magical workshop.
“Have fun,” she winked before leaving me to it. I gulped hard before I walked through the beaded entryway.
Jorge was dancing to loud disco music as I entered the room draped in black lace and scented with patchouli incense. He pulled me to him to get me to dance to the heavy beat, presumably to loosen me up. His long dark hair flopped over one eye, and I could see the canvas of tattoos on his chest, which was bared by his torn T-shirt. “I just gotta know,” he said as he guided my hips in the dance. “Do you trust your fairy godfather?”
I laughed. “I think so,” I said.
“Good,” he answered with a smile before he twirled me into a chair to begin his transformation.
He sang along with the music as he mixed hair color. The dance track kept going as he started to apply highlights in between foil flaps. He turned me away from the mirror as he applied my overall color. I faced a TV screen that showed classic disco videos with glittery disco balls and strobe lighting. While my color set he worked on his next victim, who was presumably a new contestant on Fierce . I could see him turn the plain Jane housewife into a pop diva right before my eyes, which helped ease my own trepidation about what he was going to do to me.
He leaned me back toward the sink as he sang sexy lyrics to me. Off came the foil as he ran his long fingers through my hair along with water just hot enough to make my toes curl. He then applied toner, putting me three steps beyond what I traditionally requested of my hair stylist. Twenty minutes later he was clipping much of my long locks onto the floor, and I tried not to panic as I felt the steel of his scissors much higher on my back than I had ever intentionally trimmed my hair. He cropped it to the shoulder, layering my full head of hair as he fussed over each clip. He dried it and styled it before he turned his attention to my makeup.
“What color is your dress?” he asked.
“Pale pink,” I told him.
He grinned. “Perfect.”
He reached for a palette full of pearl shadows in whites and pinks, from the palest blush to a dark burgundy. I closed my eyes, leaned my head back and let him do his thing.
When he swung me around to the mirror ten minutes later, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me.
He had darkened my hair with a coppery brown overall color, and added bright red highlights as tiny “ribbons” throughout. My hair brushed my shoulders, and stylish bangs framed my face. The makeup was elegant enough for a fancy ball, but subtle enough to walk among politicians and dignitaries. My hazel green eyes lightened under the pink shadow, which glimmered thanks to a dusting of white pearl powder.
“Oh my God,” I breathed as I stared at myself.
He placed both hands on my shoulder and leaned in to grin at me through the reflection in the mirror. “Like I said. Never question the master.”
When I caught up with Shannon, she was lunching with Graham, Millicent and Max, along with a lovely redhead named Maggie. Max’s mouth nearly fell open as I approached. “Rachel?” he asked.
“I think so,” I replied as I kissed the top of his head. “I’m not sure anymore.”
Maggie and Shannon shared a glance, and I knew from their amused expressions they had both been given the Jorge treatment.
We headed back to the ranch, as I still had to change into my dress. I still couldn’t believe my appearance after I had changed, and I walked with shaking legs down the spiral stairs to where Alex presumably waited. We had quite the drive into town to reach Beverly Hills in time for the party.
I saw him before he saw me. He stood with his back to the stairs, straightening the bow tie of his tux in the large framed mirror in the foyer. His hair had been trimmed to his shoulder, and I could see that he had taken special care to groom the beard that framed his strong jawline.
He saw me approach from the reflection in the mirror, so I caught just a hint of his
“Have fun,” she winked before leaving me to it. I gulped hard before I walked through the beaded entryway.
Jorge was dancing to loud disco music as I entered the room draped in black lace and scented with patchouli incense. He pulled me to him to get me to dance to the heavy beat, presumably to loosen me up. His long dark hair flopped over one eye, and I could see the canvas of tattoos on his chest, which was bared by his torn T-shirt. “I just gotta know,” he said as he guided my hips in the dance. “Do you trust your fairy godfather?”
I laughed. “I think so,” I said.
“Good,” he answered with a smile before he twirled me into a chair to begin his transformation.
He sang along with the music as he mixed hair color. The dance track kept going as he started to apply highlights in between foil flaps. He turned me away from the mirror as he applied my overall color. I faced a TV screen that showed classic disco videos with glittery disco balls and strobe lighting. While my color set he worked on his next victim, who was presumably a new contestant on Fierce . I could see him turn the plain Jane housewife into a pop diva right before my eyes, which helped ease my own trepidation about what he was going to do to me.
He leaned me back toward the sink as he sang sexy lyrics to me. Off came the foil as he ran his long fingers through my hair along with water just hot enough to make my toes curl. He then applied toner, putting me three steps beyond what I traditionally requested of my hair stylist. Twenty minutes later he was clipping much of my long locks onto the floor, and I tried not to panic as I felt the steel of his scissors much higher on my back than I had ever intentionally trimmed my hair. He cropped it to the shoulder, layering my full head of hair as he fussed over each clip. He dried it and styled it before he turned his attention to my makeup.
“What color is your dress?” he asked.
“Pale pink,” I told him.
He grinned. “Perfect.”
He reached for a palette full of pearl shadows in whites and pinks, from the palest blush to a dark burgundy. I closed my eyes, leaned my head back and let him do his thing.
When he swung me around to the mirror ten minutes later, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me.
He had darkened my hair with a coppery brown overall color, and added bright red highlights as tiny “ribbons” throughout. My hair brushed my shoulders, and stylish bangs framed my face. The makeup was elegant enough for a fancy ball, but subtle enough to walk among politicians and dignitaries. My hazel green eyes lightened under the pink shadow, which glimmered thanks to a dusting of white pearl powder.
“Oh my God,” I breathed as I stared at myself.
He placed both hands on my shoulder and leaned in to grin at me through the reflection in the mirror. “Like I said. Never question the master.”
When I caught up with Shannon, she was lunching with Graham, Millicent and Max, along with a lovely redhead named Maggie. Max’s mouth nearly fell open as I approached. “Rachel?” he asked.
“I think so,” I replied as I kissed the top of his head. “I’m not sure anymore.”
Maggie and Shannon shared a glance, and I knew from their amused expressions they had both been given the Jorge treatment.
We headed back to the ranch, as I still had to change into my dress. I still couldn’t believe my appearance after I had changed, and I walked with shaking legs down the spiral stairs to where Alex presumably waited. We had quite the drive into town to reach Beverly Hills in time for the party.
I saw him before he saw me. He stood with his back to the stairs, straightening the bow tie of his tux in the large framed mirror in the foyer. His hair had been trimmed to his shoulder, and I could see that he had taken special care to groom the beard that framed his strong jawline.
He saw me approach from the reflection in the mirror, so I caught just a hint of his
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