Chapter Six
Eden
I rushed up the long hallway and stopped at Blair’s door. It was unlocked, and I pushed it open before searching the room for my friend, cursing myself for not having noticed that she hadn’t made it down to the ballroom yet.
“Blair, what’s happening? I thought I heard you scream. Are you okay?” I called out, not seeing her.
“No,” she said from the bathroom. “It’s ruined!”
“What’s ruined?” I asked, crossing the room and rapping on the bathroom door. I tried the handle, but it was locked. “Can I come in?”
“No,” she said tearfully. “No one can see me like this.”
“Blair, come on, it’s me. I won’t judge you. What’s going on?” I said.
There was a pause, and then she spoke again, her voice muffled with tears. “I’m coming out.”
I moved away from the door to give her space to exit the bathroom, and as she stepped out, I had to hold in a gasp.
“See?” she said, gauging my reaction anyway.
Her chestnut brown hair was streaked with messy platinum blonde chunks, and her eyes were red from the tears which were gathering in them.
“Oh my god, what happened?” I asked.
She sniffed. “I was getting ready for the party,” she said, gesturing down to her gown and heels. “And before I got dressed, I put some mousse in my hair. You know that stuff I have that gives me extra volume?”
I nodded. Blair’s hair had always been quite fine, and she often put products in it to make it look a bit thicker and more vibrant.
“I used that. Then I got dressed—it took me like fifteen minutes just to wrangle the stupid dress zip. And just then, I went back into the bathroom for a last minute makeup touchup, and I saw this.”
I put an arm around her and rubbed her back. “Don’t worry, we’re going to fix this. It’ll all be fine,” I promised. Then I stepped into her bathroom and grabbed the shiny purple bottle of mousse. “Is this the stuff you used?” I asked.
She nodded, and I opened it and took a quick whiff. “Smells like peroxide. I think someone sneaked into your bathroom and replaced the mousse with it.”
Her eyes widened. “But why? Why bleach my hair?”
“To screw with you,” I said, my voice laced with anger. “We’ve had situations like this before, with contestants trying to sabotage others.”
“Well, it’s working. I can’t even go to the party now, which means I’ll barely be in the first episode at all.”
“We’ll sort that out later,” I said. “For now, I want you to stick your head in the sink and rinse out any of the product that’s still in there. If you leave it in, it’ll eventually just fry your hair right off.”
“Okay. But what the hell do I do after that?” she said, sticking her head in the sink with the tap running.
“Don’t worry about it for now. Just rinse your hair, and I’ll figure out how to—”
“Everything okay in here?”
A familiar masculine voice echoed through the room, cutting me off, and I turned to see Troy standing in the doorway. “I left the party to take a leak and heard what sounded like someone screaming or crying,” he added to explain his presence.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Go back to the party; I’ll sort this out.”
As I spoke, Blair turned the tap off and came out of the bathroom, rubbing her hair with a towel, and Troy’s eyebrows shot up. “Shit…Blair Gilbert? I thought you looked familiar in the lineup last night.”
She gave him a tight, polite smile. “Yeah, it’s me. Hi, Troy.”
“How have you been?” he asked. “Still making that jewelry stuff you used to make back in the day?”
Blair nodded, and I could tell she was surprised that someone like Troy had remembered her hobby from so long ago. “Um…yeah, I’ve actually started my own online store for it. I’m based in L.A.”
“That’s great. I—”
“Troy, you really don’t need to be here,” I said, cutting in. “Sorry, but we’re dealing with a bit of a situation.”
He nodded slowly. “Well, I actually came in here to see if I could help out in any way.”
My face softened a little, and I looked at Blair, who had the same expression as me. “Someone sabotaged my hair products,” she explained with a heavy sigh, pulling the towel away from her head. “And now I look like a skunk. So no, I don’t think you can help, but thanks for the offer, I guess.”
Troy’s eyes widened. “Fuck. Who would do that? One of the other women?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’d say so. We’ve dealt with this kinda stuff in past seasons. And just half an hour ago, someone also cut up a dress belonging to another contestant, so it looks like we have a real nasty girl on our hands this season,” I said, pulling out my walkie-talkie radio. “I’m going to ask hair and makeup to come and dye the bleached parts back to their usual color and use an oil mask to help with any damage the bleach might’ve caused.”
Blair nodded, but her expression had turned downcast again. “That’ll fix it….but it will take ages,” she said. “And I’ll miss the cocktail party. I mean, I’m already missing it as we speak.”
Before I could say anything, Troy spoke up. “I have an idea for a temporary fix,” he replied. “Then you don’t have to miss the party, and you can get your hair dyed afterwards.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Got any brown mascara?”
Blair and I both gave him incredulous looks, and he grinned. “What, a man isn’t allowed to know what mascara is?” he said. “Look, it’s something my publicist does sometimes. She’s got naturally black hair, but she’s started to get a few greys that she doesn’t like, and in between hair appointments, she’ll streak a little bit of mascara over the greys to cover them up. You’ve got brown hair, so brown mascara would probably work.”
I nodded slowly, and Troy continued. “I mean, mascara is designed for hair, right? Eyelash hairs, but still….it’s all hair. So it should be safe to stick on your head for now. Might make your hair a bit stiff, but whatever. It’s only for a few hours.”
Blair nodded and scurried back into the bathroom to retrieve her makeup case and a hairdryer. “Here,” she said, pulling out a tube of mascara. “Might as well give it a shot, I guess.”
I left Troy to help her while I spoke to the hair and makeup department over the two-way radio, and by the time I was done sorting out a late night hair fix for Blair after the party, Troy had already covered up most of the obvious platinum spots with the mascara wand. “See?” he said, waving it triumphantly. “It looks fine. Now we can head to the party, and you’ll get the same screen time as all the others.”
He winked at me, and I gave him a small smile. He’d just done a really decent thing for my friend; something that most guys wouldn’t have done. Hell, most guys wouldn’t have even come upstairs when they heard crying, but he’d dropped the party just to come up here and make sure everyone was okay.
Maybe I’d misjudged him when I thought he was still the same douche that he’d been when he left me without a word. Maybe he’d actually grown a heart in the last seven years, and maybe—just maybe—there was a decent guy hiding somewhere underneath all that muscle and expensive fabric.
I guess sooner or later, I’d find out.