Ava: Molly! OMG. Where have you been?! My hair is orange!!!!!! And it fucking burns!
Molly: You did not answer my question.
Ava: No. I swear. I just wanted a change.
Molly: You know I can smell lies, right?
Ava: Okay, fine. You’re right. You’re always right.
Molly: That’s more like it. Never make hair decisions on the eve of your period, love. They only end in disaster.
Ava: Will you swing by CVS and get me hair dye? And some Reese’s cups? I can’t go in public like this.
Molly: Give me a sec.
Ava: Also, your dad asked if you could get him more of that coffee he likes.
Molly: Yes to Dad, no to CVS.
Ava: (crying emoji)
Molly: Boxed hair dye is where it all went wrong, Av. We’re not going back down that road. But be ready at 10 tomorrow. I’m coming to get you. Find a hat. We’ll get tea and scones at Drip and pick up the coffee for my dad and then I’m taking you to my stylist, Christian. He’ll get you all fixed up. <3
Ava: You are the best.
Molly: You are not wrong. Love you.
I filter through the rest of my texts and put out fires like it’s my job. After spending a few hours writing copy for the summer line, I pack up and head out.
And don’t tell Ava, but I do swing by CVS—not for boxed hair dye, but for Stella’s meds. And, of course, I grab Reese’s cups, because I’m good like that. And then, I head home.
Well, not my home, exactly.
My landlord sold the house I was living in. It was all for the best really; I didn’t love it there. And he was a bit of a creeper. So I started searching for a place. I even toyed with the idea of buying, but then my dad called to say that my Aunt Stella fractured her ankle and wanted to know if I would stay with her until I found a place.
It’s plain to see that I really can’t say no to any of my family members, but no one on earth could say no to Stella. She’s a total badass. She’s 81, and she’s the coolest chick I know. And the fractured ankle? That was a bowling league injury.
She swears like a sailor, cooks like a dream, practices yoga, and carries condoms in her handbag.
I want to be her when I grow up.
I pull into the driveway of Stella’s brick rancher and head inside. You’d think, given her injury, that she’d be resting on the couch with her foot propped up. Nope, not Stella. In fact, she’s nowhere to be found. Her hairless cat, Clover, meows indignantly and winds around my legs.
“Stella!” I call down the hall, smiling at my own awful Marlon Brando imitation.
“Right here, Love.” She peeks her head out of her bedroom door, flaming locks permed and teased into an impenetrable hair helmet. “Help me with this clasp, would you?”
I stride toward her, taking in her outfit as I go. She is definitely not dressed for a relaxing night in. Her purple sequined sweater dips low in the back and her pleather leggings are, well...pleather leggings. The air cast detracts slightly from the look she’s going for, but the black suede peep-toe bootie on the other foot makes up for it.
“Would my black beaded chandelier earrings be too much?”
“They’re lovely, but they might compete with the necklace.”
She nods in agreement and then spritzes her perfume, drowning herself in a cloud of White Diamonds.
I back up a solid three feet (this ain’t my first rodeo). “So, where are you off to tonight? I am 100% sure the doctor said no line-dancing for three more weeks.”
“He did, sadly. If he weren’t such a handsome devil, I’d tell him to shove his medical advice where the sun don’t shine. But, he’s pretty to look at, and I want to be out of this darn cast as soon as possible, so I’ll abide by his rules. The girls and I are off to that club on the highway. What’s it called? The Blue Streak.”
