Big Haired Bitches - 3. The Devil Wears Prada

The contrast between Saturday and Monday was night and day. It was like Picture-gate had never happened. I was in, I thought. And the most important part was that Tori backed off without me having to play my hand. I don’t know if I would have been able to actually destroy Eric, but I was glad my well received threat made that decision a moot point.

I did get the feeling, however, that Victoria’s sudden niceness was all a facade. When she invited me to sit under the tree with her and her pals in the center of the quad that following Friday, I got the distinct feeling that my façade was about to fall apart.

I told Eric about it during the first hour passing period as we waited to go into junior English. We both had AP and once we’d started seeing each other regularly, he’d gotten his dad, the benefactor of the science wing, to make a call and have him switched.

“She probably just wants to get to know you,” he said, leaning into me intimately as I leaned back against a locker. He’d gotten much more flirty in public over the week since the pool party and I started to wonder what that was all about. “I never stop talking about you at home.”

“She doesn’t strike me as much of a listener,” I said with a crooked smile.

“Just give it a chance,” he told me. “She’s really sweet to her friends, and maybe she’s trying to pull you in.”

I didn’t buy it for a second. I followed him in to Professor Azle’s class. He made us call him Professor Azle and not Mr. Azle or Sir, reminding us daily that he could be down the street teaching at Rice or Sam Houston, but he’d chosen to take the pay cut in order to mold young minds. Since his tenure had begun 4 years prior, no one at Summit had made anything less than a 4 on the AP exam.

As I sat there not paying attention to him drone on and on about the class system and Pip in Great Expectations, I couldn’t help but reflect over the past two weeks.

I’m totally in, I thought. Tori is being nice to me, as per the conditions of my iron clad blackmail. Eric is super cute and my boyfriend. Aside from the possible pitfall of him finding out about the blackmail, I didn’t see anything coming in the way of that.

The biggest change of all was that I was starting to feel comfortable at Summit. Nate wasn’t my sole friend anymore. Eric’s buddies were getting to know me. Tori’s two henchmen tolerated me, if they weren’t quite sure why I was sometimes around. All in all, it was like the Great Lexus Chainsaw Massacre had never happened.

But now Tori’s pleasantries had reached a new height.

Lunch.

Where you sit at lunch in high school is the single most important thing to a seventeen year old. Everyone wants to sit amongst friends, of course, but the lunch social order is so complex and rigidly defined, Charles Dickens would have trouble contextualizing it. The cream of the crop got shade in our quad. That meant the most popular and powerful juniors and seniors got to sit under the two large trees in the center. Currently, I occupied space next to Eric on the outskirts of the second tree. I wasn’t cool enough to be on the bench or even next to the bench, and Eric had demoted himself to be next to me.

The only better spot was the bench under the larger center tree in the quadrangle: Victoria’s bench. It was widely known that she and her groupies sat at that bench with a rotating array of social climbers sitting at their feet. One would abandon one’s friends to be seen at the center bench. It was like playing at Centre Courte in Wimbledon… nothing was quite like it.

The walk to the quad after the fourth period bell felt like a funeral march. I honestly did feel like a lamb walking to his own slaughter, it was crazy. What frightened me more than anything was that I couldn’t predict what Tori was up to. I’d been at Summit Hill for two weeks and she was as much a mystery as ever.

“Hey, Logan,” Tori’s tall and skinny right hand man said to me as I rounded the last corner to the open area where juniors and seniors were gathering. He’d never spoken to me before, and it felt weird to have him walk so closely in step with me. I surveyed the hall for Eric, but he was nowhere to be found.

“So, it’s no secret that you and Eric are seeing each other. It’s tres cute according to those that matter,” he said in a voice that was just a shade away from being flamy. It was deep enough to pass, but the uptalk and the quick cadence had my gaydar lodged somewhere between Orange and Red Hot Flaming.

“Um… and who would those people be?”

“You know who they are,” he said, as if these Sultans of Cool sat around a circular table and made important decisions about who would be the Ellen to someone else’s Portia.

“Well, the next time you talk to them, tell ‘em I said thank you,” I replied with an exaggerated grin.

“So you don’t deny it?”

“Deny what?” by now we were at the bench and Tori’s big hair was glistening in my eye. She looked up and smiled as we approached.

