“Wow.” I stared into the mirror in disbelief. “Just, wow.”

“Is that a good wow, or bad wow?” asked Tommy, the hair stylist that had just spent the better part of four hours transforming me. His voice was nervous, but hopeful.

“Oh, it’s a very, very good wow,” I replied. I touched the soft, slightly wavy platinum blonde strands. “It’s the best wow.”

Tommy laughed and clutched his heart like he had just narrowly avoided a heart attack. “Thank god.”

I could barely believe what I was seeing. I looked like a totally different person. A stranger was staring back at me from the mirror. Then, I looked closer. My almond shaped eyes were still there. Their odd, pond-scum green color was still there, although they looked almost emerald with the new hair. My nose was still there. My lips were still there. It was still me in the mirror. Just a better, much more fashionable version of me.

The cut was almost as different as the color. No longer did my hair fall in looping ringlets past my bra strap. Now it was a sophisticated medium length, and a number of products had toned down it’s natural poofy-ness. It lay in tame layers over my shoulders, feeling lighter than air and silky soft.

“Tommy,” I said, turning to look at him, “you’re a genius.”

He grinned. “Oh, go on.”

Ryan had told me that this was where Victoria got her hair cut, but when I’d shown up at the address, I hadn’t been sure. The salon was in an old, somewhat run-down mansion in a corner of east Austin that still hadn’t been reached by the inevitable slow march of gentrification. From the outside, one might expect an antebellum mansion, replete with dark colors, the smell of mothballs, and ancient furniture.

Inside, was a totally different story. Each room was painted a different, super-bright color. Huge, modern crystal chandeliers lit the space with a warm, welcoming glow. Walls had been knocked down and rearranged to turn what used to be a home into a bustling salon. There were hair stylists, aestheticians, manicurists, makeup artists… it was heavenly.

For once in my life, I felt absolutely no guilt laying down my dad’s credit card to pay for my extremely expensive, extremely gorgeous new hair. Or the enormous tip I gave Tommy, who absolutely deserved it. My dad had enthusiastically endorsed my trip to the salon, telling me that I ‘deserved a day at the spa’ after being turned out of my apartment and having to replace everything I owned. I couldn’t help but agree.

It turns out that losing everything you own to a police crime scene turns out to be pretty stressful after a couple of days. I had to re-buy almost everything that I owned, right down to socks, deodorant, and toothpaste. It had been an expensive and instructive lesson on having renter’s insurance. I would definitely never make that mistake again.

Adding to the overall bizarreness of it all, I ran into Victoria at the salon’s entrance.

“Oh my god, Rosie! You went blonde!” she cried by way of a greeting. She hugged me, and I staggered backwards in what was mostly shock. Being hugged by Victoria was a bit like being hugged by an ostrich. She was so incredibly tall and bony that it unbalanced me.

“Someone who’s advice I value suggested it would look nice,” I said with a grin.

She grinned right back. “Did Ryan tell you that flattery will get you everywhere? Because it will get you everywhere. Are you excited for Friday?”

“If by excited you mean terrified, then yes.” I still could hardly believe that Victoria thought enough of me to let me open for her.

“You’re going to do great.” Her confidence in me made me even more nervous. She paused when she saw my expression. “Do you want me to listen to your set beforehand?”

I blinked. “You’d do that?”

She shrugged her bony shoulders. “Sure. I don’t mind at all. It’ll be fun. We could do it Thursday night if you want.” She grinned. “It’ll be a girls night in.”

Victoria was much nicer than I thought someone so famous would be. Then again, Ian and Jason had been nice to me, too. I knew that the music business was known for being cutthroat and competitive, but knowing Ryan seemed to be making all the difference.

“That would be amazing.” I’d played my set for Ryan and Trina twice already, but Victoria was more objective. She wouldn’t be as worried about hurting my feelings if my performance needed work. Plus, since I was opening for her, she’d want to make sure my set was solid. Otherwise the crowd would be in a bad mood by the time she got on stage.

“Cool,” she said. “I’ll text you my address and you can meet me there around… eight maybe?”

“Absolutely,” I stuttered. Saying that was feeling shocked and flattered was a true understatement. I was flabbergasted.

“Great, I’ll see you there.”

Then she swept off, leaving me feeling even more unreal than I had before.

“Holy cow,” Trina said when I arrived home. She did a double-take from her position on our new (well, used) couch, where she was playing a game on her Nintendo. “You look amazing!”

Feeling bold, I did a little spin for her. I’d finally taken her advice and started dressing better. Today, I was wearing black leggings, black knee-high boots, and a deep, marine blue tunic. The clothes were all second hand, but they still looked a lot better than my previous wardrobe. My new bright blonde hair popped against the dark colors. I’d even opted for makeup today, wearing eyeliner and a pinky-red lip stain. I looked more put together than I had in ages, and it felt surprisingly great.

“Seriously,” Trina said, rising up to get a better look at me. “You look like a rock star.”

I grinned. “That’s the idea, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Damn right that’s the idea.” She pulled out her phone and snapped a couple of pictures. “I’m so glad you let me pick all your new clothes.” I suspected she was also glad that the police still had ninety-nine percent of my old ones as well.

“Me too,” I admitted. “It was time to move beyond athleisure.”

My admission made her squeal. “Thank you, Jesus,” she said, addressing the deity by staring up at the ceiling as if Jesus lived upstairs. “Thank you for making Rosie see the light and put the yoga pants away.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think Jesus has time to worry about my clothes.”

“Oh hush,” she replied. “Your old clothes were a sin and you know it.”

I didn’t argue. She smirked in satisfied reply.

“So, are you going out with Ryan tonight?” she asked leadingly. She knew me well enough to guess that I hadn’t gotten all done up just cause. I grinned in reply and giggled again.

“We’re going on a real date,” I finally told her. “Like grown-ups do.” It was our first ‘proper’ date. We’d spent plenty of nights at Ryan’s place lately, making love and snuggling. This morning he’d texted that he wanted to take me out somewhere nice. I’d been wondering all day what that could mean.

A knock on our door told me that I wouldn’t have to wonder for much longer. Trina gave me a high-five and slunk off deeper in the apartment. I squared my shoulders and headed toward the door.