An Epic Misunderstanding

Emily sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. She’d always had it so together before, always had time to wear makeup, always had time to sneak away for mani-pedis or to get a haircut.

But since the company she founded received its first infusion of venture capital, her funders had made it clear that they expected her to dedicate herself fully to the company. And because Emily refused to ask the same of her staff, that had meant that for the last year, she’d been putting in 80 to 100 hours a week in order to preserve her staff’s 40-hour schedules. And that had meant that most days she didn’t have time to put on makeup, let alone schedule an appointment to get her nails or her hair done—not to mention actually taking the time out of her day for those appointments. Emily wouldn’t have had time to work out, either, but fortunately her investors in her green energy company liked that she practiced what she preached and usually biked to work instead of driving, so at least she was getting about an hour on her bike most days.

This morning, Emily had time for concealer and mascara, but only because she was going to take her first call of the day from home, and then she’d dictate a couple of blog posts from her bike for her assistant to type up later. She brushed through the sun-lightened, armpit-length hair she hadn’t had cut since the day before her funding announcement, and then put it into its usual low ponytail so it could accommodate her bike helmet later. A few shorter locks of hair that used to be bangs swung forward, still not long enough to be captured by her hair elastic. And that was that. It was time to get on the phone with a potential customer in Singapore.

---

It rained for Emily’s entire ride in—not unusual for the Pacific Northwest this time of year, but annoying all the same when you’ve been told the “optics” of your driving to work when it was a bike-able distance from your home were bad. She peeled off her water-resistant outer layer of clothing and her bike helmet as she walked into her office suite. She felt swampy all over, and her former bangs were plastered to her cheeks.

Maddie, Emily’s assistant, was at the door as usual, ready to swap what was already by this point Emily’s fourth cup of coffee of the day for the wet gear and fill Emily in on her schedule for the day. “Okay, so…” she began, following Emily across the waiting area and toward her private office, trying not to let the wet outerwear she carried drip too much on the floor. “You have about 10 minutes before you have to be on the phone with London. After that is the weekly company all-hands meeting, then you have a meeting with the R&D team at noon. The board needed to push their meeting back to 5pm, so you’ll actually have about an hour for lunch at 1, and then at 2:15, you and I are supposed to meet to talk about those blog posts you’re working on. Did you send those recordings to me yet?”

”Airdropping them to you now,” Emily responded, tapping her screen a few times to wirelessly transmit her recordings to Maddie.

”Great, thanks. I’ll get those typed up and at least start editing before we meet. Then from 3 to 5, you’ve got a meeting with the branding agency to talk about the new logo; 5pm is the board like I already said, which meant I moved the PR team to 6, and then I made dinner reservations at The Brook and the Beach for you and Jake at 7:30.”

”You made me and my husband dinner reservations?”

“Emily…it’s your anniversary.”

”Shit! You’re right. I can’t believe I forgot.”

”You kind of have a lot going on.”

”I haven’t gotten him a gift.”

”It’s already gift wrapped and sitting on your desk. I’ll let you sign the card and then I’ll have a courier deliver it to his office so it doesn’t get wet on your ride to the restaurant.”

”You’re an absolute treasure, Maddie.”

”And don’t you forget it when you take this company public and start handing out stock options.”

Emily chucked as they walked into her office. Maddie disappeared briefly into Emily’s private en-suite bathroom—one of the only perks of this job, at least since the funding—to hang up Emily’s wet gear. Emily followed her and stood in the doorway, where she caught sight of her bedraggled reflection. “Hey, did you say I have a whole hour to myself this afternoon?”

”Yes, and you’d better use it to have a real lunch, away from your desk.”

”And then after that, I’m meeting with you?”

”Yep!”

”Would you mind terribly…” Emily began, stepping aside so Maddie could exit the bathroom, ”…if we move our talk to later this week? That would give me about two hours, right?”

”I’ll find the time on your calendar. What are you thinking you want to do with those two hours?”