“He doesn’t deny it, Tor. He’s totally dating your brother,” Malebot #1 said.

“I knew it,” Tori sang in that siren voice that would have crushed lesser men. I was immune. “And I’m totally on board, let me tell you.”

Her face confused me. She knew I was seeing her brother. She’d seen the pictures of me seeing her brother all over his face. What was this about? Maybe she just wanted to see if we were going anywhere more serious.

She gave me a smile and I returned it with a nod. “Um, speaking of. Where is Eric?” I asked.

“He’ll be around soon,” Tori said. The other girl in the trio that could have shared one eye just as easily as they shared one brain hadn’t spoken a single word. Instead, she looked at me vacantly. “We wanted to talk to you privately for a second. I feel bad about how we started off, with the car and the photos.”

She spoke nonchalantly, indicating that she had told Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum about my threat.

“I just want us to kick things off on the right foot. Now that you’re dating my brother, and I’m sure people are going to catch on soon if you keep having little meetings by the lockers, I think you deserve a Perse family makeover.”

I couldn’t tell what her angle was. Was she calling me ugly? Was this the scene in a teen comedy where we slow motion walked through the mall, people clearing our path as our hair got blown by indoor wind? How many people not named Rachel Leigh Cook actually went around doing montage makeovers?

“Should I be offended by that?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

“Of course not, oh my god. I don’t mean it like that,” she said. “You’re a total knockout. But even those of us with natural beauty can stand to enhance it a little. Come on. It’s my treat I want to bond with you. Are you busy after school today?”

I had planned on meeting up with a friend of mine from South Houston after school, but in the spirit of accepting her white flag, I decided that Lucy could wait until after the makeover. Just as I nodded my head to confirm, Eric waltzed up, dropping every ounce of his beauty next to me, and put his arm around my shoulder. Maybe I did need to spruce up.

“So what’s the big meet about?” he asked. He didn’t really hang out with his sister much, but when he did, you could tell he loved her a lot. I got the sense they’d bonded early on over Eric’s sexuality and their mutual social order.

“Well, your boyfriend and I are having a little R&R after school, if you don’t mind sharing,” Tori told him.

“I don’t mind. But, um. The B word? When did this become official?” he asked me, eyes narrowed and eyebrow raised. “Not that I’m objecting. I just… I feel like I should have been the one to ask him, you know?”

“I’m sorry, Eric,” Tori said in a voice so fake it could have been sold on a back alley in Chinatown. “I figured when you told me that you were going to ask Logan to go public, it was okay for me to tell Whit and Taylor.”

It was the first time I’d heard their names. The problem was, I could have guessed which was which, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if I was wrong.

“It’s no big deal, Tor. Just let me ask him first,” Eric said. “Logan. Will you go public with me?”

I wasn’t sure what public meant to these people. I hadn’t tried to hide that we were seeing each other from anyone. We walked closely in the halls, short of holding hands. We spent every passing period and lunch together. We even rode into school together on some mornings when Eric stayed over at my house. I was already public. The rest was up to him.

“Of course I will go public with you,” I said with a grin. “Do I get a letterman jacket or something? A lavaliere maybe?”

“We’ll see,” Eric winked. “I’ll get you something special. And I’ll get to do this.”

He leaned over and kissed me, right there in center quad. I felt like everyone in Summit Hill was watching me and that in a second they’d start whispering. No one watched and even less people whispered.

“Let me go tell the guys before they hear it from someone else,” Eric said.

Eric and I had spent long nights talking about sexuality, and I’d come to the conclusion that he was out to his friends and family and that it wasn’t quite a big deal. The Perse name was akin to royalty in Northwest Houston and I doubted anyone would have given the heir apparent a hard time. As Eric walked away, I wondered how that acceptance would sit if anyone ever saw the photos I’d taken. It was one thing to know your friend was gay… it was another thing to see him smoking pole.

Tori’s eerie niceness continued through lunch and into the afternoon when she picked me up in front of my car in the teacher’s lot.

“Leave the Rover,” she said. “We’re taking the Audi out tonight.”

