Bad Hair 8 - Day Perish By Pedicure (3 page)

“You got that right.”

“Where do you live? Have you been to Fort Lauderdale before?”

“I’m from Atlanta. You wouldn’t want to show us out-of-towners a good time while we’re here, would you? I’m looking for, like, a personal tour guide.”

Marla laughed. “You’ve already tried that line. Sorry, but my fiancé’s former in-laws are visiting, and he expects me to help entertain them. Between coming to the show, working in my salon, and housing all these guests, I’ll be lucky if I have space to breathe.”

“Well, that sucks.”

Marla noticed his glance toward the regional manager. “What about Jan? You could always go sight-seeing with her, or someone else from Luxor. Ask Georgia. She’s looking to have some fun while she’s here.”

“Georgia is a blast, so maybe I’ll do that. As for Jan, she wouldn’t go out with me.” Tyler’s tone had turned sullen. “Our regional manager is too high-and-mighty after her promotion.”

“Oh?”

“I qualified for her position, and I should have gotten it, but Chris passed me over. Watch out for that one. If you cross her path, she’ll make you pay.”

“Who do you mean? Christine or Janice?”

“Chris.” Tyler frowned before leaning forward and lowering his voice. “I won’t give her what she wants, no matter how hard she tries to crush me. And sooner or later the tables will get turned, and she’ll be sorry.”

With those words hanging in the air, he stalked off, leaving Marla alone. She stared after him for a few minutes, then decided to query Jan about what he’d said. The redhead had just broken off from a cluster of people and was heading toward the hors d’oeuvres table. Grabbing a plate, Marla slid next to her.

“I love your hair color,” she said, eyeing the vibrant hue. “It goes so well with your eyes.”

“Thanks. I like your mahogany, too. It suits your olive complexion.”

“I may grow my hair longer. I’m tired of this length.” Marla helped herself to some stuffed mushrooms, spring rolls, spinach wraps, and carrot sticks. “I’m hoping to learn more about Luxor’s color products when we prep the models. What’s really hot this season?” She figured that Jan would be willing to talk about the company, and then Marla could ease her into discussing the personalities involved.

Jan raised an arched eyebrow. “We’ve got a great look for a brunette who comes into your salon as a natural level five. You can take her to a rich red-mahogany. Or we have a technique called ‘diffuse highlights’ for someone who is more conservative. You apply three different colors of the same tonal family. This leaves some depth at the scalp, meaning there isn’t any grow-out factor. The ends are lighter, so it will look as though the sun colored the hair. If you have a medium blonde, we have a warm gold, a cognac blonde, or a vintage amber for variety. My favorites are the coppery reds.”

Marla gestured to a couple of free seats at a small round table. She had trouble juggling her wineglass and plate until they were able to sit. “Is the UV protection in the coloring agents or the reconstructive treatments?” Laying a napkin on her lap, she popped a stuffed mushroom into her mouth.

“Both, but of course we’re going to recommend our color-protection system. That’s where you can bring up the point-of-sale. Dryness is another concern for people who get a lot of sun exposure.”

“Maybe I should take home one of the catalogs so I can study the different products. I’d like to try some of them in my salon. I’m excited about learning new cutting techniques, too.”

Jan snorted. “You’ll learn plenty from Sampson. He likes showing off his skill.”

“What about Ron? He didn’t seem too happy that Sampson had assigned him only one stage show.” Marla noticed that Jan only picked at her food, mostly raw vegetables.

“He’s in too much of a hurry. If he’s patient, he can benefit from his association with Sampson, who really is a brilliant artist. Sampson can be very demanding, but you put up with it. He knows his stuff.”

“Chris must be used to dealing with his ego,” Marla said, watching the director flit from person to person, acting as hostess. Her laughter trickled across the room.

“I don’t know—she seems to be the one person who doesn’t bow down to him. Not that Chris bows down to anyone, “Jan added bitterly.

“I understand she recently gave you a promotion.”

Jan sniffed, her nose in the air. “As if.”

“Pardon me?”

“As if that would make me happy.” The redhead narrowed her eyes. “You’re not one of us, so I can tell you things. Listen up, Marla. Don’t try to get close to Chris or you’ll get fried.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

Jan’s gaze shot loaded darts in Chris’s direction. “You might say that. I know very well why Chris offered me this position. She thought it would make up for what she did to me, but she’s wrong. The only way I’d feel better would be to get her job. I’d consider that to be the perfect revenge.”

