A champagne flute had mysteriously appeared in his hand, and he tipped it in my direction. “Even better. I called the council president and made a case for you to have top billing. You’re the new keynote speaker.”
Speaker?My stomach dropped, but I managed to smile—I think—and force out a thanks. Because obviously I was supposed to feel grateful.
Nora leaned over the back of my chair. “Do you really want all thoselibrarianssaying you have dead hair?”
“Ahhh,fine.” I had bigger things to worry about now, anyway. Like my first speech.You’re the new Alexis, I reminded myself.Old mouse Alexis is the one with the fear of public speaking. You’ll be brave, or at least you’ll die trying, thus saving you from future speeches.I eyed my stylist. “You have my permission to trim and do a gloss treatment. But nothing else.”
“And add za layers.”
“Okay, fine—and add the layers. Butnothingelse, I mean it. Please.” I tried to look resolute, but shied away when she made uncomfortably long eye contact.
“I’m eighty percent certain she’s a vampire,” Logan said when all the stylists had disappeared. With the shaving cream cleaned off, I’d expected to find him baby-faced, but the stylist had merely sculpted the edges of his facial hair into perfectly straight lines. And it was justthe right length between a five-o’clock shadow and the beginnings of a beard—which, until now, I hadn’t realized was The Ideal Facial Hair.
“It’s his signature look,” Nora said, catching me staring. I jerked my eyes away and bit the inside of my mouth. “Polled the best out of all the options.” Oh, Logan haddefinitelyhad his appearance dissected a million ways.
“It’s my preferred look,” he corrected. “That’s why I wear it.”
“Sure.” Nora turned to me. “While I’ve got you captive, we’re going to run through some light media training.”
My stylist came back with a small cauldron of hair product and a paintbrush. “This is because of the press conference, isn’t it?”
Nora cocked a brow. “What do you think?”
I sighed. Well, Ihadwished for a training montage. And now with this Library Council speech, I needed all the help I could get.
“See,” Nora said, “what I just gave you is a perfect example of the kind of direct and pithy answer that works well with journalists.”
My stylist started painting white goo onto my hair. “Do you have to stick around for this?” I asked Logan. I was beginning to look like one of my mom’s long-haired cats after a bath. Meanwhile, Logan sat there freshly groomed, at what I had to admit was peak hotness.
“Oh, definitely.” He winked. “Nora says I need as many media refreshers as I can get.”
“Rule number one,” Nora said. “Always be respectful to reporters, but never feel indebted. Remember, they might intimidate you, but you’re doingthemthe favor. No need to suck up.”
“But don’t tell them when they’re being nitwits either,” Logan said. “Hurts their feelings, what few they have.”
“Come vith me to vash your hair,” said my stylist, and I stumbled behind her to the washroom, dropping my head back in a large black bowl with a hose attached.
“Never,everrepeat a question a reporter asks you.” Nora peered down at me from above the bowl. “Even if you’re trying to buy time. Especially if it’s a hostile question. Cause you know what they’ll do? Quote you, conveniently leaving out the question mark.”
Logan popped his head over the other side of the bowl. “That’s howDo you agree that you’re wildly unfit to be governor?gets turned into a viral news clip of you sayingI’m wildly unfit to be governor.”
“Got it,” I said, then winced as my stylist blasted my scalp with icy water.
“Keep things short,” Nora instructed, as I walked back to the hairdresser’s chair, wet head wrapped in a towel. “For God’s sake, don’t ramble. The less talking you do, the lower the odds you’ll say something wrong.”
“And it turns out no one really cares if you studied Hume in grad school and developed your own theory of skeptical progressive economics,” Logan said. And he was right, because as soon as he’d started talking, my eyes glazed over.
“Lastly,” Nora said, as my stylist pressed me down into the chair and started snipping, “if you’re trying to avoid answering a question, never sayNo comment. It makes you look shady. Always say,Thanks for the question. The campaign will get back to you.We never will, but it deflects the heat. Let’s practice.”
“Now?” I asked, distracted as the stylist snipped a disturbingly long piece of my hair.
Nora lunged in my face. “Alexis Stone, if we searched your browser historyright now, would we find your top-visited site is SoftRoundChonks.com, a blog devoted to pictures of chunky circular-shaped animals?”
“What?” I yelped. “How do youknowthat?”
“Wrong answer!” Nora cried, but luckily for me, the stylist turned the blow-dryer on full blast and Nora’s admonishment became literal hot air.
She must’ve cooled down during the ten minutes it took to dry my hair, because when my stylist floofed my crown and spun me around with a loud, “Much better, yes?” Nora clapped her hands. “You’re a sorceress.”
