Page 19 of Gray Hair Don't Care
Case in point, Echo’s latest brainchild. It was completely counterintuitive—when the ad campaign featuring Lela was launched, they were going to mark every product in the Lela B online store as “Sold Out”. Echo’s thinking was that web sales were for later. They wanted to build buzz, and the only way to do that was to drive people into brick-and-mortar stores, clamoring for something they believed to be scarce. As Echo said, nobody wanted to be left out on something super cool. It was a brilliant plan.
Unfortunately, said plan put a whole new level of pressure on Lela now that the thing she’d been dreading—the day of the photoshoot—had arrived. Echo had asked Lela to do her own makeup, insisting it would lend authenticity to the story behind the campaign, as the PR department planned to have Echo and Lela do lots of interviews once the much anticipated buzz had been achieved. Lela’s previous experience with “much anticipated buzz” was limited to tequila shooters after Tammera landed the pilot for her cooking show, and that time Lela went to Vegas and slurped a syrupy vodka slushie through a three foot-long straw. She still couldn’t imagine this actually working.
The photographer’s studio was only a few blocks north and one avenue west from her apartment, so Lela walked over with her rolling makeup kit in tow. She embarked with confidence, head held high, which was mostly the product of too much coffee. The weather, however, had other plans. Even though it was only the beginning of June and not quite nine in the morning, the day was already sweltering. By the time she reached the studio, she was sure she looked like the Little Mermaid after a bender—dripping wet and disheveled.
To make matters worse, she was prone to hot flashes if she’d had too much caffeine. Or when she was already overheated. And also when she was nervous. One step into the studio and it started. This was a familiar cast of characters before her—the wardrobe person, the hairstylist, the lighting guy and a handful of photographer’s assistants milling about. The difference was that they were all there because ofher. She didn’t get to hide today. She had to step onto the stage.
The oven-hot heat crawled up her back, rolling over her shoulders, and flooding her face and neck. Sweat ran across her scalp and down her upper lip. This was going to ruin everything. No makeup, however good it was, would stay put if her face was like Lake Erie. No amount of Aqua-Net was going to hold her soggy hair.
“Find a fan,” Tammera suggested when Lela called her in a panic. “Every photographer has one.”
“Good idea.” Lela frantically scanned the studio. “The only one I see is huge. Like wind tunnel huge.”
“Any port in a storm.”
Lela glanced at the time on her phone. Echo was going to arrive at any minute and Lela did not want to look like a complete disaster. She already felt like one. “Okay. I’m going for it.” She casually sauntered across the room, holding her sweaty head high and smiling at anyone who made eye contact, until she reached the opposite corner where the fan sat.
“So is you-know-who coming to this thing?”
“Donovan? I don’t know, but I hope not. He’ll just make me more nervous.”
“Interesting.”
“What? Why is that interesting?”
“I’ve just never seen you nervous. So I’m wondering what sort of influence this mystery man has over you.”
“He’s not a mystery. It’s a pretty open-and-shut case.”I liked him. He didn’t like me back. Mystery solved.
“Maybe if I met him, I wouldn’t feel this way anymore.”
“Maybe. Some day.” Tammera had been angling for this ever since Lela had told her the whole crazy story about how she ended up at Echo Echo, working with her former-college-crush-two-time-one-night-stand. “In the meantime, thank you for listening to my neurotic ramblings.”
“It’s not like you don’t listen to mine.” Tammera had a lot going on in her career right now, too—a publishing deal for a cookbook and a licensing deal for a line of kitchen gadgets. They hardly saw each other. In fact, Tammera had to use the network’s makeup artists last week because their schedules were so incompatible. Lela felt incredibly guilty.
“Dinner soon?” Lela asked.
“Yes. Delia and I really want to see you.” There was an edge to her voice that made Lela thing something might be up, but she didn’t have time to dig for more info.
“Want to come over to my place?” Lela found the switch for the fan.
“Can we do takeout? I never get to order in. Delia always wants me to cook.”
“Sure.”
“Maybe you can invite Donovan.”
Lela grumbled. “I’ll think about it. I should go. I need to lower my body temperature by ten degrees.”
“Good luck, darling. You’re going to be awesome today.”
“Thank you. Love you.” Lela ended the call and tucked the phone into the pocket of her jeans. She flipped the switch. With an enormous whoosh, it was like a jet taking off. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and turned their head. Meanwhile, Lela’s tresses blew back like streamers on a kid’s handlebars. The blast of air plastered her clothes to her sweaty body. “Fuck it,” she mumbled to herself, gathering her hair, raising both arms, and resting her hands on top of her head. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief. The air was cool. The sweat was drying. If everyone wanted to watch her be a weirdo, let them.
“Hey there, rock star,” Echo called.
Lela jumped, dropped her hair, and turned around. Echo was strolling toward her, and although her words had made her seem like her normal, chipper self, her face told another story. “Hey.” Lela flipped off the fan.
“Just cooling down?” Echo asked.
