(no subject)
I need to be struck with some type of amazing inspiration, so that I'll be able to write for weeks. One of those situations where you're up late because you've got it all in your head and you don't want to stop. That happened last night, but quickly fizzled this morning.
The fruits of my labor?
---
If there’s one thing I hate more ‘an fake girls, it’s whining. Which is probably why my job always leaves me wantin’ to shoot myself near the end of any shift. Only reason I kept it was f’r the cash and the gossip. Ain’t no better place to find out the lowdown on anybody on the Northside than the beauty parlor. Of course, after an hour of listening to Little Miss Priss complain about her parents and how strict they are and how they never ever let her do anything, the benefits of my job paled in comparison. Then she didn’t even tip me for the bitchin’ cut I gave her.
“Kathy, yer ten o’ clock is here!’ Laurie called out the propped back door. I glanced back inside long enough to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Salis clutching her purse by the front register. With a sigh, I dropped the cigarette I’d been smoking on the pavement and stamped it out with the toe of my pointed shoe. Mrs. Salis usually tipped pretty well-only thing she’s more protective of than her money is her bob-so I tried to keep her satisfied, which meant big smiles and even bigger ears.
“I hope you weren’t waiting long, Mrs. Salis. If you wanna hop on into my chair, we c’n get you started.”
She smiled with relief, like I was the only thing keeping the other stylists from taking a buzzsaw to her hair, and followed me. “Now Kathy, I just want it trimmed up a little. Same exact cut, just a little cleaner, okay?” She had to have this written down somewhere because the lady said the same words verbatim every time she came. But I nodded and acted like she was tellin’ me something new anyway.
“So Mrs. Salis,” I began, clipping the sheet around her neck to catch the hair I would trim off. “How is that husband of yours?” She settled back into the chair comfortably and started her predictably long tale. I took the scissors and started clipping away, nodding and “mhm”ing in all the appropriate places as she recounted the story of how he accused her of cheating on him last week.
I was just tousling her hair with my fingers and running an eye over my handiwork when she finished her story. “He really oughta know I wouldn’t do anything. I can’t understand how he gets off askin’ me something like that.” Her voice was indignant and sharp, an’ I was quick to hop on her side.
“Men,” I rolled my eyes, and she clucked agreeably. “Now how’s this look?” I asked, pulling her hair through my fingers on either side of her face and looking in the mirror for her reaction.
She grinned with contentment. “Perfect, Darlin’.”
“Good,” I walked over to the register, my heels clicking against the tile, and she followed doggedly behind me, pulling out her checkbook. “The trim comes out to $3.95.” She probably had the cost memorized too, since she was here ev’ry three weeks for the exact same thing. Mrs. Salis just wasn’t much a fan of experimentation.
“Here ya go, hunny.” She handed me the check and a one dollar bill, and I smiled appreciatively.
“I’ll see ya again in three weeks. Keep that husband of yours on his toes, ya hear?”
She chuckled and wiggled her fingers at me as she left, the door chime pinging as it shut again behind her.
Once she was gone, I put the check in the register and the cash into the pocket of my apron. Then I sat down on the chair she’d sat in just ten minutes earlier and turned it around so my back was to the mirror.
Sally and Diane were both working on their appointments, and Rita was doing a dye job on a walk-in. Paula was the only other stylist who was free, and she was tidying up her station, which was an hourly habit for her. She was a sweet thing, but my Lord she was obsessive about organization.
I glanced behind me at my own area, with combs and razors and scissors scattered wherever there was an extra space. I had my high school diploma hanging on the wall beside me, and a picture of my pa and me was taped to the top right corner of the mirror.
There was also a little wallet size picture of Two-Bit, me, Liam and his girl Bailey. Bailey and I got on pretty well, and Liam and Two-Bit liked to goof around sometimes, so the four of us had a pretty good time when we were all together.
‘Course, at the moment Two-Bit an’ I were on an off-period. I looked at him in the picture, the wide grin and that greasy red hair, and tapped my fingernails against my leg. I’d tried to get him to let me shave off those sideburns more than once, but he always managed to sidestep the subject, usually with the use of his lips or hands…
“Hey Kathy, you got time f’r a hair dye?” Paula asked. While I’d been spacing out, another customer had walked in. If it had been someone else askin’, I would have told them to do it themselves, but Paula was real bad with hair dye, as we’d all found out a couple weeks ago. She tried, poor thing, but after the last lady left in an angry huff with her hair bright purple, we kinda all agreed we’d take the dye jobs off her hands.
