[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
Chapter Twenty Six - June 23

Whoever thinks planning a wedding is hard should try getting last minute wedding things done and try to get settled into a new place. When Nick had mentioned temporary housing, I had pictured a small little two bedroom house. What I hadn’texpected was a house where you had to ring in at a gate to get in and a pool large enough to be home to the U.S. Olympic swim and dive teams.

“Not bad,” Nick had said lightly as he lifted Brooklyn out of her car seat. The paparazzi were stuck about a mile and a half back at the gate.

“Not bad?” I had repeated. “This place is huge.”

As we walked inside, I was immediately reminded of the place Nick used to film House of Carters. Nick seemed to echo my thoughts.

“It’s a little much, isn’t it?” Nick finally said. I nodded.

“Well, it’s only temporary,” he added.

With the help of my mom and Michael we managed to get Brooklyn’s nursery, her clothes, and some of our own clothes brought over. The only thing missing was my car.

“I’m sorry, it’s going to be a few more days,” Michael said apologetically. “We’re making sure nothing’s been tampered with and it’s okay to drive.”

“It better not have been tampered with,” I said with a sigh. I loved my car. It had been my Valentine’s Day present from Nick. Plus, it was yellow.

Luckily, on the third day of our relocation, I stood at the door watching as Michael pulled up in my Nissan Pathfinder. He unrolled the window as I ran up to the car.

“So it’s okay?” I asked. He grinned.

“I wouldn’t be driving it if it had a bomb strapped to it,” he said lightly. He got out and handed me the keys. I couldn’t hide my happiness; I hugged him tighly.

“Thank you,” I said. He smiled down at me. He was as tall as Nick. In fact, he looked a lot like Nick if Nick was almost sixty and had brown eyes.

“No problem. If you need anything else let me know, okay?”

I nodded. “Do you need a ride back?”

He shook his head. He turned and I followed his gaze. My mom was literally creeping up the driveway in what I assumed was Michael’s car. I could see how tightly she was gripping the wheel.

“She hates driving in Tampa,” he mused. I nodded.

“Traffic’s not her thing.”

“Obviously long driveways aren’t her thing either.”

We laughed as she braked hard to a stop. She scrambled out of the car like it was on fire.

“Hi mom,” I said, trying to hide my laughter.

“Drivers are nuts here,” my mom complained. She handed Michael his keys and gave me a hug.

“You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah we’re settled in as much as possible. I’ve only gotten lost in the house twice today.”

Mom looked at the house and shook her head. At that moment Nick came to the door with Brooklyn. Mom’s face lit up.

For the next fifteen minutes, we all played pass the baby. Finally, I looked at my watch and glanced at my mom apologetically.

“I’ve got to go,” I said.

“Where are you going?”

“I have a hair appointment.”

“For the wedding?”

I nodded. “Yeah they’re going to recolor it and then we’re going to play around with style.”

Mom smiled. “Can I come?”

As much as I love my mom, she was a nightmare at the hairdressers. But, she was the mother of the bride and she had already been left out of helping me pick out my wedding dress.

I nodded. “Sure.”

I gave Nick and Brooke a hug and kiss goodbye. Michael shook Nick’s hand and gave me a hug before getting into his car. Before he pulled away he rolled down his window.

“We still on for tomorrow night?” he asked my mom. She beamed and nodded. With a grin and a wave he turned his car around and headed off down the driveway.

“Geesh, mom. I’m going to have to schedule months in advance if I ever need you to babysit,” I teased. She rolled her eyes.

“It’s not like that,” she said lightly.

“Hmm. So you still like him now even though he’s packing a gun?”

Mom laughed. “He’s a nice guy.”

I drove the mile and a half down the drive and buzzed myself out. As I turned onto the street, I glanced over at my mom. She had a dreamy look on her face.

“You know he kind of looks like Nick. He’s got that tan, blonde, tall thing going on.”

Mom blushed. “That’s ridiculous. He has brown eyes.”

“Well three out of four ain’t bad.”

We both laughed.

-------------------------------------------------------

“So we’re doing an all over color and then we’re going to figure out a style. Right?”

