Page 43 of Prime Time Romance

“I’ve cleared my whole morning,” Lois says to Poppy, leaving me to wonder why I have yet to be included in this conversation. “It may take a few attempts to strip all of this out,” Lois says. She pulls a lock of hair straight and then lets it bounce back into a curl. “I’m thinking a relaxer. Definitely bleach. I’ll also heat up the wax.”

She moves to leave, but I hold up my hand. “Hold on.” My heart is beating rapidly. “Bleach feels a little bit drastic, don’t you think? I was thinking more along the lines of a trim. Maybe a few highlights?”

I watch in the mirror as Lois and Poppy exchange a look behind me.

“Sweetie.” Poppy leans forward to level her head with mine. “You know I think you’re beautiful, right?”

She nods and holds my gaze until I nod too.

“Good. All I’m suggesting is that we make your outer beauty match your inner beauty so that everyone in town can see how gorgeous you really are.” She leans in closer, her lips right at my ear. “Especially Spencer.”

Whether she meant to or not, she has said the magic words.

And just like magic, I’m closing my eyes, nodding, and even convincing myself I actually want this extreme makeover as Lois begins to paint my head.

An hour later, I have a head covered in tinfoil.

“Smile.” Lois pokes at my frowning lips. “You’ll be beautiful before you know it.” She adjusts the final foil, then wheels the dryer over and places the bowl over my head. “Isn’t it every girl’s dream to walk into the salon and then come out of it as a whole new woman, ready to turn heads?”

Her question remains rhetorical as she flips the dryer’s switch, and all conversation is drowned out by the low whirring.

She isn’t exactly wrong.

An ugly duck turning into a beautiful swan is a tale as old as time.

Especially in a place like this, where Lois’s makeovers always seemed to be at the center of any girl-must-reinvent-herself storyline. Even Poppy’s.

When she first moved to Carson’s Cove, Poppy was a homely nobody with big ambitions, but her dirty-blond hair made it hard to stick out in a town where everyone was a ten. Until the day she walked into Lois’s salon, where Lois dyed her hair to its signature fiery red. From there, everyone began to notice her. Her makeover made her confident. It was the catalyst for a high school career of overachievements: cheer captain, prom queen, and Chad Michaels’s girlfriend.

Maybe Poppy is right, and it’s exactly what Sloan needs.

Three hours later, my resolve begins to wear thin. I’m still in Lois’s chair. I’ve been stripped, cut, straightened, bleached, and glued and have grown a new appreciation for why makeovers in movies are always shown as montages. I’m exhausted, and I’ve completely lost feeling in my right butt cheek, so when Lois asks, “Are you ready to see?,” my breathy “Yes” is said more out of desperation to get out of this chair than excitement. But as she turns me toward the mirror, I hear a gasp and realize that the sound is coming from my own mouth—because the woman staring back from the mirror is undeniably beautiful.

It takes three more blinks to fully comprehend that the reflection is, in fact, me.

Gone are my dark curls, replaced with silky smooth waves the color of honey.

My eyebrows are pristine.

My lashes are long and dark.

I look stunning.

I look like Sloan.

As Lois said, it should be a dream come true, and yet…

“Do you love it?” Poppy throws her arms around me and squeezes. “Oh my god, Lois, you made her cry.”

Poppy pulls back and places a hand on her heart. My fingers swipe my cheeks and, sure enough, come away wet—yet I wouldn’t say I’m filled with joy.

“You look absolutely lovely,” Lois says, wiping away her own tear. “Oh, gosh, just like a princess.”

“No,” Poppy says, shaking her head. “Like a queen.”

There’s a notable pause as Poppy and Lois exchange another look in the mirror. It’s just a brief glance this time, the slightest dip of the chin in a knowing nod, but I get prickles up my arm.

“So, Sloan, babe.” Poppy sits on the arm of my chair, her tone unusually high. “I’m not sure if I mentioned it earlier, but Lois and I are co-chairing the pageant this year. As you probably already know, it’s the seventy-fifth anniversary—a really important year. So, as you can imagine, it’s crucial that our contestants hold up a certain image. Now, I know the last time you entered…” She exchanges another look with Lois. “Well, it didn’t turn out how you hoped, but Lois and I are both thinking that with your new hair and look, maybe this year is your year….”