I glanced over at the clock on the wall, 4:15, and sighed. I was gonna be late getting off again, but I agreed anyway.
It was two hours later that the customer left with newly brunette hair an’ a lighter pocketbook. I took off my apron and folded it up, hanging it on a hook by my station and taking the cash from the pockets. I shoved the bills into my purse and shook out a cigarette from my pack, lighting up as I signed out.
“Bye ladies.”
I got a chorus of “good-bye”s and “see ya later”s.
My house was only about a mile from the hair salon, which was situated in a shopping center on Cherry Street. It was closer to the North side, but a lot of people came for the stores, so we got a good cross-section of both classes and those in between. Taking a drag on my cigarette, I started off for my neighborhood.
The weather was pretty nice, mid-70s, but I knew it would get cooler once the sun started to set. It was always pretty chilly when I set out for work in the morning.
Two-Bit’ll come and pick me up from the salon every once in a while, when we’re together, that is. At the moment, he was avoiding me, having broken it off just a few weeks earlier. Of course, he and I rarely have real, official splits. He usually just stops calling an’ talking to me and goes out with another girl. This time I hadn’t spoken to him in a week and a half.
I wasn’t particularly worried, and was actually startin’ to get rather blasé about his shenanigans. Over the past two years, since I was sixteen an’ we started dating, I’ve learned a few things about Two-Bit Mathews, an’ right on the top of the list is that he’ll take off running whenever he gets nervous or restless.
He’d be back, I was sure. At the end of the day, it’s… well, it’s me. Two-Bit an’ Kathy. We’re just one of them couples, a little like Steve and Evie but not quite so dysfunctional, and maybe like Soda and Sandy but not so prim and proper, or maybe like Dally and Sylvia, except not near as crazed.
We might not be considered stable by normal standards, but we’re real good together, he an’ I are.
---
Annnnnnd it's gone. I was planning on taking it through the book, with a closer look at the things that happened to Two-Bit through Kathy, like when he got jumped and such, and I still might. I just have to get un-stuck. And I find it to be a bad omen that I'm stuck after, what, three pages? If that.
*Sigh.*
The fruits of my labor?
---
If there’s one thing I hate more ‘an fake girls, it’s whining. Which is probably why my job always leaves me wantin’ to shoot myself near the end of any shift. Only reason I kept it was f’r the cash and the gossip. Ain’t no better place to find out the lowdown on anybody on the Northside than the beauty parlor. Of course, after an hour of listening to Little Miss Priss complain about her parents and how strict they are and how they never ever let her do anything, the benefits of my job paled in comparison. Then she didn’t even tip me for the bitchin’ cut I gave her.
“Kathy, yer ten o’ clock is here!’ Laurie called out the propped back door. I glanced back inside long enough to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Salis clutching her purse by the front register. With a sigh, I dropped the cigarette I’d been smoking on the pavement and stamped it out with the toe of my pointed shoe. Mrs. Salis usually tipped pretty well-only thing she’s more protective of than her money is her bob-so I tried to keep her satisfied, which meant big smiles and even bigger ears.
“I hope you weren’t waiting long, Mrs. Salis. If you wanna hop on into my chair, we c’n get you started.”
She smiled with relief, like I was the only thing keeping the other stylists from taking a buzzsaw to her hair, and followed me. “Now Kathy, I just want it trimmed up a little. Same exact cut, just a little cleaner, okay?” She had to have this written down somewhere because the lady said the same words verbatim every time she came. But I nodded and acted like she was tellin’ me something new anyway.
“So Mrs. Salis,” I began, clipping the sheet around her neck to catch the hair I would trim off. “How is that husband of yours?” She settled back into the chair comfortably and started her predictably long tale. I took the scissors and started clipping away, nodding and “mhm”ing in all the appropriate places as she recounted the story of how he accused her of cheating on him last week.
I was just tousling her hair with my fingers and running an eye over my handiwork when she finished her story. “He really oughta know I wouldn’t do anything. I can’t understand how he gets off askin’ me something like that.” Her voice was indignant and sharp, an’ I was quick to hop on her side.
