Page 56 of The Devil’s Feather

Dee: he’ll understand

Dee: jk tho. music man isnt my type

Dee: ur rite tho. i like him. dont trust him but i like him

Me: baby steps. ill take it

“Who are you talking to?” Rafael peered over my aproned shoulder.

My stylist, a short, pale woman named Ji-an with a cherry-red balayage, wisely moved her foiling to the other side of my head to make room for him. She’d already done an excellent job taming my grown-out layers.

“Nosey! It’s Dee.”

On a wicked whim, I turned the screen so he could see the picture she sent. His eyes widened, and he walked away.

“Oh, come on, that’s funny,” I called after him.

My phone buzzed again.

Rafael: Do you know how many times I have been sent that fucking hamster?

The foils kept me from going to him.

Me: im sorry! i didnt mean to upset you!

Rafael: I am not upset. Maybe a little too sensitive about dick jokes. It is objectively funny.

“Your boyfriend has the best hair I’ve ever seen. It’s so unfair. Why do men get everything?” Ji-an grumbled.

“He really does.”

Boyfriend. What were we, exactly? Did we need to have that conversation? In past relationships, I’d always felt unsettled until we established labels, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter in this one.

While my hair processed, Rafael sat in the waiting area—out of place, like an ancient god among the colorful magazines and pop art. Eyes closed, head slightly tilted, he listened intently to the music playing over the speaker; an alt rock song I didn’t recognize. His left hand played along on an invisible keyboard. From the pinch of his brow, he didn’t approve. It seemed like a decent song to me.

Toner, rinse, and blow dry, and I hardly recognized myself in the mirror. I’d never lifted my hair to that level of icy platinum on my own.

Platinum. As in blonde. Oh no.

I twisted to look at Rafael again. He stared hard at my hair.

“If we just did a single shade of blue today, how long would that take?” I asked.

Ji-an frowned, glancing at her watch. “Well, that will go over the appointment time…”

“I will pay the extra,” Rafael said quickly, his voice carrying across the room. “Whatever it takes. And I will double your tip.”

She nodded. “Ok, I can work with that. I don’t have anyone after you.” To me, she whispered, “Where did you find him? Does he have a brother?”

“My man is one of a kind, sorry.” My man. I liked that. “And I found him in a bookstore.”

I blew him a kiss. He laid a hand over his heart.

Two and a half hours later, I walked out into the dimming sunset with deep blue hair that Ji-an promised would wash out brighter. She’d snuck in a purple streak at the front and tips too.

“Thank you for doing that,” Rafael said.

“Thank you for paying for it. My hair feels healthier than it has in a long time. Home-frying really isn’t the best option.”