Her face glowed in the sunlight. Her eyes were darkened by designer shades, but that didn’t stop them from emitting evil rays. I noticed her two henchmen were missing from her side and I realized this really was a one-on-one bonding session between us. She might have been playing nice, and I was going to play along, but five days wasn’t enough to make me forget that she was the lord of the underworld.

“Where are we off to?” I asked, buckling in. She sped off towards Main with little regard to pedestrians or other cars.

“I was thinking that we could go to the Frederic Fekkai salon downtown, and Frederic himself happens to be in this week so you’re in luck. And then you and I can hit up some of my favorite stores. We’ll get you a new outfit, maybe a pair of sunglasses. If you keep squinting like that, you’ll develop crow’s feet before you’re 30.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The gloves really were off. She spoke to me like I was a human being and not a piece of trash beneath her. Maybe the hatchet was buried.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Why are you being so nice to me?”

She turned her head for a second and then looked at me, speeding through a yellow light as she did.

“When my brother came to me and said he wanted to go public with you today, I realized something. This little thing between you and me is so childish and stupid. You make him happy and that makes me happy.”

She sounded sincere. I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and let my guard down. Her brother’s feelings towards me, fully requited, by the way, were bigger than her and me.

“You know, he had a really rough time a couple years ago,” she said. I could see downtown Houston approaching. The smog reminded me of home. “When he was outed in middle school, he didn’t go to class for two months. He just stayed home and got really depressed. It’s why we’re in the same grade. It took a lot for him to get comfortable with who he is and for his friends to accept that. I guess I’m happy that he’s found someone to share that with.”

Then she did something unspeakable. I almost flew out of the car when it hit me, but I held on to the door handle for dear life. She smiled at me. Not an evil grin or smirk. Not a pursed lip, peppered with anger or malice. It was a smile. A real down home human being smile.

We talked about Eric a little more and then changed the subject to the other two stooges. She told me Whit’s story as she circled around downtown looking for a spot to park close to Fekkia’s hair salon. She finally settled on handing the keys over to a valet.

“Whit has been my best friend since the ninth grade. Her family found out they had oil under their house, and then bada bing… they moved to Summit. Very Beverly Hillbillies, but she’s adjusting,” Tori prattled on. “You should have seen her before I got my hands on her. Red frizzy hair. Freckles. It was like Lindsay Lohan circa Parent Trap, I swear. Not a good look.”

“And Taylor?”

“You don’t really want to know about Taylor,” she cautioned. She opened the door to the spa and ushered me in. “Trust me. Some things are better left a mystery.”

That admission made me a little nervous. What was his story that it was so bad? Mafia ties? Was he a drug mule?

She took off her shades and immediately went back to her high pitched affected voice that got her what she wanted and left no prisoners behind.

“Hello, Claire,” she said to the lady at the desk, dressed in all black. “I have an appointment to see Frederic.”

Claire typed a number into the phone console, said: “Tor is here,” and then hung up.

“Frederic will be right out,” Claire said. She handed us both a bottle of Perrier water and a second later, a flamboyantly French man with a ‘zick axzent’ came around the grey brick wall.

“Tori, my favzorite belle fille,” he said.

“Freddy, it’s been too long. How is LA?”

“Perfect, mon amour. Zimply perefect.”

They gave each other two air kisses and fired away in French for a second. At one point, they looked at me and Frederic whispered something in Tori’s ear. Tori nodded and then Frederic reached over and grabbed a finger full of my hair. He nodded vigorously, said more stuff in French and then whisked me off behind the grey wall into the most pristine black and white salon I’d ever seen. It beat getting my hair cut at the barber on MLK Blvd.

“Je vais vous faire un shampooing,” Frederic said. I just looked at him and nodded. He eased me down into a sink chair, pulled the lever and I flew back. A second later, warm water cascaded over my scalp.

“Zo, jou are ze one who finally got Monsieur Perse to open up, no?” he asked me. He sounded even more muffled than normal under the water.

“I guess so,” I said.

“He’s a good boy,” Frederic said, getting just a little bit of spit on my forehead. “Jour are a… how do zey say? A lucky man.”

I was touched by a pang of guilt for a second. Eric liked me, that was clear. I liked him too, but obviously not as much. I worried what it would do to him to find out I had taken those pictures. I pushed the thought out of my head and forced myself to respond to Frederic.

