Starboys

swirl the mixture.
“I don’t know… some fear, someone you’re not forgiving. It’s blocking all of the good from coming into your life.”
As I dipped the brush and then began to paint her white locks, I racked my memory for anyone I was holding a grudge against. I couldn’t think of anyone that I needed to forgive.
“I’ve forgiven everyone that might have done me wrong,” I said earnestly. “Can’t really think of anyone off the top of my head that I’ve been harboring a grudge against…”
“What’s all this poison, then?” she asked, her eyes flickering around as if she was looking at invisible butterflies.
“Sorry, poison?”
She rolled her eyes again as if she was trying to explain something very simple to someone very dense. “Anger. Hatred. It poisons the aura. You’ve got a bunch of it here on the edges; it’s old though. Something that happened a long time ago.”
I racked my brain, but still couldn’t think of anything. “Are you sure?” I asked.
She nodded. “Well, once you figure it out, know that it can be undone. Hatred in the aura leaves a mark, but not a scar. All you have to do is forgive the person that did this to you.”
When I wrapped Hazel’s hair in foil, I led her over to the heat treatment chairs. She sat down and crossed her legs again, as if she was queen of the salon. I flipped the heater over her head and turned it on as she sifted through the magazines next to her.
“Alright Hazel, I’m going to leave you under this for a few minutes so we can make your hair as pink as possible. Can I get you some water or tea?”
“Nah, I’m good here,” she said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a book with a naked man’s torso on the front. With a serene expression, she cracked it open and thumbed to a page in the middle.
I lingered a little longer than was necessary, reluctant to leave the presence of this bizarre yet wonderful woman. How did she know all this… all this stuff?
She could just be making things up to mess with me. There were worse ways to spend a retirement.
But still… some of the stuff she was telling me rang true.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Of course I wanted to meet the love of my life. Of course I was desperate to be loved; most people were. It would be easy to hold that as bait, just to get someone to listen to you. And if you were a lonely old person… well, that would be a good way to hold court throughout a conversation.
I grabbed the broom next to my station and swept up Hazel’s soft white hairs into a small, snow-white pile.
There was definitely more hair in this pile than I cut from her mane.
I snapped my head in her direction, half expecting her to have sprouted another limb. But she was sitting there innocently with a slight smile on her face, turning a page of that romance novel.
My eyebrows came together as I tried to explain to myself how there was a huge pile of white hair on the floor. It was likely that there was another old person that came in earlier for a haircut from the stylists on either side of my chair.
A few minutes passed as I cleaned up the area around the chair. All there was left to do now was blow-dry and style.
Casting another look in her direction, I breathed a sigh of relief that she was still there. Part of me was afraid she’d up and disappear with no explanation, leaving me bleeding with questions.
After the heat treatment was done, I guided her back to my chair.
In the few minutes she’d been away, questions bubbled up in my brain, longing to be asked. But when she sat down in front of me, my mind went blank.
She giggled a little as she watched my face. “Ask away.”
I blinked. “Um… I was just wondering what he’d be like,” I said simply as I carefully unwrapped the foil.
“What do you want him to be like?” She asked with a sly little smirk.
“I— I don’t know, I didn’t know I got to choose.”
“You get to choose,” she said with a laugh. “So, what do you want?”
I was silent, thinking as I freed her vivid pink hair from the foil.
“Write it down when you get home tonight,” she said, her silvery eyes dancing with delight. “Once you do that, everything will become clear.”
I nodded, deeply pensive as I unwrapped each foil.
“How would you like me to style it?” I asked.
“Mohawk,” she said simply.
I didn’t know why I was surprised.
It was no time at all before her hair was blow-dried and styled into a spiky, yet gentle pink mohawk shape.
I had to admit that on her with her silvery eyes, it looked stunning.
“Ah, very good. Better than sex,” she said matter-of-factly as she stood up.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her as she came around the chair. It was like she had this weird glow around her; a movie-star quality that I couldn’t quite place.
“Excellent work, just as expected,” she said, handing me two bills. “Here’s a tip for you. Use it to go get yourself some nice shoes.”
I looked down at the two dollar bills in my hand. “Um, thank you,” I said, a little crestfallen.
“Oh, you’re welcome dear. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”
She took a few steps toward the exit as I pocketed the money, then turned back and said, “And Charlie, dear?”
I looked up into her wild silvery eyes.
“Don’t ever settle for average. You’re shiny.” 
And just like that, she made her way out of the salon and vanished into the mall.
I was speechless as I watched her go, turning over all of the unexplainable, bizarre things she’d said to me.
“What happened to you?” my coworker Scott asked as he walked past me to his chair. He set his purse down on the floor and began arranging the