”

“She did an amazing job. You look gorgeous. I’m so glad to see that smile on your face, too.”

I sigh with a heavy heart. She’s right. I should smile more often. Stefanie knew me before I lost Nick so she knows more than anyone how much I’ve changed over the years.

“Thank you, Stef.” I turn to walk to my office with a new look and a new attitude on life. From this point on I promise to be different. Or at least try my hardest to be…