He Use To Be A Son Of Anarchy

Chapter Two: Bertha's Beauty Shop

It was a Saturday and I was tired of sitting in my apartment every weekend. So instead I decided to go explore the town. Not that there was much exploring to do in a town like Georgeville, but I hadn't really taken a look around town. I crossed Main Street and headed down Dawning Street.

The town had been founded by a man called George Dawning. Of course he must have had a huge ego if he decided to name a town after himself. I read all of this in one of the library books one day before Miss Wayforth scolded me for lounging around. That woman honestly just needs to remove the stick she has up her ass.

I walked past a very old fashioned barber shop. I could see Al, the owner of Al's Auto Shop next to my apartment, getting his beard trimmed by an old and frail man. Next was a shop that doubled as a butchery and deli. The smell of bologna was overwhelming. As I took a peek inside, I saw the woman from the grocery store behind the counter. She was wrapping something in brown paper. Her eyes were red and the rest of her face colourless.

I walked by quickly and moved to the next store. A bright lime green sign with the words Bertha's Beauty Shop hung meekly above the door. I entered the shop and the bell above the door announced my arrival.

A woman with bright (and may I add badly coloured) cherry red hair, a blue 60s style polka dot dress and alarmingly high platform boots looked up at me. She was busy putting curlers in an elderly lady's hair.

"Welcome," she said cheerfully and waved one of the curlers in her hand, "My name is Bertha Green and you, my dear, must be new in town." I took the opportunity to look around the shop. Mirrors with chairs stood alongside the wall where Bertha was working. On the opposite side stood a variety of shelves with beauty products. "Yes, I'm Valerie Brooks, but you can call me Val," I said politely and strode over to the beauty products. Bertha went back to putting the bright coloured curlers in the elderly lady's hair.

"Valerie. What a lovely name. You must be the girl that works in the library. It's a small town. News of newly arrivals travel fast. This is Mrs Jones," she said not looking up from Mrs Jones' hair, "She and her husband own the clothing shop across the road."

"It's nice to meet you both," I said with a strained voice while putting the expired face cream back on the shelf.

There wasn't much going on in the shop. Except for the expired face cream and a variety of tacky make up items, there was an entire shelf dedicated to hairspray. That's right, hairspray in all different kinds of cans and brightly coloured. Judging by Bertha's enormous hair I reckoned she must use up half of her supplies on herself in one month.

I was curiously examining the different types of cans. The bell on the door chimed again as a young woman walked in carrying a brown paper bag filled to the top with groceries.

"Lucille, dear," Bertha said looking up from Mrs Jones' hair, "Please put those in the back." Lucille eyed me curiously, but went to the back and returned moments later. She walked right towards me.

 "I'm Lucille, but everyone calls me Lulu," she said.

"Not everyone," Bertha chimed in from behind her.

Lulu rolled her eyes. "My mother."

"Val," I said trying to avoid Bertha's nasty gaze.

"Nice to meet you," Lulu said and spun around. She disappeared to the back again.

The silence in the shop was awkward. I mumbled a goodbye to the two remaining ladies in the store and headed out the door.

In my head I silently thanked God that Bertha was not my mother. Not only was she a walking "look at me"-sign with her gigantic hair and odd sense of style, but she was also mean. You could tell from the way she talked to poor Lulu.

I much rather preferred my drug addict and always absent mother.