After Jan’s comments, Marla figured she’d better get on Chris’s good side if she wanted to continue her association with Luxor Products. Finished with her appetizer, she mumbled an excuse to leave the table as Jan became engaged in conversation with another occupant. Pushing to her feet, she scanned the room and focused on the director.

Chris was hard to miss in her jewel-colored ensemble, surrounded by a bevy of male admirers. She had one arm draped around the neck of a red-faced fellow and her knee wedged against another guy’s tailored suit. As she spoke, she moved her entire body in accompanying cues. The group seemed to be listening in rapt attention, or maybe they just hoped to get a piece of the action.

When Marla’s glance caught hers, Chris beckoned. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, allowing Marla through to their hostess. Chris kissed one guy fully on the lips, blinked her mascaraed eyes at him, then stepped away. She grasped Marla’s elbow and steered her clear.

“Are you having a good time, dear? I’m glad you were able to join us.”

“Thanks. I was happy to be invited.” Marla thrust aside a stray strand of hair.

“I saw you talking to Tyler.” A hint of accusation colored the director’s tone.

“He was asking me about sights in the area. I’d offer to show people around, but I’ll be really busy between the exhibit and work at my salon. Plus I have other houseguests besides Georgia. My fiancé’s ex in-laws are staying with me. You can imagine how comfortable I am with that idea.”

Her attempt at levity failed to lighten the conversation. Chris simply said, “You should have brought your fiancé here tonight.”

“He had to work. He’s a police detective,” Marla added, waiting for the widening eyes that usually resulted.

Chris merely smirked. A waiter approached, bearing a tray with a couple of red wineglasses, aged-cheese wedges, and salami slices on crackers. “The bartender told me to deliver this to you, ma’am,” he said, handing Chris a glass.

“Oh, who’s it from?” she demanded, glancing at the cash bar.

“Sorry, you’ll have to ask the bartender. It’s pretty crowded over there.” He offered the other glass to Marla.

“Never mind. It could have been anyone,” Chris said airily, as though accustomed to receiving gifts. Snatching a napkin, she selected a few appetizers. While she tasted one of the canapés, Marla thanked the waiter and accepted the other filled goblet. Her gaze swept the room, but no one seemed to be paying them undue attention. Had someone bought drinks for both of them, or mainly for Chris? The person responsible wouldn’t reap many points by withholding his identity.

“So tell me about your salon, Marla, and what you hope to gain from this weekend.”

Responding to the genuine interest in Chris’s eyes, Marla expounded on her plans to grow her business operations. “I’m hoping the photo shoot will be successful enough that you’ll want to come back,” she concluded. “It seems like a great way to get publicity for the salon.”

“Carrying our products will benefit you in that regard. Florida has the perfect climate to advertise our new line. You should encourage customers to continue their treatments at home. This will move more bottles off the shelves. We have a full line of shampoos, conditioners, sprays, and such. All contain aloe moisturizers and UV protection.”

“Sounds exciting. I can’t wait to try them myself. I assume we’ll get to use these products when we prep the models?”

“You got it. A percentage from our sales gets donated to the American Melanoma Society. That’s the angle we’re promoting to the press.”

“It’s a good cause. I’m really happy to be involved.”

Chris sipped at her wine, regarding Marla over the rim of her glass. “You’ll do fine, just as long as you don’t get in anyone’s way.” Giving a nod, the director spun on her heel and marched off just as Ron approached.

“Hi, Marla. How’s it going?” said the light-haired stylist with a spark in his gray eyes. He wore a standard sport coat over an open collar shirt, a gold chain around his neck.

“I’m not really sure. It’s hard to gauge how to act with some of the people here.” She nodded at Chris’s retreating back.

“The best tactic, if you take my advice, is to keep your ears open and your mouth shut.” Ron leaned forward. “I hear you’re looking to learn some new styling techniques. I can do wonders with my curling iron. Come to my room and I’ll show you.”

“No thanks.” Marla chuckled. “That’s an interesting variation on an old theme.”

“Hey, I’m serious. I really like to teach people.” He cracked his knuckles, holding his arms out like a wrestler before a match. “I have more patience than Sampson. He hogs the stage at these events, but his focus is showmanship rather than true education. He can be short-tempered when things don’t go his way.”

