Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

Liam

T he fluorescent sign over the salon blinked in bright pink letters: The Mane Attraction. It was wedged between a laundromat and a pawn shop, and the entire place looked like it hadn’t changed since 1983. Pictures of hairstyles, the kind you’d find on VHS covers, filled the windows, and as Nessa opened the door, the faint smell of hairspray wafted out.

“C’mon, sweetie,” Nessa said, nudging me inside. “We’re here for your own good. Even if Jack isn’t in to you, and I think he is, you need to look fierce for your fans.”

The moment we walked in, a woman in a nearly see-through blouse and jeans so tight they had to be painted on sprang up from behind the counter. Her teased hair looked like a helmet, and her eyeliner could cut glass. She shrieked, “Nessa, baby!” and launched herself forward like a missile.

“Moira, keep it together!” Nessa said, laughing as she braced for impact.

The two collided in a hug that looked more like a wrestling match. Moira squeezed Nessa like she was trying to pop her, then backed out of the embrace and turned her eyes on me.

Her gaze started at my face, flicked to my chest, then traveled lower in a way that made me instinctively want to cross my hands over my crotch. “And who is this tall drink of cannoli cream?”

Before I could respond—or throw myself out the nearest window—Nessa clapped her hands on Moira’s shoulders. “Moira, focus. This is Liam. He’s gay.”

Moira’s eyes widened, and she made a noise like a deflating balloon. “He’s gay? Oh my God. Like, for real?” Her jaw dropped. “Ohhhh, you’re that Liam! From the videos!”

My stomach flipped. “You’ve seen them too?” I croaked.

Moira blinked a few times, her face flushing. “Uh…” she started, and then blurted, “I’m a subscriber! Big fan, by the way.”

Heat shot up my neck, and I took a step back, ready to bolt. If I ran fast enough, maybe I could escape before these two women announced my FantasyFans career to the entire borough.

Before I could make my escape, a voice oozed across the room like melted butter. “Well, well, well… what have we here?”

An older woman sauntered into view, wearing a floor-length, bright green kimono and neon-pink lipstick. She piled her bleached-blonde hair high in a bun so tight I wondered if she could still blink. Her name tag read Lola.

Lola looked me up and down like I was the dessert special at an all-you-can-eat buffet. “Ladies,” she purred, “why didn’t you tell me you were bringing me such a delicious little lamb today?”

“This is Liam,” Moira said, still staring at me like she’d won the lottery. “And he’s gay.” She shot a pointed look at Lola.

“Gay? Hmmm, shame for me, but great for the world,” Lola drawled, ignoring Moira’s warning. She looped her arm through mine before I could protest. Her perfume—something floral and heady—enveloped me as she leaned closer. “And this lamb is in desperate need of a makeover. Those eyebrows are criminal.”

Nessa snorted. “Told you, Liam. Caterpillars.”

Lola gasped dramatically and pulled me toward the back of the salon. “Honey, you’re not just getting a makeover—you’re getting a resurrection. Don’t you worry. Mama Lola’s got you covered.”

I looked back at Nessa and Moira for help, but they just grinned and waved like proud parents. “Have fun!” Nessa called, as Lola tugged me through a beaded curtain into what I could only assume was my doom.

Lola led me through the salon, her arm still looped around mine like I was her prized trophy. I stumbled beside her, barely registering the gaudy decor: walls painted a shade of pink so bright it could cause retinal damage, gold-framed mirrors on every available surface, and clusters of blue-haired ladies seated under vintage hair dryers. They glanced up as we passed, their expressions ranging from curious to outright amused.

“Isn’t he just the cutest thing?” Lola crooned, showing me around like a prize pig at the county fair.

Nessa and Moira trailed behind us, giggling and whispering like a pair of middle schoolers. I shot them a pleading look, but they just smirked and kept walking.

We stopped in front of a door labeled The Sanctuary of Beauty . Lola pushed it open with a flourish, revealing a room that looked like the set of a bad spa commercial. A massage table sat in the center, draped with a leopard-print sheet, and the walls were plastered with posters of serene women getting mud masks.

