“I was thinking black pants and shirt. It would look dashing with his frame.” Sadie had obviously put some thought into it. I was going to try to tell her I didn’t have anything like that when Karen jumped back in.
“He would need black wingtips, short heeled with a matching leather belt.” Karen examined me closer. “Maybe the shirt should be collarless with a hint of gray to offset the pants.”
“Ladies,” I said, a little exasperated, “I don’t own anything like that. I was just going to wear some khakis with a polo shirt.” Sadie shook her head and smiled.
“We’re going shopping, David. There’s no way I am going let you look like a dork.” Karen giggled at Sadie’s demand. I just sighed and agreed.
Sadie spent the better part of an hour with the crew, explaining the planned menu and how things worked. She explained the ‘Sugar Magnolia’ dinner bell and was adamant about the 4:00 time. Tom took notes and complemented Sadie on the cleanliness of the facility. He put her mind at ease and guaranteed her no one would leave hungry. He certainly seemed competent and I could tell Sadie thought so as well.
It took four police officers to get us out of the City Kitchen. We were able to make it out the back with limited exposure. A plain cloths officer, Roger Cummings, was assigned to drive us where we needed to go.
“So, you’re really going to sing at the Guns and Hoses?” Roger asked, after we escaped in his unmarked car.
“I never said I was going to sing,” I answered, trying not to sound ungrateful for the force’s help. Sadie looked at me, a little surprised. I had forgotten to tell her about the event.
“You got to,” Roger went on, “it’s the only reason my girlfriend is going to come. She hates the fights, but she adores you.” A felt my face flush again. It was only one talent contest. This was getting a little out of hand. I certainly didn’t deserve anyone’s admiration.
“You agreed to this?” Sadie asked. I looked over to her.
“Tony asked. I couldn’t say no, not with everything he was doing to help us out,” I explained. Sadie took my hand in hers.
“Us,” Sadie said softly. Some guilt leaked into my mind, memories of Amber. Sadie’s hand felt good in mine. I wasn’t sure if I should like it. My heart was beating faster than it should. “I’ll be there with you, singing or not.” She squeezed my hand with affection. God help me, I squeezed back.
Roger took us to a men’s shop downtown. An older woman waited on us, her hair turning gray in a classy manner, with name tag that said Sally. I felt like a mannequin as the ladies had me try on different pants and shirts. They discussed the results as if I wasn’t present and pretty much ignored my likes and dislikes. I tried on six pairs of shoes before Sadie was happy. Comfort was not one of the criteria she considered. I would have just picked a pair of nice brown cloth shoes if I had a choice in the matter. I had to admit, I did look pretty sharp in the mirror. I just didn’t think I could live up to the image staring back at me. Sadie was pleased so I agreed, as if I had much of a choice.
I pulled out my card as we approached the register. Sally spent some time ringing it all up and I wondered if I would need a second mortgage to pay for it all. She shook her head and smiled when I tried to hand her the credit card.
“We would like to donate the clothes Mr. Thaxton,” Sally said calmly, “for the City Kitchen.”
“You recognized us?” Sadie said with big smile.
“Not at first, that beard kinda threw me for a loop,” Sally said, matching Sadie’s smile.
“Thank you, and please call me David,” I said, genuinely touched by her generosity.
“You’re so welcome, David,” Sally said, “I really hope you remember us next time you shop.” The offer was laced with a fondness I didn’t deserve. I was happy my beard covered a good portion of my reddening cheeks. I was not designed for fame.
“Of course,” I stuttered. Sadie stifled a giggle and led me out the door.
The next stop was a hair salon. The beard was going to go, and with it, whatever I had left of my anonymity. Sadie was excited. I would have preferred if she just handed me a razor. My hair was long, but I had become comfortable with it. She wasn’t having any of it. For some reason, I was letting her run all over me. She was a formidable woman. I was sure Amber would have liked her. Amber would have never let me get so shaggy.
Cindy was my stylist, or so she said. She looked too young to be anything but an amateur. She had dyed blond hair combed incredibly straight with a sharp part on the left side. The hair stood in stark contrast to her dark black eyebrows.
“What are we doing to your hair today?” Cindy asked. Again, before I had a chance to answer, Sadie jumped in.
“First, let’s lose the beard and then…” I raised my hand sharply and gave Sadie a look. I didn’t want to, but I kind of felt I was losing myself. It was my head after all. “Sorry,” she said and covered her smile with her hand. I gathered my thoughts and realized I screwed up.
