Starboys

Starboys


Jeremy Jenkins


Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
A Note from the author
Newsletter
Also by Jeremy Jenkins


Chapter One
“Have you ever been in love?” asked the old woman in my chair.
“I think so,” I answered warily. “Why, have you?”
Clients usually didn’t ask me deep questions like that. The best course of action was to deflect the question and turn it back onto them; people were usually more than happy to talk about themselves.
I gave the chair a few pumps with my foot, bringing her up to my height, then began picking at her wispy white hair with my comb.
“Of course I’ve been in love, dear! A few times, actually. I’m as old as dirt. If I never found it anywhere in my life, it would be a tragedy!”
The corner of my mouth turned up a bit, delighted by her sass. Luckily, she took the bait and would continue to talk while I worked on her hair.
“Okay Hazel,” I said, pulling out my phone to peer at my client notes.
I squinted and had to read twice in disbelief.
“It says here that you want hot pink hair,” I said, my eyebrows coming together.
“Oh yes, that’s why I booked an appointment with you. They say you’re the best colorist in the city.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” I said modestly, trying to hide my flattered smile.
A few seconds passed in silence as I pawed through her hair, examining the roots. Usually, a woman of her age and skin tone had wiry gray roots, but all I saw was soft, pure white hair all the way down to the quick.
“So… any particular reason you decided on hot pink?” I asked, thinking of what I’d have to mix to get that vivid hue.
She made eye contact with me in the mirror and looked confused, as if I’d asked an absurd question. Then she shrugged and said, “I just felt like it. Decided on it earlier this week.”
“Oh, alright,” I said, marveling at her pure white hair. “You know, once we go pink, it’s going to stay pink until it grows out. The dye I’m using is… it’s very permanent.”
“Good,” she said with a determined smile.
For a moment I wondered if she was in her right mind. The type of quirkiness she was showing me was almost like a flavor of Alzheimers mixed with confidence.
She saw the look on my face in the mirror, and then her face crinkled into a bright smile.
“You’ve never been in love before,” she concluded.
I frowned. I’d hoped she was distracted from my diversion earlier.
“I have,” I said, willing it to be true. But the way she was looking at me so kindly in the mirror was like she could see through all of my layers to the scared, insecure guy underneath. That guy had never been loved.
“No you haven’t,” she argued.
“How can you tell?” I asked with my hands on my hips.
“Your aura is all off,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if that was a completely normal thing to say. “You’re all locked up like this!”
She held her arms tightly to her chest in a protective motion.
I pursed my lips and reached for the Barber’s Cape. “Well, not everyone is lucky enough to be like you, having loved multiple times,” I snapped.
She looked unaffected, watching me carefully.
“…sorry,” I said, “I hope I wasn’t rude.”
“Not at all, dear. Not everyone likes to hear the truth. But it’s all I can see in people, so I don’t get the point of glazing over everything important with silly pleasantries. Rubs some people the wrong way.”
She reached for my hand as I helped her out of the chair.
When her warm, papery skin touched mine, it felt as if liquid happiness was spreading through me.
Hazel gave me a knowing look as she stood up to her full height — only about five feet.
Even though she was little, I could tell that I was in the presence of someone who’d burned a blazing path through her life. I was in the presence of someone extraordinary.
Stricken by this… this strangeness, I couldn’t think of anything else to say except, “Who are you?”
She smiled knowingly and simply said, “I’m your client, Hazel. And I want hot pink hair.”
I shook my head, thinking maybe I was imagining this weirdness. Maybe she was just a normal client after all, but with a charming touch of madness.
“N-nevermind,” I said, regaining my professionalism. “Let’s go wash your hair.”
I sat her down at one of the sinks and she leaned her head back as if she’d done this a thousand times.
Upside-down, she looked younger, more serene.
As I tested the temperature of the water, I knew all of the right things a stylist should talk about. I could ask her if she had children; if she had pets. If it seemed like she was stylish, I would compliment her clothing and ask where she got it. I could gloss over this otherworldly quality about her and pretend that she was just like any other client.
But my mind was picking at the oddity of her comment earlier; I couldn’t let it escape into the ether.
“So you’ve been in love multiple times, hm?” I asked, fishing for more information.
I had to have more of that realness; that authenticity.
“Oh yes. The first one was a man that was so boring it was like he was dead before he was alive. Luckily I had the good sense not to marry him — he was always droning on about trying to get a promotion at this company he worked at… not an exciting or curious bone in his body. Bleh!”
I chuckled a little.
“Oh, you’ve had one of those,” she assumed, making eye contact with me upside-down.
“…I guess I have,” I confessed, thinking of my first boyfriend.
“There was stability there, but no fire!