Page 19 of Ripped & Shipped
“What bringsyou here for just a style?” Laura asks as she spins the salon chair around so I can take a seat. “Big date?”
“Something like that,” I supply.
Most of this town doesn’t have a clue what I do with all my filming. They look at me as if I’m simply a poor form of local entertainment. Most of them have probably never heard of DrakesDaMan. Considering Laura’s husband Rob is a YouTuber, she should know. But I’m not going to be the one to break my good news to her. She’d probably think I was bragging.
“Someone I know?” Laura presses.
“Maybe. His name is Drake. We’re meeting in Columbus.”
Laura gives me a blank stare in the mirror, as if I’m being difficult by insisting she might know a man named Drake who is forty-five minutes away from here.
“He’s a YouTuber.” I cave when her look borders on irritation.
“Oh. A YouTuber?”
“Yeah. DrakesDaMan? Do you know of him?”
“Rob probably would. How did you meet him?”
Laura grabs her hot tool and starts running a brush through my hair while juggling the brush in one hand and the curling wand in the other. It’s a talent, and I only flinch a little at one point when it looks like the iron will slip and burn me. It doesn’t. She’s a pro.
“We’re doing a collab tonight.”
“Ahhh.”
“That’s where the two of us get together to film a segment, and that video goes out to all our followers on all our social channels.”
“I know what a collab is, Ella Mae. I’m not completely at a loss when it comes to social media.”
“Okay. I didn’t know since you shun the modern world so vehemently.”
“I just prefer friendships where we can go out to dinner regularly, raise our kids together—you know, actually see one another in the flesh. I’ve never understood the appeal of building relationships with a bunch of random strangers—most of whom you’ll never meet face-to-face.”
I have no answer for her.
“Mind if I film you doing my hair?”
“You don’t usually even ask.”
“I’m asking now.”
“Be my guest.”
Laura’s not a mean person. She’s actually really loyal and fun. She’s just not a fan of me or what I do, obviously, so her snarky side comes out more often than not during my appointments. But alas, she’s the only really talented hairdresser in town, so I endure the scoffing while I get my coiffing.
I chuckle at my little rhyme.
“What’s funny?” Laura asks.
“Nothing. Inside joke. With my imaginary friends, you know.”
“Whatever, Ella Mae.”
“Yep. Whatever.”
I turn on the camera. I could use the boost of several thousand people watching me and chiming in on how they love my hair right about now.
“Hey peeps, sweet followers, and anyone new to my page! Today is the BIG day! I’m going to have dinner in Columbus with DrakesDaMan and you are all invited. But first, a girl’s only as confident as her hair, as I always say. And today, my stylist, Laura, is going to work her magic on my tresses to make me beee-YOU-tee-ful. We all have bad hair days. But why have a bad hair day when you can have a great hair day, am I right?”