Marla glanced at Ron’s earnest young face. “I imagine it’s tough to work in someone’s shadow when you have the skill to shine by yourself. Have you thought about jumping ship? I bet another company would be eager to nurture your talent.”

He frowned. “I like working with the Luxor product line. Plus, Sampson’s reign won’t last forever. You can learn a lot from him, but you have to slough it off if he barks at you. Come to me if you have any questions.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

She felt like a novice among this crowd, as though her background and experience didn’t count Tomorrow, would her nervousness show when she acted as assistant stylist? It was a new role for her, but it should be a piece of cake compared to some of the other things she’d done.
Don’t worry, you’ll manage
, she told herself. Besides, the work-related tasks would take her mind off the strangers sleeping in her guest room at home. Just thinking about Pam’s parents made her stomach churn.

She circulated toward Amy Jeanne Wiggs, the salon coordinator, who was talking to Miguel Santiago. They halted their dialogue and gave her a friendly smile when she approached.

“Marla, we were just talking about your salon,” Amy Jeanne said, her jaw moving up and down as she chewed a wad of gum. “It’s so great that you’re getting involved with the company.”

“I hope I live up to everyone’s expectations.”

“Oh, you’ll do fine. Then you can think about joining us at other exhibits.” Amy Jeanne wore a royal blue shift dress, the pearls around her neck contrasting with the warm brown of her skin. As she spoke, she examined a fingertip as though searching for nicks in her nail polish. Miguel pulled out his iPod and busied himself with the controls.

“Do most of the same people show up at each event?” Marla asked.

“Depends on location and time of year.” Amy Jeanne spit her gum into a cocktail napkin and rolled it into a ball. “A show’s success depends upon the stage artists. Your role is crucial to their performance.”

“So who’s really in charge, Sampson or Chris?”

Miguel, who’d been swaying his hips to music no one else could hear, gave a snort. “Both of them, from their viewpoints.” He’d dressed casually in a navy Cubavera shirt with white pants.

“A word of caution, girlfriend.” Amy Jeanne twiddled the silver angel pendant she wore. “Steer clear from getting involved in anyone’s personal problems. If Chris comes across as cruel in her remarks, let it go. You don’t want to mess with her. Keep in mind that the company’s reputation rests on Sampson’s shoulders.”

“So, for suck-up value, he’s the one I need to address?”

Miguel stroked his bald head. “Flattery will get you everywhere with Sampson,
querida
. Chris is the one who won’t bend in a stiff wind. Ask her for a favor, and she’ll stab you in the back. Isn’t that right, Amy Jeanne?”

The girl’s eyes flashed. “You got it, bro.”

They wandered off, and Marla sought her friend for solace. She supposed any company had their conflicts, and she really didn’t want to get involved in personnel strife. If she could just do a good job to benefit her salon, that was all that mattered. Political jostling held no interest for her.

“Hi, Georgia, are you getting tired yet? You’ve had a long day,” Marla said, considerate of her friend’s needs.

Georgia lifted a penciled brow. “I’m fine. How about you?”

“I’ve met a lot of interesting people.” Marla wasn’t shy about introducing herself to strangers, especially people who were exchanging industry news and gossip about who was doing what in her own field. Everyone seemed charged about the show and was eager to talk. Always the promoter, Marla had brought a supply of business cards and already had collected new ones to add to her files. She was thinking she should have brought a larger purse, because her small evening bag bulged ominously.

Glancing at her watch, she noted it was nearly ten o’clock. If they stayed later, maybe Pam’s parents would be sleeping by the time they got home. She’d be putting off the inevitable, but she could face them with more fortitude in the morning.

“Ron hit on me, asking me to come upstairs and check out his curling iron,” she added.

“It won’t be the first time.” Georgia chuckled. “You’ll get used to these guys. Overall, I think they’re a good bunch.”

“Amy Jeanne and Miguel are pretty much sticking together. Are they an item?”

Georgia’s glance spot-checked the room. “No way. Amy’s kinda quiet, and I think she likes hanging with Miguel because he’s so attached to his earphones. He has some beef against Chris that has to do with his brother.”

