Chapter 5 - Maison de Kathy

Neither of them slept much Friday night either.

Michael spent most of the night staring at the ceiling imagining every possible way Saturday could become the most humiliating experience of his life.

Meanwhile beside him, Michelle kept scrolling through her phone.

Hair references.

Clothing.

Makeup.

Shoes.

Planning.

At 2:07 a.m., Michael finally rolled over.

“You’re excited.”

Michelle didn’t even deny it.

“I’m focused.”

“You’re definitely excited.”

She lowered the phone slightly.

“You know what’s strange?”

“What?”

“For the first time in two years, you actually seem engaged in something again.”

Michael stared at her blankly.

“I’m having a nervous breakdown.”

Michelle smirked faintly.

“Yes. But with purpose.”

That sentence somehow stayed with him the rest of the night.

—

Saturday morning arrived cold, gray, and terrifying.

By 8:10 a.m., Michael sat rigidly in the passenger seat of Michelle’s SUV while they drove toward Kathy’s salon.

Every red light made him more anxious.

Every mile made Jennifer feel more inevitable.

Michelle drove one-handed while sipping coffee calmly.

“How are you this relaxed?”

“I’m not relaxed.”

“You seem relaxed.”

“I’m trying not to scare you more.”

“That’s not helping.”

Michelle glanced over briefly.

“You know we can still stop.”

Michael looked at her immediately.

“We can?”

“If at the end of today Jennifer doesn’t look believable, we call the whole thing off.”

Michael blinked.

“Seriously?”

Michelle nodded once.

“No interview. No Monday. We forget the entire thing happened.”

Michael exhaled slowly for what felt like the first time all morning.

“And if she does look believable?”

Michelle hesitated.

Then quietly:

“Then we see what happens.”

That answer sat heavily inside the car.

—

The sign outside the salon read:

Maison de Kathy

Elegant gold lettering against frosted glass.

Michael immediately wanted to vomit.

“I can’t go in there.”

“Yes you can.”

“No, Michelle, seriously.”

She parked the car calmly and turned toward him.

“Michael.”

He looked at her.

“You don’t have to become Jennifer forever today.”

The way she said forever unsettled him.

Then she softened slightly.

“You just have to see if she exists.”

God.

Even Michelle was talking about Jennifer like a real person now.

Michael looked out the windshield toward the salon entrance.

Women walked casually in and out carrying coffee and shopping bags while soft music drifted faintly through the doors.

A completely normal Saturday morning.

Except his life had become insane.

Michelle squeezed his hand gently.

“One day,” she whispered.

Then:

“If Jennifer doesn’t work, we walk away.”

Michael nodded slowly.

And followed her inside.

—

The salon buzzed with warmth, perfume, blow dryers, and Saturday morning energy.

The second Kathy saw them enter, she clapped excitedly.

“There she is!”

Michael nearly turned around and walked out immediately.

“Mom,” Michelle warned.

Kathy ignored her completely and walked straight toward Michael, studying him critically.

“Hm.”

Michael folded his arms defensively.

“What?”

“You actually have very good bone structure.”

“That sentence should concern all of us.”

Kathy laughed brightly.

“Oh honey, by tonight you’re going to be adorable.”

Michael looked physically ill.

Michelle almost laughed.

—

The makeover began immediately.

And unfortunately—

with waxing.

“All of it?” Michael asked weakly.

“All of it,” Kathy confirmed cheerfully.

“What exactly counts as ‘all’?”

Kathy smiled sympathetically.

“Everything.”

The next two hours became a nightmare.

Chest.

Back.

Legs.

Arms.

Underarms.

Every strip of wax felt like psychological punishment.

At one point Michael actually gripped the edge of the table and whispered:

“I hate everyone here.”

Michelle laughed from the corner of the room while scrolling through emails.

“You’re doing great.”

“No I’m not.”

Kathy remained entirely unfazed.

“Beauty requires commitment.”

“This feels medieval.”

By the end, Michael’s skin felt impossibly smooth everywhere.

Foreign somehow.

Like his own body had stopped belonging to him.

Then came the brows.

Kathy tilted his chin toward the salon lights critically.

“These are way too heavy.”

Michael looked terrified.

“What does that mean?”

“It means Jennifer has masculine brows.”

“I’m beginning to miss Michael already.”

Wax.

Shaping.

Tinting.

Every tiny adjustment softened his face further.

When Kathy finally handed him the mirror afterward, Michael froze.

The brows alone changed him dramatically.

His expressions looked softer now.

More open.

More feminine.

Michelle looked genuinely surprised.

“Wow.”

Michael stared at his reflection nervously.

“That’s not helping.”

“Oh no,” Michelle admitted quietly. “It really is.”

—

Then came the hair.

The moment everything changed.

Michael sat beneath the salon lights wrapped in a black cape while Kathy and two stylists discussed color formulas around him like surgeons preparing for a procedure.

“We could keep it brunette,” one stylist offered.

Kathy shook her head immediately.

“No. Blonde softens everything.”

Michelle looked thoughtful.

“Honey blonde?”

Kathy nodded slowly.

“Shoulder length. Soft waves.”

Michael stared at all of them in horror.

“You’re discussing me like a rescue dog.”

Nobody acknowledged that.

Foils covered his head.

Bleach replaced dark brown.

Then toner.

Then extension matching.

Hours passed while Michael slowly disappeared from the mirror.

The final step came when Kathy herself carefully sewed in the extensions.

Long honey-blonde waves gradually framed his face and brushed softly against his shoulders.

When Kathy finally spun the chair toward the mirror again—

the room went quiet.

Michael genuinely stopped breathing for a second.

The blonde transformed him completely.

Not glamorous.

Not exaggerated.

Pretty.

Michelle stared openly.

“Oh my God.”

Kathy looked deeply satisfied.

“I knew it.”

Michael swallowed hard.

Because staring back from the mirror no longer looked like a man in a wig.

She looked…

real.

And somehow that frightened him more than if Jennifer looked ridiculous.

—

The final stages happened almost gently after that.

Acrylic nail extensions:

* medium length,

* pale pink,

* elegant.

Then lash extensions.

Then subtle makeup:

* soft contouring,

* neutral lips,

* light blush,

* mascara.

Nothing dramatic.

Just enough.

By early evening, the salon had mostly emptied out.

Only Kathy, Michelle, and a few stylists remained nearby as Jennifer’s makeup was finished.

Michael sat completely silent beneath the lights.

Then finally Kathy turned the chair slowly toward the mirror one last time.

Silence.

Nobody spoke immediately.

Because the result shocked all of them.

Jennifer didn’t just pass.

Jennifer was actually…

cute.

Soft blonde waves framed delicate features.

The lashes widened his eyes beautifully.

The shaped brows softened every expression.

The acrylic nails resting against the chair looked natural somehow.

And the subtle makeup erased years from Michael’s face entirely.

Michelle stared openly at the reflection.

Not laughing.

Not teasing.

Almost stunned.

“Oh my God,” she whispered again.

Kathy folded her arms proudly.

“I told you.”

Michael couldn’t stop staring.

Because for the first time all day—

he understood why Jennifer got the interview immediately.

And for the first time since this started—

Michael Brennan became genuinely afraid of how natural Jennifer looked.