“Thank you,” I said. I leaned back and enjoyed the head massage. An hour later, I looked into a hand held mirror and saw the magic this Frenchman had performed. It was like I had been living my life eating nothing but flank steak and then BAM! Here was a fillet minion.

The cut and color weren’t drastic. In fact I didn’t even realize he’d darkened my hair at all. I flipped my fingers through my new, shorter, and much more Euro-trendy do and I smiled.

“He lookz good, Mademoiselle,” he said to Tori.

“I do. I do, Mademoiselle,” I said with a grin. “How much is this?”

“Nonsense,” he replied, sounding genuinely offended. “It’s all taken carez of. You have a nice day. You come back and see us, we?”

“We we,” I said, using the only French I knew, courtesy of the Madeline movies from grade school. I stood and admired my new cut. I couldn’t stop fingering my head.

“You haven’t stopped touching your hair for an hour,” Tori said as we meandered around Barney’s. One of her friends was pulling looks for me, the second round of things I needed to try on. It was the most stress free shopping I’d ever done—probably because I was yet to see a sale sign and we’d somehow managed to get served champagne and strawberries.

Tori had made it clear after my gaff at Fekkai’s that she was treating, no ifs, ands or buts about it.

“I asked you on this trip, and so I’ll take care of everything.”

Two credit card swipes and 600 dollars worth of clothes later, I had two brand new outfits and a killer hair cut. I wondered where this girl’s parents were that she could just charge this much money without batting an eye.

“I hope you had fun,” Tori said seriously as she pulled into her driveway.

“I did,” I said. Every guard I had about her was down. I couldn’t help but feel guilty for suspecting her early on. She wasn’t the monster I made her out to be. Deep down, Eric was right. She was really nice to those people she liked.

Speaking of Eric, the minute he saw my haircut as Tori and I waltzed into the house, he demanded I go upstairs and model for him.

“You look amazing,” he said, walking right behind me, with his hand around my waist. “I just wanna eat you up.”

“Down boy,” I said. I swatted his hand away from my crotch. When we finally reached his bedroom, he turned me around into his door and pinned me against it.

“I thought I was going to model,” I whispered with a smile.

“The buyers have seen enough,” he replied. He kissed me deeply, and eased his hand down my torso until it rested just over my crotch. I craned my head back and gave him full access to my neck, which he gladly took, kissing his way down my shoulder. In a move reserved for choreographed love scenes in movies, Eric intertwined our hands, lifted them over our heads, and pinned me to the wall with his body, ravaging my lips with his kiss the entire time.

He pulled my shirt off and dragged me to the bed, smiling and biting at the bit the entire time. I loved it when he got frisky… it meant I didn’t have to. That night, I let him do all the work.

Before I knew it, I was naked and lying face down into his pillow. He licked the entire length of my back, stopping right above my ass. He massaged my cheeks with his hands, slowly getting closer to my hole with his thumbs as he worked. I let out moan after moan, letting him know just how much I appreciated his efforts.

The real clutch came when he lowered his own naked body over me, grinding his rock hard cock into my ass. He moaned into my ear loudly and I was glad the kids had a wing to themselves.

“I want to fuck you, Logan,” he whispered sexily, the vulgarity of the statement neutralized because of how sweet he said it. I lifted upwards into him, partly to alert him that I was down to get fucked and partly to free my impossibly hard boner from the sheets.

Like a pro, Eric rolled a condom onto his dick and slicked lube all over my ass, leaving me wanting that body contact more and more. It was excruciating waiting for him to get ready, and when he finally climbed back on, I was ready to go.

Before Eric, I had had a good amount of sex. I was by no means a world class slut or anything, but I’d taken a couple of virginities, let a couple of closeted jocks test their feelings out on me, and sucked a lot of dicks. In fact, I felt like I’d kissed enough frogs to deserve the prince that plowed in and out of me like he was getting paid.

“Fuck yeah,” he said over and over in rhythm with his fucking. It felt incredible to have him pump in and out of me. Definitely one of the best I’d ever had.

Before long, I heard the tell tale signs of a guy reaching his limit. It was the one thing I would change about Eric if I could, but stamina comes with time. And I’m so fucking tight and hot from behind, it’s a wonder he held his load that long.