“Men,” I rolled my eyes, and she clucked agreeably. “Now how’s this look?” I asked, pulling her hair through my fingers on either side of her face and looking in the mirror for her reaction.
She grinned with contentment. “Perfect, Darlin’.”
“Good,” I walked over to the register, my heels clicking against the tile, and she followed doggedly behind me, pulling out her checkbook. “The trim comes out to $3.95.” She probably had the cost memorized too, since she was here ev’ry three weeks for the exact same thing. Mrs. Salis just wasn’t much a fan of experimentation.
“Here ya go, hunny.” She handed me the check and a one dollar bill, and I smiled appreciatively.
“I’ll see ya again in three weeks. Keep that husband of yours on his toes, ya hear?”
She chuckled and wiggled her fingers at me as she left, the door chime pinging as it shut again behind her.
Once she was gone, I put the check in the register and the cash into the pocket of my apron. Then I sat down on the chair she’d sat in just ten minutes earlier and turned it around so my back was to the mirror.
Sally and Diane were both working on their appointments, and Rita was doing a dye job on a walk-in. Paula was the only other stylist who was free, and she was tidying up her station, which was an hourly habit for her. She was a sweet thing, but my Lord she was obsessive about organization.
I glanced behind me at my own area, with combs and razors and scissors scattered wherever there was an extra space. I had my high school diploma hanging on the wall beside me, and a picture of my pa and me was taped to the top right corner of the mirror.
There was also a little wallet size picture of Two-Bit, me, Liam and his girl Bailey. Bailey and I got on pretty well, and Liam and Two-Bit liked to goof around sometimes, so the four of us had a pretty good time when we were all together.
‘Course, at the moment Two-Bit an’ I were on an off-period. I looked at him in the picture, the wide grin and that greasy red hair, and tapped my fingernails against my leg. I’d tried to get him to let me shave off those sideburns more than once, but he always managed to sidestep the subject, usually with the use of his lips or hands…
“Hey Kathy, you got time f’r a hair dye?” Paula asked. While I’d been spacing out, another customer had walked in. If it had been someone else askin’, I would have told them to do it themselves, but Paula was real bad with hair dye, as we’d all found out a couple weeks ago. She tried, poor thing, but after the last lady left in an angry huff with her hair bright purple, we kinda all agreed we’d take the dye jobs off her hands.
I glanced over at the clock on the wall, 4:15, and sighed. I was gonna be late getting off again, but I agreed anyway.
It was two hours later that the customer left with newly brunette hair an’ a lighter pocketbook. I took off my apron and folded it up, hanging it on a hook by my station and taking the cash from the pockets. I shoved the bills into my purse and shook out a cigarette from my pack, lighting up as I signed out.
“Bye ladies.”
I got a chorus of “good-bye”s and “see ya later”s.
My house was only about a mile from the hair salon, which was situated in a shopping center on Cherry Street. It was closer to the North side, but a lot of people came for the stores, so we got a good cross-section of both classes and those in between. Taking a drag on my cigarette, I started off for my neighborhood.
The weather was pretty nice, mid-70s, but I knew it would get cooler once the sun started to set. It was always pretty chilly when I set out for work in the morning.
Two-Bit’ll come and pick me up from the salon every once in a while, when we’re together, that is. At the moment, he was avoiding me, having broken it off just a few weeks earlier. Of course, he and I rarely have real, official splits. He usually just stops calling an’ talking to me and goes out with another girl. This time I hadn’t spoken to him in a week and a half.
I wasn’t particularly worried, and was actually startin’ to get rather blasé about his shenanigans. Over the past two years, since I was sixteen an’ we started dating, I’ve learned a few things about Two-Bit Mathews, an’ right on the top of the list is that he’ll take off running whenever he gets nervous or restless.
He’d be back, I was sure. At the end of the day, it’s… well, it’s me. Two-Bit an’ Kathy. We’re just one of them couples, a little like Steve and Evie but not quite so dysfunctional, and maybe like Soda and Sandy but not so prim and proper, or maybe like Dally and Sylvia, except not near as crazed.
We might not be considered stable by normal standards, but we’re real good together, he an’ I are.
---
Annnnnnd it's gone. I was planning on taking it through the book, with a closer look at the things that happened to Two-Bit through Kathy, like when he got jumped and such, and I still might. I just have to get un-stuck. And I find it to be a bad omen that I'm stuck after, what, three pages? If that.
*Sigh.*