“Um… shave off the beard and…” I had no idea how I wanted my hair. I turned my head sideways and looked at it in the mirror. The shaggy dog look might be comfortable, but it looked like crap. I rolled my eyes, “and however she wants it.” I nodded my head weakly toward Sadie who was no longer covering her silly grin. I had put my foot down, directly into dog shit.
“Get it off the collar and ears,” Sadie kicked back in without missing a beat, “leave the sideburns down to about here.” She touched just in front of my ear sending an unexpected shiver down my neck, “Can you use a trimmer to layer it a bit, you know, business-like, but with a little modern style.” She had some kind of vision for my head. It had to be better than my vision. Suddenly, I had two women touching my head all over, discussing trimmer sizes and part positions. I was a mannequin again.
I am not ashamed to mention the fear I felt when Cindy came at me with the straight razor. I was white knuckling the arms of the chair and gritting my teeth as the her hand approached. The blade looked hellishly sharp and she looked virginally young. I didn’t move a millimeter as she dragged the blade up my neck. It was an agonizingly slow process and I prayed the whole time I wouldn’t see bright spurts of red liquid shooting up.
“I’m really quite good at this,” Cindy commented, when I inadvertently sucked in my breath, “it’s been a long time since I have cut off anyone’s nose.” Sadie laughed. I remained perfectly still. It turns out Cindy was right, she was very good at it. Not a nick or even a bad scrape. My nose was where it belonged when Cindy applied a hot towel to clean off the excess shaving cream. Cindy’s eyes went wide when she removed the towel.
“I know you.” Cindy’s smile grew. “You’re that promise guy.” I think my face was already red from the hot towel. At least I hoped so. I raised my finger to my lips and formed the international quiet symbol. “You’re the promise guy,” she repeated in a whisper. I nodded my head. “Can I get an autograph?” she asked. I rolled my eyes. Sadie thought the whole thing was hilarious. Cindy didn’t wait for an answer, she grabbed a marker and I ended up signing her blow dryer. It was my first autograph, and hopefully my last.
Cindy went to work on my hair. Large clumps were falling down onto the cape she had covered me with. I felt she was touching me more than necessary. Her fingers would slide along my neck and up behind my ear. She would lightly fluff my hair as she cut, her fingers not flicking, but combing along my scalp, almost petting me. At first I thought they were accidental. Their frequency increased and it began to feel like foreplay.
Sadie moved closer to me, examining the length being cut off. She absently placed her hand over mine. Like magic, Cindy stopped the stroking. It was some kind of secret female nonverbal communication. Sadie stepped back again, but Cindy never returned to the caressing. It was strictly hair cutting from then on and I was thankful for it.
I was able to stop the hair gel. Both ladies thought it would be perfect finale. I thought it would be a pain in the ass. I didn’t want to spend my mornings fussing with my hair. If my hair wanted to jump out of place, well that’s everyone else’s problem. I can’t see it anyway.
“You really have to stop flirting with every girl you meet,” Sadie said once we had returned to the car. I heard Roger snicker up front.
“I didn’t do anything to encourage her,” I claimed, “I’m just happy it stopped.”
“You look a lot younger without the beard,” Roger stated in the rear view mirror. I rubbed my hand along my newly shaved face. I had to admit it was nice to finally get rid of the beard. Sadie ran the back of her hand softly along my jaw.
“It certainly feels a lot younger,” Sadie commented. Roger’s eyes whipped back to the road in embarrassed reflex. The hand was an intimate gesture. It didn’t seem like it affected Sadie that way. She just smiled and turned her head to look out the window. My thoughts turned to Amber, then back to Sadie and the back of her hand. I closed my eyes and tried to see Amber. It was hard, the image imperfect and my thoughts were muddling it up. My memory was such a weak tool.
Roger brought the car to the back of the hotel, the venue for the banquet. We entered through an employee only door where a tall brunette in a business skirt and white blouse greeted us.
“Welcome Ms. Millstead, Mr. Thaxton,” the woman said confidently, “I’m Tammy Kardigan, the manager. We have adjoining rooms prepared for you on the seventh floor. I think it’s best we head up there to discuss the preparations. It’s a madhouse out front.” She didn’t wait for a response as she took us to the service elevator.