I arched back as he dug deep into me. I reached under my torso, grabbed my own cock and began pumping away furiously. The goal was to cum just as he did, but he beat me by almost a minute.

We finished, collapsed in a heap of semen and sweat on his soiled sheets and tried to catch our breath.

“Your mom must wonder why you’re constantly changing your sheets,” I said, pulling his face in for a post coital kiss.

“My mom hasn’t washed a sheet in as long as I’ve been alive,” he said, scooting in close to me and cuddling. His eyes were so sexy and cute, yet vulnerable. It was like looking into the deep end of a swimming pool. I had no clue how far down he went.

“Are you gonna stay the night?” he cooed, closing his eyes and breaking the trance I was under.

“I would like for nothing more,” I whispered, punctuating it with a kiss.

“Good,” he smiled. We fell asleep moments later, only to wake up for round two halfway through the night.

       **

In the shower the next morning, which we took together in a horny attempt to lower our carbon footprint, Eric asked me how my day date with his sister had gone.

“It was good,” I said yawning. It was almost noon on a Saturday but the two of us had gotten precious little sleep. “It was surprisingly fun.”

“And you got a kick ass haircut out of it,” he said, running his fingers through my hair.

“What can I say? I’m turning all Summit Hill on you,” I said, turning to face him. “Are you sure you didn’t like me because I was wide-eyed and naïve?”

“I like you because you’re cute and honest,” Eric replied.

“I’m not cute. Puppies are cute. I’m dangerous and rugged,” I said, picking him up off the shower floor. He squealed, his voice getting two or three octaves higher. I set him down in a fit of laughter and we finished up and toweled off.

I expected things to go back to normal after Tori and I bonded, but they continued to get stranger and stranger. Her niceness reached a fever pitch that afternoon when she invited me out with her two Watsons that night.

“We’re going to Katsuya for sushi and drinks after,” she said to me, popping two almonds in her mouth. I looked at Eric and he said he was fine with that.

“I’ll be late though,” he said, shoveling a plate of eggs into his face. I fiddled with my toast and fruit as he explained why. “I have the golf tournament with Dad at the country club tonight. And there’s a big dinner after.”

“Oh yeah, I totally forgot about that,” Tori said, less than convincingly. If she’d actually forgotten, she could have fooled me. “I guess you’re stuck with little old me, Loges. If you still want to come, that is.”

“You should totally go,” Eric said. He stood up, kissed me on the cheek, and crossed the kitchen to dump his plate in the sink. “I like that you two are getting along.”

“So do I,” Tori said.

Eight hours later, I was dressed and ready to go. I’d stayed over at the Perse house, at Tori’s insistence.

“Your clothes are already here. Whit and Taylor are coming over to lay out, you may as well stay,” she said. It would have been a blatant lie to say I wasn’t excited. The bitches lived in such a different world. It was like spending the day at a spa.

We layed out from two to four, sipping mojitos and discussing just how sad Jennifer Aniston’s life was.

“I mean anyone who dates John Mayer and Vince Vaughn is just rolling in the deep,” Taylor said, taking a sip of his drink. “If I ever reach that rock bottom, someone kill me.”

“Um, Taylor are you forgetting that you dated Max Chaffin last year,” Whit chimed. She said very few things, but I could tell they were always zingers. I had no clue who Max Chaffin was, but he was on the same rung as John Mayer, so it couldn’t have been a good thing.

“Momentary fluke,” Taylor responded.

Tori gave a big sigh, indicating that line of conversation was over. She turned over.

At six, a chiropractor came over to give the four of us deep tissue massages. I took the time he was working on the others to take a Zen-laden nap. I woke up feeling more relaxed than ever before.

After the massages, Taylor and Whit drove to their respective houses—apparently, Whit’s was across the street from Beyonce Knowles’—to get dressed for Katsuya.

“Where are you going?” Tori asked when I followed her up the stairs and turned towards Eric’s door instead of hers.

“I’m gonna get changed,” I said.

“What’s the rush? Come in here, let’s have another drink,” she said. “Actually, just bring your clothes and we can get dressed together.”

“How about I just change really fast and come meet you for a drink,” I smiled. I didn’t know what angle she was playing, but being alone with her again made me uneasy.

