Читать книгу Scissors Sisters & Manic Panics - Ellie Phillips - Страница 9

The trainee hairdresser (or barber) should be open to suggestion and input from professionals, clients and their peers.

Guideline 4: Thames Gateway Junior Apprentice Hairdresser (or Barber) of the Year Award

An hour after I got home, when I was just settling down on the couch with a cup of tea and the laptop to distract myself from the anxiety of not having an apprenticeship, the buzzer went. I’d been about to log on to this site I used to chat on all the time when I was really lonely last year. It’s www.girlswholikeboyswhoplayWoW.com and I found it when my cousin Billy was in Nerd Frenzy Mode and playing World of Warcraft the whole time. I used to chat to Groovechick2 on there – she always had something positive to say. Lately though she seemed to have disappeared. She never responded to my updates about how cool my boyf was or how great college was. Then again, I wasn’t online so much these days, so I guess she’d found someone else to talk to.

But today I kind of felt like I needed her. It was definitely a Groovechick2 moment. I wanted to tell her about the whole firing thing. I wanted to say Feel like world is imploding. Lost my job, lost my purpose – something like that. Maybe some friends are just there for the hard times. Maybe they feel like you don’t really need them when things are great.

The buzzer went again. I got up off the couch and picked up the handset. It was my cousin Billy. Even in my less than great mood I noticed he was using way too much wax on his tips at the moment. You could even see it on the itty bitty security screen we have on our intercom. I must tell him some time. It doesn’t really do anything for him.

‘D’you wanna come up?’ I said.

‘I’m with Tony and Enrico,’ he said. ‘Can you come down?’

Enrico is Tony’s older brother. He’s twenty and so totally fit that you almost faint when he looks at you. He works in PC World in the workshop or something, so he’s always pretty cashed up. Recently he bought a nice car, which is where I found them when I made it down to the front entrance.

Tony was in the back seat and when he saw me he opened the car door and got out. I liked how he did it. In fact I like the way Tony does pretty much everything. I read in a magazine that after six months you stop liking the way your boyfriend does everything and you start hating it instead, but that hasn’t happened to me. We’d just had our first anniversary and I still even liked the way he got out of a car.

‘All right?’ he said and kissed me. He has to bend down like three feet to reach because I’m such a squirt.

Did I mention that Tony Cruz kissing me always makes me want to laugh? We’ve been together a whole twelve months, but I still can’t quite believe my luck – it’s so mental it makes me giggle. Tony is seriously a hot guy and I keep wanting to ask him, ‘What are you doing with me?’ In my most insecure moments – and I have tons of those, believe me – I think he’s picked me out for one of those horrible dares. Like, Do you dare to ask out the weird short girl with the shaky hands?

Sometimes I do ask Tony what he’s doing with me, and he goes, ‘I’m waiting for a bus – what the hell kind of a question is that?’ And his voice goes up at the end and he nods the Tony Cruz nod because he is just soooo positive about life.

I’m never so optimistic though and I have to ask, ‘But why are you waiting for it with me?’

‘Because I like you.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you have brown eyes and a cute little mouth and – I dunno, Sadie. You do good hair.’

Tony always kisses properly. He generally greets me with a snogfest, and this time in the car park was no exception. And as usual a member of at least one of our families was present: Enrico was peering at me in the wing mirror of his car. I could see him out the corner of my eye while Tony and I were kissing. I should have been used to it of course. At first it was just Uncle Zé, but lately I’d noticed that it was never ever just me and Tony; it was me, Tony and Billy or Enrico. Maybe it’s just a coincidence because we are all mates, but anyhow Tony and I have got used to doing all of our making out in public, because if we ever walk into a private space someone else invariably walks into it two seconds later. It’s generally Uncle Zé holding an everyday household object, like a cast iron saucepan or an electric carving knife, in a threatening manner.

‘In my country you would have a chaperone, anak,’ says Uncle when I complain about it.

‘Yes, tito, but we’re not in your country,’ I say.

‘Yes, but I’m still your uncle!’

