Nancy Thompson - Beauty Shop Tales

Gilda frowns around the chicken leg she’s biting into. “The Bells of St. Mary’s was a movie. It’s not actually a place where they ring bells.”

Lonnie Sue wrinkles her pert nose and flicks a strand of cropped eggplant-colored hair off her forehead. “I know that, Gilda, I mentioned it because it is a movie. You know, on account of Avril being in the movie business and all.”

Oh, no—

“Well, actually, I only worked on a few movies.”

Lonnie Sue, Gilda and Dani regard me with confused frowns.

“But you did do Julia Roberts’s hair. Right?” demands Gilda.

At the mention of Julia Roberts, the room quiets. Well, it doesn’t exactly fall hear-a-pin-drop silent, but those within earshot stop talking and crowd around.

“Well…” I squirm inwardly and wonder what exactly my mother has told them. Because the truth is, I only assisted the stylist who did Julia Roberts’s hair on one of the movies she made back in the nineties. I didn’t actually have my hands in her hair. And I only got that job because Chet realized how disillusioned I’d become with the whole Hollywood scene and thought if I could get in the middle of the business, I’d be happy. He had his work and loved it, so he called in a favor to get me the assistant’s job hoping I’d find my place among California’s beautiful.

After the Julia Roberts movie, I worked on a few minor projects—the Persephone picture, and a couple others…nothing notable. By then, I’d had it with the industry. If I felt like a fish out of water before Chet dropped me into the great Hollywood shark tank, well, after that I was the fish who wanted to dive out of the aquarium. Working in the movies wasn’t for me. It was too shallow, too many people willing to take off their clothes and sell their firstborn for a taste of fame. Not at all what a naive, wide-eyed, small-town girl thought it would be. I was pretty much at risk for being eaten alive.

At least by doing hair in salons I was able to build relationships with clients, change someone’s outlook by helping them become the best they could be. In the movies, the only reason anyone helped anyone was if it benefited them.

I had nothing in common with these people and it scared me because Chet thrived in this cardboard world. He couldn’t understand why I’d settle for working at a salon when “if you only tried a little harder, you could make your dream come true.”

I didn’t always feel this way about California. Chet and I had had big dreams. I was going to be a star and he was going to be my agent. That was our plan—to take Hollywood by storm.

But when the plan didn’t work out quite like we thought it would, he took a job at WKGM in the mail room and I tried to land another agent. This is where the irony sets in—I couldn’t get work, but they loved him so much that eventually they created the extreme sports segment for him.

For a girl from a small Florida beach town, at first glance Hollywood seemed like Fantasy Land. But it tends to trap people this way. In the beginning, it seduces, whispers sweet nothings—delicious, mouthwatering promises.

I endured one humiliating experience after another—I couldn’t crack the reputable agents because of my lack of experience and, okay, I’ll admit it was probably because of my lack of raw talent. The only agents who were interested in me were the ones who were out to scam or prostitute me. It’s amazing what some people will do for a taste of perceived stardom. I’m no prude, but I have my standards and it soon became apparent that I did not have what it took to conquer Hollywood. In return, Hollywood had nothing to offer me. There I stood with my nose pressed to the glass of this magnificent candy store, but it was closed, the lids set firmly on the jars, all the goodies stored out of my reach.

For a short time before I came to this sad realization, I thought Chet and I could be happy there.

Chet had became somewhat of a minor celebrity around town and was bitten by the bug. People started recognizing him on the street—“Hey! Aren’t you that extreme sports dude on TV? I saw your spot on the ASP Tahiti Surfing Tour. Righteous, dude!”

Fame, minor as it was, was like a drug to him. The more recognition he got, the more he craved. The more remote the location the network sent him to—Fiji, Australia, Hawaii—the more he craved getting away. You know how I feel about flying. So I stayed behind, focusing on how everything would get better once we had a baby.

That was before I knew a baby was out of the question.

“So what’s Julia Roberts like?” A voice from the crowd pulls me back, and I realize I don’t even know who asked the question.

“Umm…she’s very nice. Very down to earth.” This is not a lie. I was in close enough proximity that I could ascertain that she’s quite pleasant. It’s the other people in the industry who weren’t so wonderful.

“So will you fix me up with her?” Bucky Farley guffaws.

Someone utters, “Get a life, Farley.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“Who else did you work on?” asks Lonnie Sue, all wide-eyed.

“You know, actually, I didn’t—”

“Back away, everyone.” My mother shoulders her way through the throng with a plate to rival Gilda’s. “Let her eat her dinner in peace.”

She sits down next to me as if she’s settled into her throne. “Avril’s home to stay, so you’ll have plenty of time to hear all the Hollywood stories. In fact, why don’t y’all book an appointment and get your hair done by our very own beauty operator to the stars and hear about it then?

“In the meantime, grab yourselves some of Maybell Jennings’s chocolate cake. It’s so good on the lips, it’s worth carrying it around on the hips.”

As the knot of people breaks apart, Lonnie Sue eyes Mama’s plate and then bites into a celery stick. “Chocolate cake. Ha. With this thyroid of mine if I even look at cake, I’ll pack on five pounds.” She pats her belly. “I already have years of Maybell’s cakes to contend with.”

Mama smiles, then closes her eyes as she savors her first bite of deviled egg.

“Mmmm…what more could a girl want?” She reaches over and pats my leg. “Good food and my darlin’ girl. I got everything I need right here.”

I glance around the beauty shop, letting its familiarity seep into my bones like a balm. Everything is neat and in its functional place. Mama hasn’t redecorated since she opened the place back in seventy-six. But it’s clean and painted. Nothing looks too worn or in disrepair.

Someone has yanked down the white sheets I saw hanging when we drove by. As it turns out, they weren’t drapes after all, only a temporary prop to curtain off what was brewing inside, so Mama could drive me down Main Street without ruining the surprise. True to form, Tess Mulligan doesn’t miss a thing.

“I really never thought I’d see you back here.” Dani wrinkles her tanned, freckled nose and looks down at her hands. “I mean, I’m glad you’re back, but, well, you know…I guess if I ever got out of here and made it to California I wouldn’t want to come back.”

I shrug and so does she, nervously flipping her long, straight golden-brown hair over her right shoulder. With that too-long fringe of bangs sweeping across her tanned forehead, she still looks like the natural, pretty beach girl she was when we were in high school. Only a little spent and worn around the edges…

I try to look in her blue eyes rather than at the ring of bruise, but it’s hard to keep my gaze from wandering. Mama never says much about Dani. We weren’t very close in school. But I’m surprised she never mentioned Dani coming in with a shiner. I make a mental note to ask her about it. Not simply to gossip, but to see if she needs help.