“Suit yourself; I’m gonna have a cocktail. Those two losers aren’t gonna be back for another hour or so,” she said. She opened her door, and as she walked in, she shouted “You should totally wear your new Marc Jacob shirt tonight. It’ll look great on you.”

As I walked into Eric’s room, I tried to get it. I tried dissecting everything that had happened that day, putting the pieces together to determine why she was so nice to me. It was like I was one of them all of a sudden. Was that it? Was that her big revenge? To make me one of her? It didn’t seem like a particularly inspired form of punishment. I had enjoyed myself. If this was the in crowd, I could get used it.

I took a quick shower to get the oil off my body and changed into the jeans and shirt that Tori had bought me from Barney’s. I used Eric’s hair glue and an hour later, I was perfectly coiffed and dressed and ready to go.

I wouldn’t have recognized myself from a week earlier. The designer clothes, the new haircut, coupled with a new ‘can’t touch this’ attitude, wore on me well. I can hang with these people, I thought. I can be one of them.

I crossed the hall and knocked on Tori’s door. It opened under the weight of my knock and I walked in. She stood there in a bra and skirt, curling her hair and spraying every strand. It was a wonder there wasn’t a hole in the ozone right above their house.

“Come in,” she said casually, like I’d seen her in her bra a million times. “You can pour yourself a drink over there.”

She pointed to a fully stocked bar with three different kinds of top shelf everything. I settled on Belvedere and soda water, the whole time wondering how these seventeen year olds had access to all of this liquor. Maybe it was the ‘drink in the house’ policy that the ‘cool parents’ employed.

“So, I was thinking while I was in the shower,” she said. Shocker. “I’m getting really tired of Taylor. He’s so annoying and self absorbed and not even remotely self-aware. It’s disgusting, don’t you think?”

I shrugged my shoulders. To be fair, I generally felt that way about all three of them, less so now that I knew Tori a little bit better. But still, that generalization could have described everyone in Summit Hill, except maybe my lab partner Nate, who I’m sure knew he was on the bottom rung.

“I just don’t really want to be around that tonight, you know. Tonight is about fun with friends, old and new,” she said, turning to look at me. I thought the strand of hair in the iron would have crisped up and fallen off by then.

“I mean, he’s your friend, right?” I asked sheepishly, not sure how I was supposed to respond. It wasn’t my place to get in the way. I was the newest one. If she was a first in first out kind of manager, I should have been the one walking.

“No, of course he is,” she said. “I just. I mean, you’re coming and I’d rather it just be you, me, and Whit. I think that’ll be more fun. Just for tonight. He’ll understand when you tell him.”

She released her hair and walked swiftly into her bathroom. When I tell him? Why did I have to tell him that he couldn’t come? This was her show?

“Um, sorry. What was that last part?”

She stuck her head out of the bathroom. I could tell she was slipping into her top for the night.

“You can tell him that you’re taking his place,” she said as casually as one would order a fish sandwich from McDonald’s. “You do want to go, right?”

Of course I wanted to go. I’d been looking forward to going out all day. It was my first Saturday night downtown since I moved to NoHo. I didn’t want to spend another Saturday night walking my dog to a Jude Law fantasy. I was in and I was holding on for dear social life.

And then I realized what was going on. Of course I wanted to go and that was the problem. Everything she had done the last two days was setting me up for this moment. This was her test. Would I throw poor innocent Taylor under the bus just to feel included in a crowd? Would I give up my integrity for a night out on the town?

“You can use my phone,” she said. “Just call him and say you could only get a table for three or something. You’ll think of something, I’m sure. I’m so excited, tonight’s gonna be so fun. You’re one of us now.”

The words rang in my ear like a church bell on a Sunday morning. As good as being one of something felt, I wasn’t sure us was the best choice for me.

At the end of the day, though, throwing Taylor under the bus seemed like a small price to pay to fit in.

“Hurry up,” she said with urgency. “I need you to come zip up my Prada dress for me.”

I picked up her phone, found his number and dialed it.

“Hey Taylor,” I said when he answered.

I gave him my excuse and hung up as quickly as possible, unaware of the shitstorm I was about to create, all because I wanted to be one of these big haired bitches.