And after that, he’d be laughing hysterically.
With shaking hands she picked up the directions and read them once more, this time in hopes that she’d missed something. She hadn’t. Yet somehow she’d totally botched it.
Her telephone rang. Panic-stricken, she whirled around and stared through the doorway into her bedroom.
She wouldn’t answer it, she decided. It might be Adam, and she just knew he’d be rolling on the floor in hysterics at her hair.…
“Don’t be ridiculous!” she sternly told herself. “He can’t see you through the telephone.”
She walked briskly into her bedroom and picked up the receiver, then slumped in relief when she heard Angelica’s voice.
“Help!” Diana said faintly.
“What’s wrong?”
“My hair. It’s … it’s … it’s … I look like Don King!” she wailed. Covering her face with her hand, she finally gave in to her tears.
“What did you do, Diana?” Angelica asked, cutting through her cousin’s sobs.
At Angelica’s drill-sergeant tone, Diana took several deep breaths to try to calm herself. “I only wanted … to streak it, and …”
In between watery hiccups, she somehow managed to explain everything about Adam, her plan, and the forthcoming dinner with his brother.
“Just hang by the phone, kid, until I call youback,” Angelica said, then muttered, “Hell of a way to vamp a man.”
“But I don’t want—”
The telephone went dead. Diana sat on her bed and thoroughly cursed herself. She shouldn’t have attempted such a project on her own, but all the advertisements she’d ever seen claimed it was “easy.” The only easy thing had been turning herself into the Bride of Frankenstein. Still calling herself names, she waited impatiently for five minutes, until the telephone rang again.
She snatched up the receiver and said breathlessly, “ ’Lo?”
“Get a hat on your head and your buns in your car and meet me at Le Papillon Salon. You’ve got an appointment there in half an hour. It’s just off Union Square on Post. Got it?”
“Yes. I don’t know how to thank you—”
“Just go now!”
“Gone!”
Diana slammed the phone down and raced out of her bedroom. She prayed early-afternoon traffic would be light over the Bay Bridge.
It was, Barely. She broke all speed limits, and double-parked her car in front of the elegant shop with less than a minute to spare. Her slender, fashionably dressed cousin was already striding around the front bumper of the car.
“I’ll park it,” Angelica said, whipping open the driver’s door. “Just get in there. Raoul’s sarcastic enough when a client’s late, let alone shifting around his appointments for an emergency.”
Nodding, Diana scrambled out of the car. She jammed the wool watch cap farther down over her ears and ran inside.
A short, wiry man stood inside the doorway. His arms were folded across his chest, his foot tapping impatiently.
She skidded to a halt in front of him. “I’m Diana Windsor, Angelica’s cousin—” she began.
“Who cares?” the man said caustically. He was obviously Raoul. “I assume you’re hiding whatever garbage you’ve done to your hair under that ridiculous hat.”
Before she could stop him, he yanked the watch cap from her head.
Raoul screamed in horror.
“But, Raoul, you’re the only one in the city who has the talent to pull her together,” Angelica was saying a short time later.
“The Bay Area,” Raoul corrected her haughtily as he peered at Diana’s reflection in the mirror.
“The West Coast,” Angelica almost purred, and winked at him.
“I want streaks,” Diana said stubbornly from her place in the swivel chair. “Sexy-looking streaks.”
“You see! She’s impossible,” Raoul yelled as Angelica moaned.
“I want streaks,” Diana repeated as forcefully as possible, ignoring her cousin’s strong grip on her shoulder.
“Raoul, surely you can give her streaks, or something,” Angelica said in a soothing
With shaking hands she picked up the directions and read them once more, this time in hopes that she’d missed something. She hadn’t. Yet somehow she’d totally botched it.
Her telephone rang. Panic-stricken, she whirled around and stared through the doorway into her bedroom.
She wouldn’t answer it, she decided. It might be Adam, and she just knew he’d be rolling on the floor in hysterics at her hair.…
“Don’t be ridiculous!” she sternly told herself. “He can’t see you through the telephone.”
She walked briskly into her bedroom and picked up the receiver, then slumped in relief when she heard Angelica’s voice.
“Help!” Diana said faintly.
“What’s wrong?”
“My hair. It’s … it’s … it’s … I look like Don King!” she wailed. Covering her face with her hand, she finally gave in to her tears.
“What did you do, Diana?” Angelica asked, cutting through her cousin’s sobs.
At Angelica’s drill-sergeant tone, Diana took several deep breaths to try to calm herself. “I only wanted … to streak it, and …”
In between watery hiccups, she somehow managed to explain everything about Adam, her plan, and the forthcoming dinner with his brother.
“Just hang by the phone, kid, until I call youback,” Angelica said, then muttered, “Hell of a way to vamp a man.”
“But I don’t want—”
The telephone went dead. Diana sat on her bed and thoroughly cursed herself. She shouldn’t have attempted such a project on her own, but all the advertisements she’d ever seen claimed it was “easy.” The only easy thing had been turning herself into the Bride of Frankenstein. Still calling herself names, she waited impatiently for five minutes, until the telephone rang again.
She snatched up the receiver and said breathlessly, “ ’Lo?”
“Get a hat on your head and your buns in your car and meet me at Le Papillon Salon. You’ve got an appointment there in half an hour. It’s just off Union Square on Post. Got it?”
“Yes. I don’t know how to thank you—”
“Just go now!”
“Gone!”
Diana slammed the phone down and raced out of her bedroom. She prayed early-afternoon traffic would be light over the Bay Bridge.
It was, Barely. She broke all speed limits, and double-parked her car in front of the elegant shop with less than a minute to spare. Her slender, fashionably dressed cousin was already striding around the front bumper of the car.
“I’ll park it,” Angelica said, whipping open the driver’s door. “Just get in there. Raoul’s sarcastic enough when a client’s late, let alone shifting around his appointments for an emergency.”
Nodding, Diana scrambled out of the car. She jammed the wool watch cap farther down over her ears and ran inside.
A short, wiry man stood inside the doorway. His arms were folded across his chest, his foot tapping impatiently.
She skidded to a halt in front of him. “I’m Diana Windsor, Angelica’s cousin—” she began.
“Who cares?” the man said caustically. He was obviously Raoul. “I assume you’re hiding whatever garbage you’ve done to your hair under that ridiculous hat.”
Before she could stop him, he yanked the watch cap from her head.
Raoul screamed in horror.
“But, Raoul, you’re the only one in the city who has the talent to pull her together,” Angelica was saying a short time later.
“The Bay Area,” Raoul corrected her haughtily as he peered at Diana’s reflection in the mirror.
“The West Coast,” Angelica almost purred, and winked at him.
“I want streaks,” Diana said stubbornly from her place in the swivel chair. “Sexy-looking streaks.”
“You see! She’s impossible,” Raoul yelled as Angelica moaned.
“I want streaks,” Diana repeated as forcefully as possible, ignoring her cousin’s strong grip on her shoulder.
“Raoul, surely you can give her streaks, or something,” Angelica said in a soothing
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