”I thought I’d buy something to wear to dinner tonight and pick up some makeup. I don’t feel like I can show up to dinner looking like…well…” she waved her arms to gesture at herself.

”May I make a suggestion?” Maddie asked.

”Of course.”

”Let me worry about coordinating wardrobe and makeup for you. You use that time to get a haircut. It’s been what, a year?”

”Just about that, yeah.”

”I think it’s time for the bob to come back, don’t you?”

Emily ran a hand down her ponytail and tried to tuck her grown-out bangs behind her ears. ”I can’t imagine there are any salons that can get me in at the last minute. The place I used to go fills up months in advance, and I think that’s basically the norm here.”

”Let me worry about that. I’m confident I’ll find you something.”

---

Maddie was back at Emily’s side as she made for the elevators to visit R&D, who had to skip the all-hands so they could finish prepping for their meeting with their boss. “I’ve decided you’re treating the entire team to lunch today, so food for you and everyone else is coming from The Green Grove at 1. Spend a little time mingling—“

”We just had an all-hands!”

”That was you talking. I’m saying to spend time mingling. You know, there are some people who miss the fun, pre-funding Emily and it might be nice for them to see her.”

”Okay fine,” Emily conceded as they stepped onto the elevator. “Then what?”

”I’ve got your personal shopper at Nordstrom picking out some options for tonight and I’ve already placed a Sephora pick-up order using a few things I’ve noticed from your order history and a few other things I just thought you’d like. While I go pick that stuff up, you’re getting your hair done.”

”Where?”

”Here, actually. That website I’ve used to book massage therapists to come to the office? Turns out they also have mobile stylists. Katya will be here at 1:30.”

”I don’t want to get my hair cut at the office,” Emily protested as she and Maddie stepped off the elevator.

”Well, you are. Turns out you were right, and all of the salons in the area are booked.”

Emily sighed. “Okay, fine. I guess I’ll close the blinds in my office for once.”

”Attaboss!” Maddie stopped at the door of the research lab. “See you in an hour.”

---

Emily had to admit, it was nice to actually mingle with her team for once. When she had first started the company, she and her first few hires had gone out for happy hour every Friday. As she made more hires, that turned into Friday in-office happy hours, which morphed into Friday pizza lunches when a few of Emily’s employees confided in her that they were sober and found the happy hour culture difficult. But like so many things, the pizza lunches stopped when the VC money hit. It wasn’t about the money—the funders were more than happy to see Emily use some of the budget to keep the office kitchen stocked with snacks and the office refrigerator full of fancy seltzers, and to replace the old Keurig with a fancy coffee machine with a built-in grinder for the expensive, locally sourced coffee she kept on order—it was about time. One of the only ways Emily was able to preserve her team’s 40-hour workweek was to promise the investors they were truly working forty hours. That meant a weekly, hour-long lunch gathering for the entire company wouldn’t fly. She had made it clear to some of her managers that she’d be happy to look the other way if they occasionally encouraged their teams to take a long lunch together, but it was really rare these days for the entire company to gather for anything other than their weekly, forward-facing all-hands meetings; they certainly hadn’t had a company-wide social gathering in some time.

Time flew, and before she knew it, Emily felt Maddie’s familiar presence beside her. “Em, Katya is here. I’ve got her setting up in your office.”

”Thanks, Maddie,” Emily replied. She took a few more minutes to wrap up the conversation she was having and then left her team to enjoy another half hour of food and chatting while she headed to her office, noticing Maddie was already in the process of drawing the blinds that faced into the suite.

A woman in her early 20s was bustling around the office. She had set a chair in the center of the room with a hairdresser’s cape draped over its back and positioned a full-length, freestanding mirror opposite it. The stylist had also run an extension cord from the wall to a folding table she’d placed beside the chair. The table bore the familiar tools of any hair stylist—an assortment of brushes and combs, some hair flips, a blow dryer, a few pairs of shears and what appeared to be some cutting razors, and a set of clippers. Emily was surprised to see those on the table, but figured Katya didn’t know her or her hair so she just set up her usual equipment.

