As Avery’s World Turns - “The pulled out hair extensions - Part II”

Hi, readers. So I am FINALLY feeling better… although I’m never eating egg salad again. 

So much has happened since you and I last spoke, I don’t even know where to start. 

We left off where I went to see Chloe, who had just ripped out her $80,000 hair extensions. Yes, ripped out. And, yes, $80,000!!! I guess she started by cutting them, but then, unpleased, started removing the plugs from her head (that sounds so alien, in so many different ways). More importantly, WHO THE FUCK does this?!?! Especially just because they didn’t get some lame role in the audition-of-the-day?! 

I really wanted to give Chloe a shot of self-esteem… what if the next role she auditions for wants someone with longer hair…? But I guess now’s not the time to say this; now, it’s too late. Plus, I needed to figure out a way to save my 500 invitations… maybe we could just change the party theme? After all, her “Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow” theme is more appropriate now than ever before. 

I followed her into the dark house, down the long, hollow hallways, and into the kitchen, which was begging for company. All was silent, except for her high heels against the hardwood floors. Why was she even wearing high heels at 1 a.m.?  

Chloe poured us each a glass of Scotch on the rocks (not even asking if I like Scotch; but, again, this was irrelevant now) and motioned for us to sit down at the table. She still had the pulled-out hair in her hand, which made it seem as though she had scalped somebody… which was herself, in more ways than one. It freaked me out, looking at it. 

She seemed calm for a second as she took a long sip of her drink, then put her hands over her face, clumps of hair extension hair covering it, and burst out crying. Why are the rich, spoiled people of the world always so unhappy?  

She then threw the hair across the room. I watched (and ducked) as it landed in a nearby garbage can (and wondered if I could later retrieve it, resell it, and finally pay off my $80,000-worth of student loans). Where the hell am I? And am I really sitting here, sipping Scotch, watching my boss’s wife cry over a bad audition and a bad hair day in the middle of the night?  

“I’ll never be a known actress, Avery,” she said between bouts of sobbing. “Sure you will,” I said back, though I believed her more than I did myself. “And it’s not just the hair,” she said. “I think Dean is having an affair.” “No, he’s not,” I said. “How do you know?!” she snapped back. “Um…” I started. But I did not know how to continue that sentence, since I had no clue whether or not Dean – my boss – was cheating on Chloe.  

I am officially getting way too involved in my boss’s personal affairs, so to speak… and I need to find a way out. But before I could start brainstorming, Chloe interrupted, “All those invitations!” she said, suddenly noticing them. She picked one up. “Beautiful, Avery,” she exclaimed. Finally, I wanted to say, but “Aw, thanks,” came out, instead. “What’ll we do with all of these? I’m so sorry you had to do this…” she added. Wow, she’s actually being remorseful; this is so unlike her. Maybe there is a decent human being underneath her Hollywood TV wife, fell face of make-up at 1 a.m. façade, after all. “I’ll think of something we can use these for,” she said. “Great,” I responded. And I meant it.  

“Thanks for coming over, Avery,” she said, pouring us more Scotch. “No problem,” I said. After all, readers, what else did I have to do at this hour?! “And I would hate for you to drink and drive tonight,” she said. “So I’ll make up the guest room for you.” Uh-oh, readers. I’m stuck. “And in the morning,” she continued, “we’ll think of how you can spy on Dean for me.” “Can’t wait,” I muttered to myself, under my breath.