Caught on Camera

Chapter 4, Scene 1, Part 6

Chapter 4

The Spa Who Loved Me

Rachel reclined in the spa salon chair, squirming to position her neck comfortably in the sink notch. Marie-Eve Tremblay, petite, ebony hair pulled back into a chignon and clad in a form-fitting grey tunic that barely covered her rear end, turned on the spray and tested the water temperature.

"You will not know your face when I finish," Marie-Eve promised in her sexy French-Canadian accent. She normally worked as a hair stylist and makeup artist in the high end spa at the Sterling Inn Montreal, but had swung a four month transfer to the Sterling Inn Muskoka property to perfect her English.

Ms. Kane's personal assistant had come and gone, leaving behind instructions for hair color and a two day schedule for Rachel, complete with designated times to walk the dog.

Marie-Eve rinsed the color solution out of Rachel's hair. "So beautiful long blonde hair, ma belle. When it is dry, you will see. Your skin is too pale, though. No sun."

"I usually work other shifts on my days off." Blissfully happy, Rachel sniffed the floral scent wafting through the air conditioning ducts. She'd scraped by on minimum wage and tips since moving out of her divorced mother's modest apartment at nineteen, worked long hours to pay her way through community college, never aspired to be pampered with spa services that cost the earth.

Marie-Eve applied conditioner with soothing fingers. "You are saving money for something?"

"I've been accepted at Toronto Film School. It's very expensive."

"Then I don't receive a tip from you today." Marie-Eve laughed. "It's okay. You will remember me when you're famous, and I can do maquillage for the cinema stars."

"Speaking of makeup, what's your professional opinion of the Candy Kane line of cosmetics?"

"Naturally the spa ordered a stock for the wedding party and guests." Marie-Eve indicated the red and white striped packaged products on the counter in front of the swivel chair at her station. "I have tried it before in Montreal. We test all the new products to compare to the Sterling spa line." She shrugged. "It's organic. It's as good as others in that price range. We stay with our spa products."

"I never heard of Candy Kane Cosmetics until this week," Rachel admitted as Marie-Eve wrapped a towel embroidered with the hotel logo around her wet head and guided her to a swivel chair in front of a mirror.

"Makeup is very competition."

"Competitive," Rachel automatically corrected.

"Oui. Candy Kane advertises on the Shopping Channel. The packaging is for adolescents. New products, they come and go." Marie-Eve wrapped a fresh dry towel around Rachel's neck, followed by a plastic cape. "Could be a success. Maybe not." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Ms. Kane was a model," Rachel offered.

In the mirror Marie-Eve's reflection tilted her head to inspect Rachel's long hair, comb at the ready. "I am twenty-one, about your age, n'est pas? We are too young to see her photos in the magazines de mode. At thirty-three she is still very beautiful, but maybe too old to model."

"Fashion magazines," Rachel corrected. She grimaced at her reflection. "Washed up at thirty-three. Yikes. The fashion industry sure is heartless."

She began to comb out Rachel's hair. "Hollywood too. A fan of Goldie Hawn was here last week who asked if it was true on the internet what Goldie said: There are only three ages for women in Hollywood -- Babe, District Attorney, and Driving Miss Daisy."

Rachel smiled ruefully. "If you replace 'district attorney' with 'business woman', Ms. Kane has moved into the next age." She changed the subject. "Can you tell me anything about the other members of the wedding party?"

Marie-Eve efficiently snipped off half an inch of wet hair to even the length. "I know nothing of the men. The personal assistant, Wendy Davila, arranged appointments tomorrow for bridesmaids hair and makeup. Asta Armstrong is the groom's sister, je crois. Tiffany York is another bridesmaid."

Rachel nodded in recognition. "Tiffany is a model turned actress. I read on Variety.com that she's agreed to be the next Bond girl. She must be one of Candy's model friends."

Marie-Eve switched on a blow dryer and began to dry the long strands. "Tiffany is very beautiful, comme tu dis, a babe. I watch on Entertainment Tonight that she is divorcing the director who put her in his movie, it was two years ago. She does not require that old guy anymore for her career. He is forty, I think." She stepped back, gave Rachel a hand mirror, and turned the back of the chair to the mirror. "Tiens. Blonde hair accents the sparks of gold in your brown eyes. Ms. Kane has an expert eye."

In the mirror an unfamiliar woman peered myopically back at her. Rachel fumbled under the cape for the glasses in her robe pocket and put them on. Holy metamorphosis. Her own mother would pass her on the street.

Marie-Eve made a moue of distaste. "You must wear those ugly glasses?"

Rachel sighed. "I'm blind as a bat. I need glasses to see farther than ten feet. To save money I never ordered contacts when I ran out."

"This weekend is special. You must put those glasses away," Marie-Eve ordered firmly as she removed the plastic cape and shook it out. "Now you will have a light lunch in the atrium with the other spa clients before Claire shapes your brows, dyes your lashes and waxes your private parts. The fun stuff."