Maddie finished closing the blinds and turned to her boss. “Emily, this is Katya. Katya, this is Emily, your client for for this appointment.”

The stylist crossed to Emily and extended a graceful hand. “Pleased to meet you,” she said with a clear Slavic accent.

Emily shook the stylist’s hand and took the opportunity to size up the stranger into whose hands she was putting her hair. Katya was taller than Emily, and more slender, probably in her early 20s. She looked as Eastern European as she sounded: fair skin, light eyes, blonde hair that she wore in a short, tousled pixie that was a little edgy for Emily’s personal style but definitely suited the stylist and showed that she was at least competent styling her own hair. “Thank you for coming at the last minute, Katya.”

”Please have a seat,” Katya said, gesturing to the makeshift salon she’d set up. “Maddie tells me you are busy lady.”

”Yes, but you’ve got an hour,” Maddie interjected. “That should be enough time for a haircut, right?”

”Oh most definitely,” Katya nodded enthusiastically. “Just do not want Emily to think I am wasting her time.”

”Thank you, Katya,” Emily said as she crossed to take a seat in Katya’s chair. “I appreciate that.”

”You good, boss?” Maddie asked as Katya wrapped a strip of paper around Emily’s neck. She was surprised to see this barbershop step from a stylist but figured that maybe that’s how Katya was trained.

”I think we’re all set,” Emily replied, holding up her ponytail as Katya enclosed her in a cape.

”Great. I’m going to run and pick up your clothes and your makeup. Call or text me if you think of anything else I can do while I’m out.”

”You’re the best, Mads,” Emily called behind her assistant as she exited the office and closed the door behind her.

Katya slid the hair elastic out of Emily’s hair and then selected a brush and began to gently work it through her lengths. It was soothing, just feeling Katya carefully work out any tangles that had found their way there since that morning.

”You have always had long hair, yes?” Katya asked as she worked.

”No, this is just a result of going way too long without a haircut. The truth is I kind of hate having long hair. I used to always wear my hair pretty short. My last stylist even used a razor. It startled me a bit at first but I wound up loving how it looked, and now low-maintenance it was—at least until it started growing back.”

”So we get rid of long hair, yes? And use razor?”

”Sounds good to me. Do we need to wash my hair first? There’s a bathroom through that doorway.”

”I think dry hair is better for now,” Katya said. “Is okay if I use clippers to start?”

Emily had never had a stylist use clippers at the start of a haircut before—she’d only had them used to very subtly clean up her hairline when it stuck out below her bob. But she knew, having seen it before at a salon, that some stylists did use clippers to get rid of bulk when taking clients from long to a shorter cut and she supposed this counted. “Whatever you think is best,” Emily replied.

”Okay,” Katya said. “And your hair. You wish to donate? This is natural color, yes?”

”Yes. Will it be long enough to donate?”

”Oh yes. Absolutely.”

”Then yes, let’s do that.”

”Perfect. Let me section your hair so we get maximum donation and then we’ll start with haircut.”

Emily found it strange that Katya hadn’t yet asked her how she wanted her hair cut, but she figured the stylist wanted to get rid of the hair she knew she wouldn’t be using first. Or maybe Katya had just spotted the framed magazine article about Emily that was on the wall behind her desk—from a few years ago, when she appeared on a 40 Under 40 list—and assumed she wanted to go back to the textured, neck-length bob and longish bangs she was sporting in the photo. She watched as the stylist secured her hair into five ponytails—at the two sides of her head, her forehead, her crown, and her nape. They seemed to be awfully close to her scalp but maybe Katya was planning on sliding them down the length after making sure her sections were even? She was the expert, after all. Who was Emily to challenge her?

”Okay,” Katya said as she wrapped an elastic around the last section. “Goodbye hair, welcome back razor.” She picked up her clippers from the table beside Emily and clicked them on as she stood in front of the founder, blocking her view of the mirror.