I nodded. My stylist was in her late twenties, extremely short, and had one of those smiles that looked like she was trying way too hard.

“What color are you going with?” my mom asked.

“I’m going with just an all over natural dark brown.”

“No blonde highlights?”

“No.”

“But you look so good with highlights.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. “Mom, I have no time to maintain highlights. Maybe when Brooke’s, oh I don’t know, fifteen, I’ll have time to take care of my hair again."

“But it’s an outdoor wedding. You should look sun kissed.”

“I’m not worried about the kiss part.”

Mom sighed. “It’s your wedding.”

My stylist showed me a book with hair samples. I picked out one as close to my natural hair color as possible.

“Alright, I’m gonna go mix this. I’ll be right back.”

She walked off towards the back and I picked up a bridal magazine. I had no idea what I wanted my hair to look like.

“You’re not going to have it all pulled up are you?” my mom asked.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I said.

“It looks so pretty down.”

“But it might be windy. I don’t want to eat hair while I’m trying to say my vows.”

Before mom had a chance to respond, my stylist came back. I returned to the magazine as she began to apply the color.

“What are you going to do with your hair for the wedding?” I asked, deciding a change of subject was in order.

“I don’t know…” my mom said thoughtfully.

“You want highlights while you’re here?”

“Oh, I’m too old for highlights.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not too old. You need to look sun kissed.”

I saw mom’s smile in the mirror. “Where did you learn to be a smartass?”

“From you.”

“I’m proud.”

We managed to flag over another stylist and fifteen minutes later my mom’s hair was being pulled through a cap for highlighting. My stylist finished putting on my color and set the timer.

“I’ll be back to check on you in twenty minutes,” she said. She handed me another magazine.

“Feel free to mark any that look like possibilities.”

Now the one thing about bridal magazines is that most of the dresses and stylists come from either New York or Los Angeles which means that they’re always trying to stay three steps ahead on trends. As I looked at the various brides I realized that I wasn’t that concerned with being trendy. My mom leaned over at one point and tapped a picture.

“You don’t want peacock feathers sticking out of the back of your head?”

I laughed. “Shut up.”

In the back of my mind I had a teeny tiny idea of what I might want done to my hair. My dress was simple and elegant and I wanted to mimic that with my hair style. I pictured the sides of my hair pulled up in a simple twist and the rest of my hair curled softly down my back. To make it seem more “beachy” I thought we could incorporate a small white or yellow rose as well.

I was trying to figure out how to describe what I was thinking about so that there could be no mistaking, when my timer went off. It was hard to believe it had been twenty minutes already. My stylist was nowhere in sight. Mom had just walked over to the dryer to speed up her process.

I waited for a couple more minutes. Finally I stood and approached another stylist.

“My timer went off,” I said.

“Who was working on you?”

“Becky.”

“Okay, one minute.”

I returned to my seat and tapped my foot. Usually I wasn’t so antsy but something just looked wrong with the color crème. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Finally my stylist came in, a soda from McDonald’s in hand.

“Sorry, the line was wicked long.”

She picked up a goopy strand and a towel and began to rub. The look on her face was nothing compared to the look on mine.

“Why’s it blue?” I said quickly. She didn’t answer. She picked up another strand and rubbed.

“Why’s it BLUE!?” I asked again, panicking.

“We need to get you under the sink. NOW.”

Every eye in the salon was on me...except mom who was oblivious with a magazine pressed up to her face and the drier blowing in her ear. I quickly sat down at the sink and my stylist began to wash.

I tried to tell myself that this was all just a little ‘whoops’. After a little toner my hair would be a beautiful shade of dark brown and we could get on with the styling.

No harm done.

I was under the rinse longer than I had ever been in my entire life. I was hoping that was a good sign, but those hopes were shattered when I heard my mom’s voice.

“Oh my GOD! Her hair is blue.”

My stylist seemed to give up at that point. Grabbing a towel she wrapped it tightly around my head. I felt like I was doing the execution walk as we headed back to the styling chair. I sat down and as she undid the towel I let out a scream.

My hair wasn’t just blue…it was bright blue.

“How did this happen?” I screeched.

