Page 62 of The Mouse and the Maestro

“Jane, hi, welcome.” A blond woman who bore a strong resemblance to Maggie came forward and warmly shook Jane’s hand. While Maggie was fresh-faced and cute with a girl-next-door appeal, the sister was the intimidating sort of pretty that always made Jane feel dowdy by comparison. Here was a woman who had likely never burned her forehead curling unfortunately short bangs. “We’re going to have fun today. I’m going to hand you off to Alma for a moment. She’ll get you something to drink, massage your hands, and wash your hair. Meanwhile,” sheclasped Blue’s arm, “you’re coming with me.” She turned and began dragging him away.

He glanced helplessly at Jane who gave him a shrug. If he was hoping for a rescue, he was looking in the wrong place. She was completely out of her element in this place.

Amelia dragged Blue to another room and let him go. “So,” she said, circling him like a monkey looking for mites.

“What’s happening? Do I pass muster, General?”

“No,” Amelia said. She stopped in front of him, crossing her arms. “Here’s the deal. You’re in dire need of a makeover.”

“Um, no,” Blue said. He motioned to himself. “This is my look.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “You know what this look says? ‘I’m a teenage gamer who hangs out at the skate park on the weekends. And sometimes, if my mom gives me money, I go out for crullers with my friends.’”

“But,” he began.

“Shh,” she put her finger to her lips and interrupted him. “Mommy’s still talking.” She rested her hands on his shoulders and stared solemnly into his eyes. “You are a grown man, a highly trained spy, a secret agent tasked with the world’s biggest secrets. Isn’t it time you looked the part instead of like a Tony Hawk fanboy?”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, his tone wary. He picked up his t-shirt and began nervously twisting the ends of it.

“First we start with the hair.”

He put his hand to his signature blue tresses. “No way.”

She nodded. “Yes way. You’re going to put yourself in my hands, and when it’s over, you don’t have to tell me how right I am. All you have to say is, ‘Thank you, Amelia.’”

She led him to a chair, washed his hair, and mixed the color she’d selected for him. She would return him to what she guessed was his natural color, a sandy blond. If it wasn’t hisnatural color, it should be. He had a perpetually sun kissed complexion, like a California surfer who’d spent too much time on the board. While his color was setting, she checked in with Jane.

Alma had just finished washing her hair. She sat nervously in Amelia’s chair, staring at herself in the mirror. “So, Jane,” she said, and the woman jumped. She hunkered down beside Jane, staring at their combined reflection in the mirror.

“Tell me about this style. How long have you had it?”

Jane looked like she feared there was a wrong answer. Amelia took her hand and began gently petting it, something she did with her more skittish clients to soothe them. Jane returned her attention to her reflection in the mirror, surveying her harsh, chin-length bob. “Since I was fifteen. I was living in Africa and going through a big Egyptian phase. I thought it would make me seem more like Cleopatra.”

“Cleopatra,” Amelia said, tipping her head. “Interesting. Let me ask you another question. Do you ever feel like everyone in life is having an adventure but you?”

Jane nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

“Are you ready to change that?”

She nodded again, blinking hard to clear her eyes.

“Well, then, here we go.” Amelia picked up her scissors and got to work.

Ninety minutes later, she returned to Blue. His hair was done, and it looked as amazing as she knew it would. She had colored the blue out of it and left it long on top, parting it on the top and slicking it to the side in an imitation of 1940’s movie star glam. The day-old stubble on his cheeks gave his face more definition. Now it was time for the rest of him. She handed him a white dress shirt and a pair of pants.

“New clothes, too?” he asked, sounding much less disdainful than when he’d walked in nearly two hours ago.

“Trust me yet?” she asked and smiled when he reached for the clothes without comment. She left him and went to Jane who, like Blue, stood staring at herself in a full-length mirror.

“Is this really me?” she whispered.

“One hundred percent,” Amelia said. “Except that stripe in your hair. It’s temporary, but I can make it permanent, if you want.”

“Maybe,” Jane whispered, touching the blue stripe in her hair. Amelia had given her a modified pixie cut, leaving one long chunk that draped coquettishly over her forehead. That chunk of hair was now blue. Likewise Jane’s makeup was completely over the top, yet still somehow worked. Amelia had done an exaggerated cat’s eye on her, swirling the outer edges and dotting them with a heart on each side of Jane’s temple. Her lipstick was bright pink but not gaudy or garish. Instead Jane looked somewhere between punk and adorable, and she kind of loved it.

“Jane, do you know how to tie a man’s tie?”

“Yes, why?”

---