Killer Cuts: A Dead-End Job Mystery (12 page)
BOOK: Killer Cuts: A Dead-End Job Mystery
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“Like my ex-husband, Rob?” Helen asked.”He was from St. Louis, Missouri. A drop of that man’s work sweat was so rare, it would cure cancer.”
“Go ahead and laugh,” Margery said.”You’ll see.”
T
he woman sitting in Miguel Angel’s chair looked tired. She
he woman sitting in Miguel Angel’s chair looked tired. She
had dark circles under her eyes and her jawline had a slight
sag. Her hair was frizzy and shapeless.
“Miguel Angel, I don’t know what’s wrong. I look old. I guess I am old—I’m fifty-five. But my husband is complaining that I don’t look good.”
“Cecilia, you’ve had a stroke and brain surgery,” Miguel Angel said. “You’ve lost your hair, but it’s growing back.”
“Not fast enough. I exercise and eat healthy, and it still doesn’t do any good.”
“You’ve been very sick,” Miguel Angel said. “It takes time. Six months ago, you thought you were going to die. Look at you now. Up and walking.”
“And partly bald,” Cecilia said.
“Hair grows back,” he said. “But you do not rise from the dead. You’re a fighter.”
A tear slid down her ravaged cheek.”I’m tired of fighting. I’m think ing about getting a face-lift.”
“No!” Miguel Angel said.”You don’t want a face-lift, Cecilia.You’ll look like everyone else. It’s hard to style hair around the face-lift scars. And those Chinese eyes!” He slanted his own eyes with his fingers. “Your face has character. Don’t ruin it.”
“I’m tired of listening to my husband complain about my looks.The world is full of pretty young women on the prowl.”
“And your husband, is he asking his barber for a makeover?”
“No,” Cecilia said.”It’s different for a man.”
“It’s not different,” Miguel Angel said. “We let men get by with more.We tell them they are distinguished when they’re really old.”
“I used to be a knockout before I got sick,” Cecilia said.
“And now you are well,” Miguel Angel said.”Anything plastic sur geons can do with a knife, I can do with a brush. I will give you a face-lift using makeup. It’s the best kind—no infection, no pain, no swelling, no scars. If you don’t like the new look, you can wash it off.”
“A washable face-lift,” Cecilia said.”I like that idea.”
“Let’s start by washing your hair.Then I’ll show you some makeup tricks. Phoebe!” Miguel Angel called.There was no response.
He stalked over to Ana Luisa’s reception desk.”Where is that worth less woman? Find her. Get her on the phone,” he said. “I will wash Cecilia’s hair myself.”
Cecilia picked up her cane and limped to the washing sinks. Helen carried the woman’s briefcase. Cecilia was a teacher. She never rested at the salon. She packed a case full of papers and education magazines to read, as well as healthy snacks and herbal tea.
Miguel Angel washed and rinsed Cecilia’s hair, then wrapped her head in a towel. When she was back in his chair, he combed out her damp hair.
“What are we going to do about my hair?” Cecilia asked. “It’s so thin.”
“We will fix that, too,” he said.”But let’s start with the makeup first. Helen, bring my case, please.”
Helen hauled the heavy salon case out of the cabinet in the prep room. Miguel Angel opened it and took out his salon makeup brushes. They were packed in a black container that reminded Helen of the holder for her grandmother’s good silverware. It was like a giant leather envelope, with a slot for each size makeup brush. Some brushes had only a few hairs. Others were thick and fat, and one was a feathery fan.
Miguel Angel took a wedge sponge and began patting foundation on Cecilia. He took three times as long as Helen would have to cover Cecilia’s face from jaw to hairline. He made sure there was foundation in the creases around her nose and chin, on her forehead, even under and around her eyes.
Then he picked up a dark brown “studio touch-up stick” and drew lines under Cecilia’s cheekbones, along her jaw, and two lines down her nose.With the clean side of the makeup sponge, he carefully blended the dark lines, creating shadows under her cheekbones and drawing at tention away from her slightly sagging jaw.
“Brilliant,” Cecilia said.”I have cheekbones like a model.”
Miguel Angel took a fat brush, dipped it in a rose powder blush, and brushed the tops of her real cheekbones with color.
“Are you going to put concealer under my eyes?” Cecilia said.
“No, that gives you shiny white rings.” Instead, he blended a tiny amount of concealer at the edge of her eyes, then brushed wheatcolored powder on her eyelids. He lined her lids with dark blue pow der.The lines slanted upward, giving her an eye lift.
Miguel Angel spent what Helen thought was an ungodly amount of time putting mascara on Cecilia’s lashes, constantly instructing her to look up while he seemed to paint each lash individually. Sometime during the mascara, Phoebe materialized by the chair.
Miguel glared at her but said nothing. He lined Cecilia’s lips with a neutral lip pencil and painted them a soft rose.
“I like that lip color,” she said.”The lip gloss tastes like raspberries.”
Miguel Angel removed one of his huge blow-dryers from its holster and dried Cecilia’s hair, pulling on it until it was longer and straighter. Older women’s hair tends to get thin and frizzy, but Miguel knew how to give them the thick, glossy hair of their youth.
BOOK: Killer Cuts: A Dead-End Job Mystery
12.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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