You can’t argue with that. You could try, but the fact is immoveable even if it is completely irrelevant.

Tony stopped the snogfest and I finally focussed on the here and now.

‘What’s going on then?’ I said in the general direction of Billy and Enrico when I got my breath back.

‘We want to talk to you, if you and my brother have finished eating one another,’ shouted Enrico, smiling at me through the car window so that my knees went weak and I felt completely disloyal to Tony for just a nano-second. But I mean really – just because you’re on a diet doesn’t mean you can’t look at the menu, does it?

There is quite possibly nothing more thrilling than travelling in a car with your hot boyfriend, your cousin (who, thanks to a great haircut, no longer looks like a geek even if he is one and is using too much wax on his tips) and your boyfriend’s brother (who is better looking than God) at the wheel. Enrico has great taste in music too and the sound was just pumping out of the car stereo, vibrating through our chests – heaping possibility on top of possibility. I mean, who knew what was about to happen? It felt like anything could.

We drove slowly down towards Mile End and then turned left on to Roman Road. People stared into the car when we got to the crossroads, like they wanted to be riding our train, reading our book. Tony’s shoulder was resting against mine. I was so happy that I had a shoulder and that he had a shoulder and that they were resting against one another. Luckily the small gestures made me happy, instead of HUGELY FRUSTRATED LIKE THERE IS A FURNACE SWEEPING THROUGH MY ENTIRE BODY, which is how Tony described his experience of our relationship most of the time.

‘Enrico’s come up with an idea about the salon thing,’ said my cousin Billy from the front passenger seat.

‘What salon thing?’ I felt my spine arch in irritation. ‘Are you wanting me to go back and apologise to your mum or something – get my old job back?’

Enrico pulled up at the kerb. ‘You can go beg Billy’s ma for your job back if you want, Sadie, but that wasn’t what I was going to suggest.’

‘OK . . . suggest away,’ I said.

I was flattered that Enrico was taking any interest at all in my life, being that he was so good-looking and successful and everything. I decided he must really like his brother a lot.

‘What d’you think of this place?’ said Tony.

Opposite the car was a salon I knew only too well. CISSOR’S PALACE – UNISEX HAIRDRESSERS it said, in red block lettering on a shiny black background. In the window I could see Misty with that faithful scrunchie securing her hair à la 1985. Aimée Price was probably in there somewhere too, boring some customer stupid with her motivational slogans.

Go get it, girl.

So what? Was Tony suggesting I go and ask Misty for a job?

‘You’ve gotta be kid–’ I started.

‘Not that one,’ said Tony. ‘This one.’

I hadn’t noticed but we were parked bang outside an ultra-modern salon with tinted windows and coloured spotlights. It was called Stylee Stylee, Roman Road. For this area it was pretty fashionable. I’d never been in it – in fact I was fairly sure I’d never even heard of it or seen it before.

‘Looks OK,’ I said. ‘What about it?’

‘It’s pretty new,’ said Enrico, ‘and it’s run by an old friend of mine.’

‘Oh?’

‘Dariusz Zengelis,’ said Enrico. ‘I was at college with him. He opened this place about three months ago – had a chair in Soho somewhere before – and I hear he’s looking for a Saturday person.’

Dariusz Zengelis was looking for a Saturday person. I, Sadie Nathanson, was looking for someone looking for a Saturday person. This was starting to sound good.

‘Sounds good,’ I said.

‘We thought maybe you should apply,’ said Billy helpfully.

‘Sure, I should apply,’ I said.

‘Cool,’ said Tony and he squeezed my hand.

‘Go on then,’ said Enrico, turning round and flicking his head towards the salon. ‘What you waiting for?’

What was I waiting for?

I wasn’t dressed for it. I didn’t even have my CV to hand. I needed to psyche myself up.

‘I can’t do it now,’ I said. ‘I’m not ready. I need to get my head together. I need my paperwork . . .’

‘Well, get it all together, girl.’ said Enrico, ‘Saturday morning – go in there early and mention that you know me. It might just help.’