Save Me(WITSEC #2)(12)

“You’re nervous?” I asked as I pulled in and parked in front of Mystic Beauty Salon.

“I’m a little nervous about the party,” she replied. “I’ve never been to one unless you count birthday parties.”

“Same.” Was I nervous? Not really. I was kind of looking forward to it. Shayla had been to more parties than I could count. She’d even risked the wrath of our parents every time.

We walked into the Mystic Beauty and upbeat music greeted us. The salon was decorated in bright white and gold.

“How can I help you?” a lady wearing a black apron over all black clothes asked from behind a tall, white marble counter.

“We’re here to see my cousin Maranda,” Isabelle said.

Not a moment later, a slightly older version of Isabelle came out of a door behind the desk. She and Isabelle had the same dirty-blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Hey, Izzy,” the older version of Isabelle greeted her. She was also wearing a black apron over black clothes. Her hair was styled flawlessly, and her red nails had geometric designs on them.

“We’re here,” Isabelle said and gestured to me. “This is my new friend Shiloh. We’re going to get our hair done, too, if that’s alright?”

“Nice to meet you, Shiloh,” Maranda said with a smile. “Adding hair to the schedule is no problem. I’m training a new girl, so I have extra help today.” She tilted her head to the back. “Let’s go get started.”

Isabelle and I followed her further into the salon and Maranda had us sit in two twirling leather chairs in front of brightly lit vanities. Not a second later, another black-apron-wearing girl with a pixie cut showed up and stood next to Maranda.

“This is Lexi,” Maranda introduced her and then explained to Lexi what we were here for.

Lexi smiled at us and moved to stand behind Isabelle’s chair.

Maranda moved behind mine and ran her fingers through my long lilac hair. “Izzy said we were doing color today?”

Before I could answer, Isabelle said, “Are you going to touch up your roots or do you want to do something totally different?”

I pulled on a strand of my hair. Was it time for a change? Shayla never stayed with the same hair color very long. “I think I might want to do something different. What color do you suggest?”

Isabelle grinned as she looked over my hair.

“What about cherry red?” Maranda suggested as she continued to play with my hair. “You have the perfect complexion for it.”

“Ooh, I like that,” Isabelle said, nodding.

I tried to imagine what I’d look like and shrugged. “Alright. Red it is.”





I couldn’t stop looking at my hair in the mirror as I applied my makeup. It was so different, and I loved it.

My afternoon with Isabelle had been uplifting. We’d both talked and laughed a lot as we’d gotten to know each other. Because we both had long and thick hair, we hadn’t been able to stop giggling at all the foils that we’d had on our heads as we’d gotten our nails worked on. I’d chosen a matte black for my nails because my new hair had been giving me a dark, edgy vibe. I’d wanted to be brave and embrace it. Isabelle had had her nails painted neon green with black stars, which surprisingly matched her hair. Lexi had made the suggestion that Isabelle go with neon green on the top and black on the very bottom layer instead of dyeing it all pink. Isabelle had been all for it and I’d liked the idea of green and black a lot more than pink.

After our hair and nails had been done, we’d had just enough time to run across the street to the mall to find something to wear for tonight. Isabelle had found an outfit right away. I, on the other hand, had struggled for a little bit. I’d kept eyeing this black dress, but I’d kept talking myself out of even touching it. The style was so different from what I normally wore. Then Isabelle had caught me looking at it.

She had grabbed the dress off the rack and put it in my hand. “Go try it on,” she had said with a gentle nudge toward the dressing room. I’d put it on, and the moment I’d stepped out of the dressing room, her mouth had fallen open. “Oh wow! You look like Jessica Rabbit and a vampire had a baby.”

“Is that a good thing?” I’d asked, laughing.

She had nodded. “You look sexy.”

“Sexy,” I had repeated as I’d smoothed my hands down the front of the skintight, black fabric.

Isabelle had frowned. “Have you ever tried to look sexy before?”

I’d shaken my head.

Sure, I bought superhero lingerie. I had never bought it with the intention of feeling sexy—which I was sure a lot of women did, and that was fantastic. For one, I loved superheroes and to have something that symbolized that brought me a little bit of joy. And two, it had been my first step to living more bravely. Yes, my eccentric lingerie was hidden under my clothes, but I had to start somewhere.

“I’ve never tried to be sexy. To be honest, I wouldn’t know where to begin,” I had admitted to her.

Isabelle had stepped closer and turned me toward the mirror in the dressing room. “How does this dress make you feel? Because that’s what really matters. Not what you’re trying to be, but how you feel in it.”

Like I’ve missed out on so much. “Confident.” The corner of my mouth had tugged up. “Sexy.”