Private Scandals

in, and in two weeks we could be at war. Tonight, New Year’s Eve, I will not be with the man I think I may be falling in love with, but at a crowded party socializing with strangers because socializing with strangers is now part of my job. So I’m feeling reckless, Marcie, reckless enough to do something drastic.”
    Marcie clipped the knee-length bib around Deanna’s neck. “Maybe you’d better define ‘drastic’ before I get started.”
    “Nope.” Deanna inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. “I don’t want to know. Surprise me.”
    “You got it.” Marcie picked up her spray bottle and dampened Deanna’s hair. “You know, I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks.”
    “Now’s your chance. Make me a new woman.”
    Little tangles of nerves formed in Deanna’s stomach as Marcie snipped. And snipped. She watched with a faltering heart as tresses of ebony hair hit the tiled floor at her feet.
    “You know what you’re doing, right?”
    “Trust me,” Marcie told her, as she snipped some more.
    “You’re going to look fabulous. Distinctive.”
    “Ah, distinctive?” Wary, Deanna tried to turn toward the mirror.
    “No peeking.” Marcie laid a firm hand on her shoulder. “It’s like going into a cold pool,” she explained. “If you try to ease it a little at a time, it’s a hard, miserable experience. And sometimes you chicken out and back off before you get under. If you do it all at once, you have that one nifty shock, then you love it.” She pursed her lips as she wieldedthe scissors. “You know, maybe it’s more like losing your virginity.”
    “Holy shit!”
    Marcie glanced up and grinned at CBC’s resident television chef. “Hiya, Bobby. Almost done here.”
    “Holy shit,” he said again, and stepped inside to stare at Deanna. “What’d you do, Dee?”
    “I wanted a change.” Her voice was weak as she started to lift a hand to her hair. Marcie pushed it away.
    “A cold pool,” she said darkly.
    “It’s a change, all right.” Bobby stepped back, and shook his head. “Hey, can I have some of this hair?” Stooping, he picked up a handful. “I can have a toupee made. Hell, I could have half a dozen.”
    “Oh, God, what have I done?” Deanna squeezed her eyes tight.
    “Dee? What’s keeping you? We need to—oh, Jesus!” Fran stopped in the doorway, one hand covering her gaping mouth, the other pressed to her belly.
    “Fran.” Desperate, Deanna reached out. “Fran. Fran, I think I had a nervous breakdown. It’s New Year’s Eve,” she babbled. “Bobby’s making toupees. I think my life is flashing in front of my eyes.”
    “You cut it,” Fran managed after a moment. “You really cut it.”
    “But it’ll grow back, right?” Deanna snatched a lock of hair from her bib. “Right?”
    “In five or ten years,” Bobby predicted cheerfully, and arranged some of Deanna’s shorn locks atop his bald dome. “Not quite soon enough to honor the clause I imagine you have in your contract restricting appearance changes.”
    “Oh God.” Deanna’s already pale cheek went dead white. “I forgot. I just didn’t think. I went a little crazy.”
    “Be sure to have your lawyer use that one with Delacort,” Bobby suggested.
    “They’ll love it,” Marcie said grimly. “She’ll see for herself in a minute.” Marcie fluffed and combed. Unsatisfied, she added a dab of gel, working it in, then styling with theconcentration of a woman cutting diamonds. “Now you just take a deep breath, and hold it,” Marcie advised, unhooking the bib. “And don’t say anything until you take a really good look.”
    No one spoke as Marcie turned Deanna slowly toward the mirror. Deanna stared at the reflection, her lips parted in shock, her eyes huge. The long mane of hair was gone, replaced by a short, sleek cap with a saucy fringe of bangs. In a daze, she watched the woman in the mirror lift a hand, touch the nape of her neck, where the hair stopped.
    “It follows the shape of your face,” Marcie said nervously when Deanna only continued to stare. “And it shows off your eyes and eyebrows. You’ve got these great dark eyebrows with this terrific natural arch. Your eyes are a little almond-shaped and dramatic, but they kind of got lost with all that hair.”
    “I . . .” Deanna let out a breath, took another. “I love it.”
    “You do?” As her knees buckled in relief, Marcie dropped into the chair beside her. “Really?”
    Deanna watched her own smile bloom. “I love it.