Biff hung up the phone with some authority. Someone selling something. Always was, which would've been fine, had it not been the fact that it was the salon trying to book him for an appointment. Hair, nails and massage was what she said, but what was most unnerving wasn't the fact that she kept calling him "Miss," or that she told Biff that his mother had opened up a line of credit for him, it was that she said the word "another." Another! Like he had ever been to the salon before. That was for girls and lame wannabes. Definitely not a place where a star quarterback who cares anything about his reputation should be seen. Although, the prospect of a free massage paid for by his Mom did sound great
"What could it hurt?," Biff said to himself as he crossed the threshold of Bocanegra Salon-- he was really tense! The moment he opened the second set of glass doors, a deep bass beat assaulted his senses from every angle. He thought about turning back -- heading back home and lying in bed for a couple more hours, but when he saw just how many girls were there, each in their own different state of undress, he decided that it might not be that bad. Even if, at the current moment, he looked a lot like some of them - purple sweatpants with "love" written down the side, tight black tank top that was a bit more stretchy than he remembered, flip-flops, and a white tote bag to keep his water and wallet. He didn't like his outfit, but it was the best option he had available. And at least it was comfy.
As the stylist reclined him back in her chair, Biff felt a wave of relaxation wash over him. The huge stereo headphones they had given him were perfect - he was ready for that massage! He couldn't hear too much about what Amanda, the stylist, was saying by virtue of the music, so he just nodded, smiled, and closed his eyes.
_____
His head was hot! Really, really hot! Like someone had put him in an oven and turned it up to the max! What was going on? Biff's eyes opened with a start. Had he fallen asleep in the chair? At least he knew that the white space helmet that was covering his head was the reason for the heat. But why was it there? Surely that wasn't part of his massage. Biff had so many questions. The heat subsided as Amanda turned the helmet off. At least her smile was reassuring.
Jon peeked in the side-window. This. was. so. great. He hadn't used any more wishes on Biff yet, but his prank was coming along nicely. That jerk had messed with him and Karyn so many times, he deserved it all. Biff was going to realize what had happened to him bit-by-bit, with the big finale at next week's home game. He might even come to enjoy it. As such, there was no way he was going to miss this moment -- he couldn't hear, but as the hairdryer came off Biff's head, he couldn't help but laugh as tufts of expertly layered bleach blonde hair fell to the base of his neck.
No words could describe how Biff was feeling. He was shocked. He was appalled. He was blonde. Really blonde. It was the type of hair he loved on girls. So blonde it was almost white -- like they were from California, or cast members from MTV's Jersey Shore. Except now, it was on him. He had to remember to close his mouth that had dropped open when he first saw himself. How could he ever show his face in public? Sure, he could pretend that the mascara was part of a rock and roll phase he was getting into, but this? This was too much.
As he turned to leave, Biff thought he caught a glimpse of that nerd Jon Madison watching him through the window, but he shrugged it off.
So much for relaxing. Maybe it was time for him to go and work out.