“Welcome to my domain,” Lola said, gesturing dramatically.

Before I could respond, Nessa stepped forward, grinning like a cat that had cornered a mouse. “Liam here makes sexy videos,” she said, giving me a wink. “You know, FantasyFans. The good stuff.”

Lola’s eyes lit up like Christmas had come early. “Oh, really?” she said, turning to me with a predatory grin. “Well, honey, you’ve come to the right place. We’ll have you looking so good, people will throw money at you.”

“Oh, they already do,” Moira chimed in, grinning. “But he needs the full treatment. Waxing, a facial, and don’t you think he’s a little too pale?”

“A spray tan,” Nessa added, nodding sagely. “And manscaping. Desperate manscaping. He’s way too bushy down there.”

My stomach dropped into my shoes. “Can we not talk about this like I’m not standing right here?”

“Oh, hush,” Nessa said, waving me off. “We’re just helping you.”

Lola clapped her hands together, her bangles jingling. “Alright, sugar, hop up on the table. Clothes off, sheet on. Let’s get started.”

I froze. “Wait, like… now?”

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “You wanna look fabulous, don’t you? For Jack and your fans?”

“I don’t…” My words trailed off as I realized there was no escape. I glanced around the room, hoping for a conveniently placed window or trapdoor. Nothing.

“C’mon, sweetie,” Nessa said, plopping down into a nearby chair like this was the best entertainment she’d had all week. “We don’t have all day.”

To my immense relief, Moira grabbed Lola by the arm. “Let’s give him a minute to get ready,” she said, tugging her out the door. “C’mon, you too Nessa.”

Nessa grumbled, then left the room with them.

The door clicked shut, and I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. My usual monthly barber shop visits didn’t prepare me for this level of mortification. But then a thought hit me like a lightning bolt. What if Jack saw me after this? Would he think I looked… better?

The thought was enough to push me into action. I stripped off my clothes in record time and scrambled onto the table, yanking the sheet up over my chest. I’d just managed to situate myself when the door opened again, and Lola swept back in, her arms full of supplies.

“Alright, let’s start with the hard part,” she said cheerfully, setting down a pot of what looked like melted caramel. “A bikini wax.”

I blinked at her, completely lost. “What exactly is a bikini wax?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she whipped back the sheet, leaving me exposed in a way that made me want to curl up and disappear. Before I could protest, she was spreading warm wax around my… well, there.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I yelped, trying to sit up. “What are you doing?!”

“Relax, honey,” she said, patting my thigh. “Women do this all the time. Now put your big boy panties on.”

Before I could argue, she pressed a strip of cloth onto the wax and gave it a firm rub. I barely had time to brace myself before she ripped it off in one swift motion.

“Fuucckkk!!!”

From the other side of the door, I heard Nessa’s voice. “She’s doing the bikini wax first. You know, I didn’t take Liam for a screamer.”

Lola gave me a sympathetic pat on the newly tender area. “See? Not so bad.”

“Not so bad?!” I gasped, clutching the sheet. “Are you kidding?”

“Big boy, remember?” she grinned and grabbed another strip. “One more to go.”

“No, no, no—” My protests were cut off by the second rip, which made me see actual stars.

Lola worked with the precision of an assassin, systematically obliterating every hair in her path. I gritted my teeth through it, trying not to think about how my dignity was being shredded faster than my hair.

When she moved to my eyebrows, I thought I might finally catch a break. But no. The second the first strip ripped off, I let out a startled grunt, tears springing to my eyes. “Are eyebrows supposed to hurt this much?”

“Beauty is pain, sugar,” Lola said, wielding the tweezers now. She yanked out a rogue hair with the same enthusiasm she’d had for the waxing. “But don’t worry, you’re gonna look fabulous.”

I blinked back tears and tried to ignore the blazing inferno that had taken up residence in my crotch. Then I heard Moira’s voice from behind the closed door.

“Hey, remember that video of him and that guy?” she said, her voice practically dripping with amusement.

“You mean Jack,” Nessa replied.

My stomach clenched. Oh no.

