“Good. It’s demeaning for both of us.”
“But I will,” she continues, undaunted. “Please, please pretty please with a cherry on top, let’s go to Jeebie’s.”
“Hana.”
“I won’t let them do anything drastic, I swear.”
“Why do you want to go so badly?”
She blinks. “Because this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience with some of the top stylists in a country famous for its style? They’ll make us so hot.”
“We’re hot now,” I remind her.
“Yeah, but exceptionally hot. We’ll be hottified.”
“That’s not a word.” Despite my quibbles, I admit that sounds kind of appealing. Also, it will make Hana happy. “All right. We can go.”
She claps her hands. “Shopping first.”
Thirty-Seven
Hana sips her coffee as I stretch my shoulders, in pain from carrying about twenty shopping bags. I’m sitting with my back to the window because across the street is a huge billboard featuring StarLune dressed in jeans and white T-shirts. Jihoon has followed me around this entire morning, a ghostly presence that pops up on drink bottles, skin care, portable face fans, and digital advertising screens. Name any item at random and somewhere in the city, there’s a StarLune branded version or a StarLune ad for it. After the first seven or eight sightings, I’d become somewhat inured, but I draw the line at having his billboard in my face while I chug an iced matcha latte.
“I need to buy some luggage,” I say, nudging a bag with my foot.
She stirs her caramel drink. “Leave your old clothes here.”
“I can’t…” I trail off because I could. After dressing for the Yesterly and Havings ecosystem for years, it was pleasant to be able to contemplate buying a hot-pink shirt. I didn’t because it was ugly, but for so long, I’d simply not thought it was an option.
I like having options. Why had I let myself get so constricted? Phoebe might not have a lot in her bank account, but at least she’s had experiences. All I have is the memory of my billable hours.
“We’d better get going,” Hana says, waving to a black car on thestreet. We haul the bags over, and Yeong leaps out to help us load them into the trunk. They almost fill the back of the SUV.
“He says it looks like we had a successful trip,” Hana translates.
I already have my eyes closed. Shopping was exhausting. “Online from now on.” Or I think that’s what comes out, because I’m already falling asleep.
Hana shakes me awake when we arrive at Jeebie’s, its glass storefront lit with a pinkish glow. Walking into the salon is like entering an alternate world where very different standards of beauty apply and the norm is so far to the right of the bell curve, it’s off the graph. Dazzling people mill around. Perfectly applied eye makeup abounds. Hair is every color of the rainbow. Even Hana stops dead in the doorway to take it in.
Once we recover, we get our bearings, and Hana approaches the front desk, which is at least ten feet long but only a foot wide and made of some resinous polymer that shifts under the light like mercury. I expect the receptionist to be aloof and judgmental, but she gives us a wide smile and a bow as she greets us.
“They have an English-speaking stylist for you,” Hana says as a woman in a white robe leads us upstairs.
“This place looks very expensive,” I say, watching a guy with bone structure made of razors sleeping in a chair as a man bleaches his hair.
“Jihoon’s paying. He has an account here.”
Of course he does. A woman comes out with cotton-candy-pink hair tied into a high twisted braid that reminds me of a style I’d see on the Whos of Whoville. She’s dressed in matching pink, with pink lips and eye makeup, and looks confidently incredible. I have a momentary daydream of walking into Yesterly and Havings with that bubblegum look. Would Richard pretend not to notice, too well-bred to comment on my appearance, or would I be sent home to change like a rebellious high schooler?
“I’m Nayeon,” the stylist says before leading me to a chair in asmall room. She sits me down and leans on the counter, head to the side like an intelligent bird. “What can I do for you today?”
“I’m not sure,” I say honestly.
She purses her lips. “We can work with that,” she reassures me. “Is this for an event, or do you want a change?”
“I have an event tonight, but I also want a change.” I wrinkle my nose. “Sorry. I’m not helping.”
Nayeon laughs. “It’s hair and makeup. It can seem like a huge deal, but it’s not. It’s transient, a way to play. You can wash your face later. You can grow out your hair or wear a hat.”