“One of the dyes must have been mislabeled,” Becky explained. I looked up at her.

“I could see it if this was just a shade or two off,” I said, my voice rising higher and higher. “But this is blue. BLUE! I’m getting married in a week and my hair is BLUE!”

“It’s okay,” she said, picking up my hair and giving it a shake. It only made my hair seem bluer.

“It’s not going to be okay until it’s dark brown,” I said. “Dry me up and let’s go.”

“I can’t dye your hair again so quickly,” she said nervously. “Your hair will fry.”

“I can’t walk around with blue hair!”

By this time my mom had gotten her own hair rinsed and was sitting there getting it blow-dried. I could have killed her. She looked sun-kissed and I looked like a Smurf.

“I can dye it again in maybe two days,” Becky said. “Just two days.”

“I can’t live with blue hair for forty-eight hours,” I said miserably. Besides, I didn’t want her touching my hair. She had come highly recommended, but this wasn’t just a small mistake.

A half hour later mom and I left the salon. My mom looked fifteen years younger, I looked like a thug. My hair was wrapped up in a do-rag. I got in the car and fought back tears.

“Honey, I’m sorry,” my mom said, all teasing aside. “But, I’m sure this will work out. Remember when you dyed your own hair orange?”

I sniffled. I was fifteen and had dreams of being a blonde. I tried to go from almost black hair to blonde. For three weeks I could have given Carrot Top a run for his money. But the kids at school had thought it was cool; I was being ‘rebellious.’ I was past being rebellious.

I was a bride with blue hair.

My mom did most of the talking as I drove back to her condo. I dropped her off and she leaned back into the car.

“It’ll be fine, honey. Don’t worry.”

I gave a half-hearted wave. “Love you, mom.”

The drive home wasn’t pleasant. At one point I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a huge hunk of bright blue hair that had worked itself loose from the do-rag. I was hoping to get in the house and get my hair under a hat before Nick saw, but of course my luck was at rock bottom. I couldn’t even get up the driveway; the sight of a women in a do rag was obviously cause for concern. Before I could explain to the monitoring station, Nick’s voice came over the intercom.

“What’s with the rag? Did you go to an urban beauty shop?”

I sighed. “Nick, can you just buzz me in?”

“You look like you’re going to gun down the place.”

“Nick!”

The gate swung open and I did the slow creep up the driveway. I had no doubt that Nick would be waiting for me at the front door.

I was right. I stepped out of the car and walked up the steps, my head down. I tried to walk past him, but he grabbed the do-rag. Blue hair spilled out everywhere. Nick let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a laugh.

“Holy shit, your hair’s blue.”

Nick tried to hide his grin. Tears sprang to my eyes again.

“What happened?”

“The hairdresser mixed my color wrong.”

“That’s an understatement.”

I felt a tear fall and begin its descent down my cheek. Nick wiped it away, his eyes softened.

“It’s not that bad,” he said. I looked at him doubtfully. He picked up a piece of my hair; I could tell he was struggling not to fall on the floor laughing.

“You look like that one hot chick from Avatar.”

“Nick…”

“Or Smurfette. I always had a crush on Smurfette.”

“Nick…”

He pulled me to him and kissed me gently.

“So does this mean we’re going to have to change our wedding colors?” he asked lightly. I couldn’t help it; I cracked a smile.

“I can get it fixed in two days.”

Nick smiled. “Good. But in the mean time…I’ve never slept with a Smurf. You game?”

“There is absolutely no way I’m sleeping with you with blue hair.”

Nick grinned. The man loved a challenge. “No way?” he repeated. I backed up towards the stairs, shaking my head. He followed me, walking like a lion stalking prey.

“Absolutely not.”

“Even if I do my sexy dance?”

I laughed. “No sexy dance.” I began to walk backwards up the stairs, keeping my eyes trained on him.

His body began to move to an invisible beat. It was the same sultry move he used on stage when they sang Incomplete. I bit my lip.

“Not going to work,” I said. I hopped up two steps.

“Oh, it’ll work.”

I shook my head, but as his ran his hand down his stomach suggestively I knew, blue hair and all, that it was going to work.