Julie’s stepfather enrolled her in the same prep school as Sydney, whose snotty classmates had been less than kind.
Julie looked up suddenly, her smile returning. “You’re good people, Syd, even if you are filthy rich.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Julie laughed. “Remember Samantha Bellamy?”
“Please.” Sydney sighed. “Don’t even bring her up.”
“Friggin’ snob. Treated me as though I had some kind of contagious disease. Wouldn’t invite you to her birthday party if you took me, and you told her to go to hell.” She grunted. “Your daddy had more money than all the rest of those goddamn snobs put together.”
“Can we change the subject?”
Julie thoughtfully studied the color she’d mixed. “I’d like to get her in my chair for a couple of hours. Maybe I could send her an offer for a free color.”
Sydney laughed. “Don’t even think about it.”
At least Julie had developed a sense of humor over the whole mess. True, it had been years ago, but the girls had been exceptionally cruel. Sydney simply had been embarrassed. She’d thought she knew those girls, considered several of them among her friends…until she saw how ugly they could be.
She and Julie had become fast friends from that moment on and did everything together. At the close of their senior year everything changed.
Julie’s fairy-tale life ended with her mom and stepfather’s divorce, and she landed back “across the tracks.” Not only that, but Julie had changed. She seemed bitter and hateful, claiming it was her fault but never explaining why.
Sydney had her own theories about the stepfather’s inordinate affection for Julie, but Julie refused to talk about it. In fact, she eventually failed to return Sydney’s phone calls and headed to California.
Julie set the bowl of color aside and put her hands on her hips. “When I get through with you, you are going to look so hot, girlfriend.”
Sydney frowned. “What if I don’t like it? Will you be able to dye it back to my natural color?”
“Back to this mousy brown? Why the hell would you want to do that?”
“I wish you wouldn’t be so coy about your feelings.”
Julie laughed. “You have nondescript brown hair. That’s not exactly front-page news.”
“I’m serious, Jules. What if I hate it?”
“You won’t.” Julie pinched several strands of Sydney’s hair and inspected them.
Oh, God, she had a board meeting to attend. She didn’t want to go looking like some… She jerked when Julie picked up a small paintbrush and put it near Sydney’s hair. “I didn’t say okay yet.”
“Don’t be a chickenshit. This is for your own good.”
“Toni did my hair for years and never suggested highlights.”
“Toni was afraid to say boo to you.”
Sydney frowned. “Why?”
Julie chuckled. “You’re cute, smart, rich, but talk about naive.” With a hand on her shoulder, Julie forced her to sit back. “Who around here is gonna tell a Wainwright what to do?”
“You.”
“Exactly. Now shut up while I do what I do best.”
Sydney bristled as she considered what Julie said. “People aren’t afraid to talk to me.”
Julie rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “If you say so.”
“They aren’t.” Sydney settled back, stewing. She tried her darnedest to be like everyone else. Willard criticized her for it, reminding her she was a Wainwright. But Julie wouldn’t lie. That was the thing Sydney liked best. Julie was a straight-talker.
It was like a miracle when she’d shown up several months ago at the salon Sydney had used for years. They’d both been surprised, but after a few awkward moments, their friendship resumed.
Meeting Julie at fifteen had been a turning point in Sydney’s life. The personal exposure to someone outside her social class had taught Syd more than her four years at Yale. It had taught her that money didn’t just mean power and privilege, but an enormous responsibility toward others.
“Okay, just a few highlights. In the back.”
Julie grinned and separated a strip of Sydney’s bangs.
Sydney sighed.
“Who’s the professional here? Just sit back and tell me about that hunky brother of yours.”
Sydney couldn’t help but smile. After blossoming at sixteen, Julie had always gotten any guy she wanted, and she did it with such relish. “Tell you what. Come over for dinner Saturday night and see for yourself.”
Julie lifted a brow but kept working, inserting the piece of foil under the strands she separated. “So he’s living at the house. I take it he finally has old Willy’s stamp of approval.”
“You can’t blame Willard for checking him out. It was a little odd that Rick showed up after my dad’s death, claiming to be his illegitimate son.”
Julie wrinkled her nose. “It was kind of creepy.”
“Not creepy, just strange. Kind of convenient, with Dad not here to deny the claim, you know?” Sydney shrugged, her gaze glued to Julie’s busy hands. “But somehow I knew Rick would check out. I’m glad, too.”
“You always did have great instincts about people. What about this Jeff guy you’ve been seeing? When do I meet him?”
Sydney groaned. “You’re starting to sound like Willard. I’ll make sure they’re both there on Saturday.”
“Will Willy be there, too?”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Sit still before you make me spill this stuff.” Julie gave her hair a small yank. “He really doesn’t like me. Never has, and after I started working here, he had me checked out, too.”
Sydney gasped. “I don’t believe that.”
“Sit still, dammit.”
“Ouch! Quit yanking so hard.”
“Then stop moving.”
Sydney twisted around in the chair to look Julie in the eyes. “Why do you think he had you checked out?”
A sly smile curved her ruby-tinted lips. “Because I screwed the detective he hired.”