Chris sauntered over as though she’d heard her name mentioned. Along the way, she linked arms with Tyler and dragged him close. A momentary frown crossed his face, but then he smiled blandly. Chris held another glass of red wine. Someone was keeping her well supplied tonight, Marla thought. The director’s steps seemed a bit wobbly. Perhaps that was why she clung so tightly to Tyler.

“The party’s breaking up,” Chris said after a desultory conversation. “Let’s go into the lounge. My head is starting to pound. I’ve got to sit down.”

“Maybe you should go to your room,” Tyler suggested in a flat tone.

Chris batted her eyelashes at him. “Will you come with me?”

He stiffened. “You can make it on your own.”

“Nah, we’ll go schmooze for a while longer. Into the lounge, people.”

Marla found a seat between Janice and Liesl, whose wistful blue eyes focused on Tyler. The sultry blond stylist had chatted up a storm at the cocktail party. Marla had seen her with half a dozen men, at the very least. Each time, Chris had inserted herself into the circle and driven the conversation in another direction. Liesl had shrugged and moved on, making Marla wonder if the girl had already set her cap for someone else. She only hoped it wasn’t Tyler, because Chris aimed to snag him, judging from the way she hung on his arm. Or maybe she’d just had too many glasses of wine. Refusing to be corralled, Tyler handed her off to an armchair before claiming a place beside Georgia on a cushioned loveseat. The rest of the crew had retired for the night.

Leaning back in her padded chair, Marla felt fatigue overwhelm her. She really ought to let the effects of her drinks wear off before she drove home, anyway, she thought, and ordered a cup of coffee, intending to sober up. Her mind blurred while Georgia’s voice rang out with all the news she’d reaped.

Glancing at her watch, Marla couldn’t believe how much time had passed. If she didn’t get up soon, she’d end up sleeping in the hotel lobby. Her limbs wouldn’t obey her mental commands, however. Her chair was just too plush, and the instrumental music playing in the background had lulled her into a state of tranquility. Dim lighting and tea lights on the round tables contributed to the soothing atmosphere. It wasn’t until raised voices pierced the air that her mind snapped to attention.

“Tyler, don’t you think you should ease up on the booze?” Chris’s sharp tone lashed out.

The broad-shouldered male had sagged back on the couch, his arm draped around Georgia. Locks of caramel hair cascaded over his forehead, giving him a rakish look. He’d been stroking Georgia’s shoulder when the director admonished him. Glancing up, he met her gaze with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

“I’ll have a good time if I want to,” he told her. “You’re not responsible for my personal behavior.”

“No?” Chris’s gaze narrowed. “Your decisions have gotten you into trouble in the past.”

“I don’t see a job description that says you’re my keeper.”

“If you make a fool of yourself, it’ll reflect on the company. Making sure you behave is part of my job.”

“What am I doing that offends you? Putting the move on Georgia? I’ve told you before that I won’t play your game, so kindly retract your claws. What I do on my own time is my business.”

Chris pressed her hand against her forehead. “Damn headache. I can’t think straight.”

“Then maybe you should retire,” Georgia suggested, edging away from Tyler.

“Good idea,” Jan answered instead, rubbing a hand wearily across her face. “I have to get up early to do my workout. Did you see the fitness center? I bet it’ll be crowded in the morning.” Pushing herself upright, she stood and stretched. “See ya later, guys.”

An awkward silence descended after Jan left. Marla tried to catch her friend’s eye to signal that they should leave, but Georgia was staring morosely into her beer glass.

“Really, I don’t feel all that well. Tyler, walk me to my room,” Chris demanded from her armchair.

He shook his head. “You can’t manipulate me that way. I know what you’re trying to do, and I’m sick of your attempts to pull my strings.”

Marla winced. Is this what alcohol did to these people? If they fell apart during social hour, how would they pull it together for the show?

Chris’s lips pursed as though she were in pain. ‘You’d better watch your tongue, or you’ll be sorry,” she told Tyler. “I can do a hell of a lot more to hurt you than just blocking your next promotion.” Staggering to her feet, she wavered briefly before heading toward the elevators.

“Man, I shouldn’t have shot off my mouth like that,” Tyler groaned after his boss left. He covered his face with his hands.

Georgia patted his knee. “She’ll forget about it by tomorrow.”

You hope, Marla thought. After warning me to let Chris be the center of attention, you go and snuggle close to Tyler. Big mistake, when Chris obviously has her sights set on him.