It's In The Stars. Buffy Andrews
never met anyone quite like Victoria. She’s a slut, but a great slut. She’s definitely the horniest woman I’ve ever met and admits she lost count of her sexual partners by the time she was sixteen. At that age, my make-out sessions consisted of kissing and some light petting. I’ve learned a lot from Victoria over the past year and in some weird way, I admire her. She’s bold and comfortable with her sexuality and that’s something I’ve always struggled a bit with. I’m always afraid that when a guy sees me naked he’ll mock me. Aside from my hammer toe, one of my breasts is noticeably larger than the other.
Victoria’s news bummed me big time. As much as I liked the book, I would’ve liked seeing Hottie at the bar more. Maybe she was right. Maybe this horoscope thing is stupid. Just as I began to mentally list the reasons why following my horoscope was a dumb idea, I glanced down at the newspaper. I had opened it to the horoscope page when Victoria called. I read Cancer’s entry and when it said what I’d been thinking, I decided to keep the faith – at least for another day.
My hair has been driving me insane for a few weeks. I was going to let it grow out but it’s at that in-between stage and I don’t think I can stand to look in a mirror one more time and see the tangled mess of black curls. As an aside, I’ve got to be the only adult who still uses a child’s detangling spray. Seriously. When I was little, Mom couldn’t get through my hair without it. Trying to calm my curls without drowning them in detangling spray is downright dangerous for the comb. And now that my hair is getting longer, the tangles are becoming even more tangled. It’d be very easy for me to grow dreadlocks, which I’ve never seriously considered even though Victoria thinks I should.
So today’s horoscope suggesting the makeover was just the push I needed. After the gym, I planned to hit the salon and see what can be done about this unruly mop. Maybe I’ll even ask for some highlights. Pink or blue would be perfect. I needed a makeover.
For a Saturday morning, the gym was packed. I found the only free treadmill and it was wet with sweat. Gross! Why are some people pigs? Seriously. You’re supposed to wipe off the machine when you’re done exercising but obviously some idiot didn’t. So I got some wipes and cleaned it off. It made me gag. I’m a bit neurotic when it comes to public surfaces anyway, and actually seeing the sweat on the machine made me itch.
About forty minutes into my run, I spotted Hottie Advertising Guy across the gym. I’d never seen him here before, but I wasn’t surprised he was a member because we had a company discount.
My throat tightened as he walked towards me. Sweat dripped from my face and onto the treadmill. My shirt and shorts were soaked. I nonchalantly sniffed my armpit and confirmed it smelled like sweaty socks.
Maybe he won’t recognize me, I thought. He’s never seen my hair in a ponytail. But that also means he’s never seen my pointy elf ears. I felt like a fly caught in a spider web. I was stuck, unable to move, waiting for hope to be sucked out of me.
I looked down. Keep going. Keep going. Don’t stop. You do not see me. That’s it. Walk on by.
“Hey Jason!”
Hottie Advertising Guy turned around.
A guy dressed like he was a walking ad for Nike yelled, “Can you spot me?”
Thank God! Hottie Advertising Guy turned around to help Nike Man lift weights.
I took a sip of water and checked to see how many calories I’d burned. Oh, shit! It was 666. I loathe that number. I increased the speed on the treadmill so the counter would change.
Normally, I’d lift weights after finishing my run on the treadmill. But I didn’t want to take the chance Hottie would see me all sweaty and stinky, so I bagged that part of my workout. Instead, I hit the sauna before showering and going to the salon.
Stephen ran his slender fingers through my mess of black curls. He’s been doing my hair for a year now and we hit it off almost immediately. Too bad he prefers guys. I usually go about every five weeks but I hadn’t seen him for a while.
“So what do you think?”
He shook his head. “It looks like shit, but it’s not a lost cause.”
I smiled. “I can always count on you to be brutally honest, can’t I?”
He patted my shoulder. “And you wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“True.”
“So I’ll snip here and snip there and layer it a little and you should be good to go.”
“What about a blue chunk on the side?”
“Blue? I was thinking pink.”
“Pink is good.”
“Yeah, let’s do pink. It will pop against your black hair. You’re sure, right?”
“Absolutely. My horoscope told me to try something different.”
Stephen cracked his neck. “You actually believe in that crap?”
I shrugged. “Nothing else has worked so why not give it a try? Maybe if I follow it I’ll find a guy.”
Stephen threw a gray drape over me and snapped it at the back of my neck. “Sorry, I can’t help you in that department. But give it time. It’ll happen.”
“I just turned twenty-six, Stephen. That’s TWO SIX! I’m more than a quarter century old. Another twenty-five and I’ll be fifty and my life will be half over. I’m ready to find Mr. Right, or at least a few Maybes. And following ‘normal’ dating procedures hasn’t worked.”
Stephen cleared his throat. “By normal dating procedures you mean hanging out at area bars?”
“Yeah. And staking out the gym, which hasn’t proven advantageous either. Nor has the library or the bookstore or the coffee shop where all the nerdy but nice guys set up office for the day in booths that have receptacles underneath. So yeah, it’s me and Horoscope, baby. Can’t do any worse than I’m doing now.”
Stephen worked his magic, snipping and layering so quickly his hands were a blur.
“So how’s David?”
“We broke up.”
“You broke up? But I thought he was your forever.”
“Me, too. But he dumped me for a guy fifteen years younger.”
“Oh, Stephen. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Not many people do. It happened about two weeks ago. I came home and he had moved out.”
“Shit!”
“Yeah. I’m swearing off men for a while.”
“Geez, we make a good pair.”
Stephen laughed. “It’s just too bad we both prefer men.”
By the time Stephen was finished, I felt like a new woman. And the pink chunk on the side was the perfect choice.
“Stephen, you’re a genius. Thanks!”
He removed the drape. “At least I make my clients happy.”
I stood. “David’s dumb.”
“And I’m dumber for falling for him.”
I patted Stephen’s back and handed him a tip. “Don’t worry. Mr. Right will come along.”
“Thanks,” Stephen said. “Yours will, too.”
I had some errands to run before going home and getting ready to go out with the girls. By the time I got to Joe’s, Victoria, Frankie and Jada were cozying up at the bar. Jada saw me first. “Love. The. Hair.”
Victoria and Frankie turned around and I was greeted by a chorus of oohs and aahs.
“Love the pink!” Frankie said. “Bold and sexy.”
“Who