Emily could feel, even if she couldn’t see, Katya lifting up the ponytail at her forehead and holding it taut. But then she felt something else, too. Something completely unexpected, and way too fast to do anything about: Katya placing the clippers right at her hairline, under the rubber band, and gliding them under the ponytail along Emily’s scalp. She gasped. “What are you doing?!”

Katya turned off her clippers, startled by Emily’s reaction. ”I am removing the bulk for donation before I use razor for the rest. Is what we discussed, no?”

Emily shook her head vehemently, feeling the part of her ponytail that was still attached to her head and held in Katya’s hand moving with her. “No! Not at all!”

“I am confused. You said you used to wear your hair very short, and that your last stylist used razor…”

”Yes!  To cut my hair! In a bob! She didn’t shave my head!”

”Oh! Oh no. This is my mistake. I apologize very much.”

”I appreciate that, but what are you going to do to fix this?”

”Well,” said, stepping aside so Emily could see the very bare patch that started where her widow’s peak should have been and continued back a few inches. The ponytail Katya had made there was still attached, but barely. “I may be able to make some sort of bang to cover, but it is unlikely to stay in place. Best option in my opinion is we buzz off rest of hair.”

”What?!”

”Again, I apologize. There is no charge for appointment, obviously.”

”And again I apologize. But I can’t walk out of here bald.”

”Your assistant, Madeline?”

”Maddie, yes.”

”She said if you need anything while she is out, you message her, yes? Maybe she can buy wig.”

”I…I guess I can try that.”

”Good. You message her and we continue, yes?”

”You continue…shaving my head?”

”Yes.”

Emily leaned forward to study her hair—her head—more closely. It did appear that it would be impossible to hide her newly acquired bald spot. She let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, fine. Do what you need to do.”

”Excellent! And good news is, hair this long and healthy will be appreciated by charity.”

“Honestly that’s not what I’m worried about right now.”

”I understand. Just trying to help you find—silver lining, is it?”

”Can you just do your thing?”

”Of course. You want me to put mirror away so you don’t have to watch?”

”Uh. Yeah. Yes please.”

”No problem.”

As Katya began to collapse the mirror, Emily’s hand flew to her pocket, where her phone was. “SOS. Need you to pick up a wig.”

Maddie’s reply came quickly. “Katya is that bad, eh?”

”Just…find a wig. You’ll see why when you get here. I couldn’t possibly begin to explain over text.”

”Any type of wig specifically?”

”Literally anything you can find will be better than this.”

”I’ll see what I can do, boss.”

Emily put her phone back in her pocket and lifted her head in time to see Katya walking back toward her, the mirror tucked somewhere out of sight. “I keep going now, yes?”

”You’re absolutely certain this can’t be fixed?”

”I believe this is best solution.”

”Fine. Just get it over with.”

”Very well,” Katya said, picking up her unguarded clippers and flicking them on. “Maybe you at least enjoy this?”

”I’d say that’s highly unlikely,” Emily responded.

”You might be surprised,” the stylist said, lifting the partly detached ponytail at Emily’s forehead and plunging the clippers back under it. “Clipper is nice sometimes.” The rest of the ponytail gave way and Katya placed it on the table beside her.

Emily was fuming. What stylist in her right mind would think that this was what their client wanted—even if there was a language barrier? She didn’t like having her hair long, but this was literally the most extreme opposite, and it was going to take literally years to grow back. Emily had never shaved her head before, never even wore it in a pixie. The very first bob she got had been a pretty harrowing experience, as the stylist at the cheap on-campus salon she went to cut her then shoulder-length hair to her earlobes when she had asked for it to be cut to her chin—but still, that was nothing compared to this. How long, she wondered, would it be her hair even reached her earlobes? Six months? Longer?

