Page 11 of Gray Hair Don't Care
“Excellent. What does your life look like?”
“I got new furniture for my apartment. I finally got rid of Mark’s ugly-ass stuff.”
“Praise the lord.”
“And I’m wearing much girlier clothes, all the time. Everything Mark thought was ridiculous.”
“I love it. And what about your career?”
This was a big one, the step she’d been too scared to take. “I’ve started Lela B. And it’s going well. People like it.”
“Yes!” Tammera clapped so loudly it sounded like a crack of thunder.
Lela jumped. Her eyes popped open. Before her, in the mirror, was only her reflection. Every wrinkle and acne scar that had been there before. But there was fresh color in her cheeks. A bright pink. Her eyes were clear. She turned to the side and the sun caught a few silver strands of hair. They glinted in the morning light. They practically sparkled. Why was she hiding her sparkle? Why was she waiting for any of these things she wanted? She was done delaying her dreams, and she was over trying to make anyone else happy. “And I think I’m going to try going gray.”
“Wait. Really?”
“I think it’s pretty, but the hair dye aisle at the grocery store says I’m supposed to cover it up. Why does gray have to be bad?”
“It doesn’t. At all.”
“Exactly. Going gray is normal. And like every other bullshit standard of beauty, society wants me to hide my age. I’m tired of hiding.”
“It could end up being super cute. If nothing else, I bet you end up with one of those wickedly cool streaks.”
“Yes. Like Stacy onWhat Not to Wear.” Lela was convinced. This meant something. Silver could mark her future. And while she was at it, she might as well start transforming her career. “Also, I’m dropping my makeup clients.”
That got Tammera’s attention. “No. You cannot do this to me. You make me look amazing on camera.”
Lela picked up her phone and looked her best friend in the eye. “Do you really think I would do that to you?”
“Maybe? I don’t know. You just got ghosted after a one-night stand with a guy you haven’t seen in twenty years. Anything is possible.”
“I’m not letting you down. I will do your makeup for as long as you want me to. Until I’m so crippled with arthritis that my hands are like claws and I can hardly stand up.”
“I doubt my show will be on the air for that long, but thanks.” Tammera cocked her head ever-so-slightly. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
Lela nodded eagerly. “Yep. I’m going full throttle on my skincare and cosmetics line. Lela B is officially a go.”
Chapter Seven
Three years later
Lela had kept her promise.She had not dropped Tammera as a makeup client, even when squeezing her in became a bigger and bigger challenge as Lela B slowly took off. Some days, Lela’s little company took a baby step—a new retailer, some praise from a beauty influencer, or a new product that had gone over well with customers. But she’d had her share of setbacks, too—failed formulations, colors that flopped, and stores where Lela B simply never got any traction.
But two years in, a tiny miracle happened. JTI, a consortium of fashion and beauty brands, made an offer to bring Lela B into their corporate family. It meant that Lela could finally move her office out of her house, pay herself more money, and streamline production. It also meant a vast array of opportunities—connections, partnerships, and relationships that would’ve taken Lela years to establish. But all that good fortune also translated to a lot of irons in the fire, making it even more difficult to find time for Tammera.
“Thank you for coming today, love. I know work is crazy right now.” Tammera turned her head back and forth, admiring herself in the mirror of her dressing room at the Cook It! studios. “Looks amazing. As always.”
Lela grinned. “Eighty percent of that is you. I can’t take much credit. Now look up.” She swiped a second coat of thick black mascara onto Tammera’s lashes.
Tammera blinked at herself in the mirror. “Ooh. My lashes are so thick and lush. Is this a new product?”
“It is. I’d love to hear what you think. I feel confident in it, but I figure that if it holds up to you standing over a steaming pot of whatever goodness you’re cooking while under studio lights, it’s definitely good to go.” Lela applied a final coat of powder, then removed the tissues protecting Tammera’s clothes. “You’re all set.”
Tammera got up from the chair and gathered her things—a bottle of water and a notebook that never left her side. She often said that recipe inspiration could come at any time. “What do you have going for the rest of the day?”
Lela consulted the time on her phone. “I have to run home and change for a meeting at JTI. They’re shifting Lela B to another division.”
