Plus, it looked cool.
I didn’t need to waste my breath explaining this. I wasn’t prime rib when it came to my looks, and I preferred to ignore them rather than waste time trying to put on swan feathers. Despite my hesitations—and better judgment—here I was at the most expensive spa in town, sitting in the hot seat between Haircut Holly and Clover. “I’m fine if you take a little off my sides.” I ran my fingers over my sideburns, trying to distract their attention from my face. I was nervous to see their reactions when they realized all their efforts to pretty me up would be wasted on my ol’ country boy face.
“Beau.” Clover’s words sounded extra choppy when she explained, “We are not asking for your opinion.” She patted my shoulder. “I say this with a measure of empathy, but you’re going to feel so much better once this is done.” Turning to the stylist, she talked over me. “I was thinking of a total buzz. Just chop it all off, so we can see what’s underneath and start fresh.”
I didn’t like how she was speaking ‘bout me like I wasn’t even here. “Look, Cloverbud,” I said, proudly smirking at the new name I had coined for her. “There is no way I’m gonna walk around bald until nature tells me it’s time.”
Clover’s gaze focused on me until I was done talking, but instead of replying, she looked back at Holly and said, “Yep, buzz it all. Beard too. And lots of exfoliation.” Her pointed index finger waved over me like she was drawing an air map, with notes on my body. “Scrub behind his ears. That neck dirt collar needs to go too. His nails need something and,” with her last breath, she sputtered out, “Moisturizers and sunblock, too.”
“I don’t need sunblock. My skin’s tough as leather,” I cut in, but again they ignored me and suddenly, I knew what it felt like to be one of those toy poodles at the groomers.
Holly wrapped a cape around me at the same time she pumped up my chair with her foot pedal, saying, “Relax, Beau. You are a CEO of a billion-dollar company. It’s time you level up and stop acting like you’re still the guy behind the shovel. You’re going to be a new man when I’m done with you.” She handed me a hurricane glass with a pink drink and an umbrella sticking out the top. “Try some of our special dragon fruit white tea.”
The only reason I took the stupid drink was because she shoved it in my hand, but I held it out away from me, trying not to catch girly vibes. “I don’t drink anythin’ pink.”
“Just try it,” she urged, her red lips curled into a sweet smile. “It’ll help with your skin because it has collagen in it.”
“I can get my collagen from chicken wings.” I snorted, and reluctantly—to get her off my case—I took a tiny sip like I was being asked to drink sour milk. My brows quickly rose as I was pleasantly surprised by the fruity zing that tickled my tongue. Refreshing and hydratin’, and it made me want to wiggle my toes.
I wasn’t giving into this girly drink, though. Holding it away from my body as though it was about to bite me, I had the perfect view of it. It looked as amazin’ as it had tasted. I could see the bubbles spiraling up on the sides, calling to me.
Maybe since I was already holding onto it, I could take another small sip?
So that it would not be so heavy.
Holly was already getting happy with her clippers and paying no attention to what I was doing, so I took another generous sip.
Okay, I might have chugged it when I thought she wasn’t lookin’, but that pink drink was the best thing I'd tasted all year. There was a reason I didn’t trust pink drinks! That stupid sparkle drink relaxed me too much, and I became completely compliant in this makeover, even chuckling happily when I felt the tickle of the clipper on my neck. But my eyes sprang open wide by the tug of the cape unsnapping from my neck as Holly whipped it off, proclaiming, “Tada!”
I jolted, taking in my reflection in the mirror. A young, chiseled face I hadn’t ever seen in my life stared back at me. If I had to grade it, I’d call it good as Sunday brisket. “I don’t believe it.” I touched the side of my cheek, effortlessly gliding over the surface as it was smooth as a baby’s backside. “You washed off my tan.”
The corners of Holly’s lips curled up and her tongue peeked through like it was holding back a chuckle. “You could call it a tan. It’s almost the same thing.”
My eyes were so wide, you’d think they’d fall out of the sockets, as disbelief washed through me. I walked right up to the mirror and stroked my clean-shaven face as if I was afraid I was in a dream. “How’d you do this?”
“We buzzed it all down and that was underneath. Who knew you were so handsome?” She was still grinnin’ at me like a frog in a basket of flies, when she handed me a boutique shopping bag stuffed to the top with tiny boxes. “I put together some skin, hair, and body care products for you.”
I took the bag, still holding my face up to the mirror, switching sides, trying to find something that reminded me of my old self.
There wasn’t anything.
She had been right.
I was a new man.
A darn good lookin’ one too.
“I don’t believe it.” I looked back at Cloverbud, as she had been silent this whole time while she stood in the background. “Did you know I was going to clean up this good?”
Her eyes rounded like she was holding in a deadly fart, and her words came out quieter than normal. “Trust me. I’m as shocked as you are.”
I looked back at the mirror again to make sure my reflection hadn’t changed. I couldn’t stop rubbing my face. It was so smooth and sleek.
“Well,” Cloverbud started, as she moved back toward the door. “We’d better get going if we want to shop for a whole new wardrobe before lunch.”
To be honest, after yesterday, I had been doubting my decision to hire Clover. After seeing my transformation—that was all her idea—I thought maybe she knew what she was doing? We had just gotten off on the wrong foot. So, without offering any rebuttal, I strapped on a jovial smile and followed her, cheering, “Let’s go, Cloverbud.”
Holding up the annoying pointy finger of hers, she snapped, “Don’t call me that.”