“You know,” Moira continued, “when he’s on his knees doing—”

“Shh!” Nessa’s voice cut in, sharp but not sharp enough to mask her laughter. “Moira, there are old ladies out here! Keep it PG.”

“Fine,” Moira said, giggling. “But, you know, when he’s on his knees, remember you told me he needed that patch of hair on his lower back waxed?”

“Oh yeah, girl,” Nessa said, her voice growing louder. “I remember. Hey, Lola! Wax his back too!”

My head whipped toward Lola in alarm. “No, no, no, no—”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Lola interrupted, pointing a lacquered pink nail at me. “Turn over, honey. Back’s next.”

I groaned and swiped at my eyes—what dignity did I have left to save at this point?—then flipped onto my stomach. The leopard-print sheet barely covered me, leaving my bare ass exposed. I buried my face in the table, hoping if I pressed hard enough, I’d just disappear into it.

Lola whistled low. “Oof, they weren’t kidding.”

“Oh my God,” I mumbled into the table, wishing for death. “Can we just get this over with?”

She didn’t bother answering. The warmth of the wax spread over my lower back, and I clenched every muscle I had.

As she pressed a strip onto the wax and smoothed it down, all I could think about was Jack. Would he like this? Would he even notice? Maybe he’d prefer me without all the extra hair. If he did, then maybe—maybe—this would all be worth it.

“You’re doing great, sugar,” Lola murmured, as if I’d just run a marathon instead of laying there naked while she ripped my dignity off in chunks.

She yanked the strip off, and I yelped, biting my lip to keep from screaming again.

From the hallway, Moira’s voice floated through the door. “You think she’s doing his legs too? Because in that one video—”

“Moira!” Nessa barked. “Keep it PG!”

“Well, I was just saying!” Moira shot back, clearly unimpressed by the reprimand.

I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for it all to end. Lola patted the tender spot on my back, sending a fresh wave of humiliation through me. “All done, honey. Fabulous ass, by the way. You’re smooth as a baby’s bottom.”

“Great,” I croaked.

She peeled off her gloves and gave me a satisfied smile. “Now, let’s move on to your facial. Gotta get that glow, baby.”

Lola hummed to herself as she prepped for the facial, arranging jars and brushes on a little tray with the focus of someone performing life-saving surgery. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about how I was paying for the privilege of being tortured. My skin felt like it was on fire, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from the indignity of having my butt critiqued by a woman old enough to be my grandmother.

“There we go,” Lola said, snapping on a fresh pair of gloves. “Let’s get you glowing, sugar. Close your eyes and relax.”

Relax? Sure, that was easy—for someone who wasn’t me.

I exhaled slowly, willing my body to melt into the table, when the door burst open. I shot up, clutching the sheet to my chest like I was the heroine in a Victorian drama.

“Liam!” Nessa’s voice rang out. “Oh my God, Lola, you do such amazing work!”

Moira was right behind her, eyes wide and bright. “Wow, look at him! You’re like a whole new man already.”

Before I could protest, Nessa strode right up to the table and yanked the sheet down to my knees. “Let me see the bikini wax!”

“Nessa!” I gasped, too stunned to move.

“Oh, relax, honey,” she said, waving me off. “We’re all friends here.”

Moira leaned in, scrutinizing my crotch like it was a piece of art in a gallery. “Wow, Lola, this is… flawless. He’s so smooth.”

Lola beamed, clearly taking pride in her handiwork. “I know, right? Like butter. I got the magic touch.”

“Girl, you really do,” Nessa said, patting Lola’s arm. Then she turned to Moira. “You know what? That girl I go to sucks. Book me an appointment for a bikini wax with Lola.”

“Absolutely,” Moira nodded eagerly.

I buried my face in my hands, wishing the table would just swallow me whole. At this point, I was beyond humiliation. I’d transcended it, like some kind of Zen monk who’d found peace in his own suffering.

“Liam, sweetie, are you crying?” Nessa asked, leaning closer.

“No,” I mumbled. “I’m fine. Just… embracing the experience.”

“Well, good!” she beamed. “Because you’re gonna look so hot when this is all done. Jack won’t know what hit him.”