Katya moved on to the ponytail on the right side of Emily’s head and pulled it taut. This one was much bigger than the one at her forehead had been. Emily could feel the stylist place her clippers at her temple and begin peeling her hair away as she worked toward the ponytail. To add insult to injury, she felt a distinct breeze on her scalp from the office’s air conditioner, which still hadn’t been shut off for the season. She remembered that sophomore year of college, her roommate, Bridget, had volunteered to participate in something called St. Baldrick’s Day and tried to get her to participate. This was before the bob, when she was still wearing her hair at around shoulder length. The idea of shaving her head—in front of a crowd, no less—had been terrifying to her, but she said she’d at least donate a few dollars to the cause. A few weeks later, when Bridget returned to their dorm one evening slightly drunk, her long red hair reduced to stubble, Emily had been shocked at just how different the girl had looked. It was as if the entire shape of her face had changed.

Emily felt the second ponytail come away in Katya’a hand as she tried to remember how long it took Bridget to grow her hair out again. She certainly remembered Bridget’s frustration those first few weeks as her hair grew back, fuzzy and unmanageable. The only way she could get it to lie flat was to wet it thoroughly and then put on a beanie while it dried. She remembered when Bridget triumphantly declared her hair was finally long enough for her to get a haircut—Emily thought it was still plenty short, but acknowledged that when Bridget got back from the salon that afternoon, with her hair buzzed shorter on the back and sides and textured on the top, that her red hair did look better: an actual hairstyle rather than just hair. By the end of the semester this short crop was a proper pixie, thanks to regular “maintenance haircuts” (how, Emily wondered, would she ever find time for those?!), and when they returned to campus that fall, Bridget had bangs that tumbled into her eyes, which she often pinned to the side with a cute barrette.

Katya was already at work on the ponytail on Emily’s left. Emily realized she couldn’t really use Bridget’s hair as a means of measuring her own future hair growth, because Bridget had kept that look—short in the back, with long bangs—for the rest of the year. And then, to Emily’s surprise, Bridget showed up in their apartment one day during finals with her red hair chopped into a short crop that more resembled that first haircut she got after shaving her head than the long pixie she had sported all year. Bridget was spending that summer working of the coast of Panama in a marine biology lab, she’d explained. She thought this would be easier with all the time she’d be spending under water. Emily, who was by this point trying to grow her ear-length bob to the chin-length bob she’d actually wanted, and who had cried for hours after receiving said ear-length bob, was baffled by how casually her roommate explained her haircut after how much she’d hated the grow-out process the first time around. She was more baffled still when Bridget didn’t let her hair grow out their senior year; instead she’d taken to visiting a barbershop, not a salon, to maintain the ultra-short style.

Emily was abruptly brought back to the present as she felt clippers on top of her head. She must have missed Katya finishing on her left side while she was lost in thought. But having the clippers run over her crown felt different—more real, more visceral. Harder to ignore. Katya had suggested she might enjoy this. The vibrations felt pleasant enough, Emily thought. But not pleasant enough that she could ignore her knowledge of what they were doing, the anger and sadness at what was being done to her. How was she going to walk out of her office, face her employees, bald? She’d just been lunching with them, what, maybe 20 minutes ago? It was going to be an absolute shock when she emerged without any hair.

And, she realized with dawning horror, she’d also have to face her husband like this. And on their anniversary! She knew Jake had preferred her bob to the grown-out, shapeless style she had been sporting lately, but, she thought, surely he’d have preferred to greet me with that mop than shaved?

”Head down, please,” Katya directed Emily. The fourth ponytail was gone and there was only one left, at her nape. “Now, this is part most people enjoy. I enjoy it, too. Is why I keep my hair like this.”

”You’re not bald,” Emily observed, lowering her chin.

”No, but this is long for me on back and sides. I usually buzz back and sides with number one guard.”

”How—how long is that?” Emily didn’t have any reference points for guard lengths. It wasn’t something she and Bridget had ever discussed.

”About one-eighth inch,” Katya replied matter-of-factly. “Longer than you have now, but not by much.”

Holy shit, Emily thought to herself. If an eighth of an inch was longer than her hair was now, she was all and truly bald. And then, another, very different, “Holy shit!” This one was out loud as Katya made her first pass up Emily’s nape.

”I told you,” Katya said, “this part is nice, no?”

Emily struggled to articulate exactly what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Somehow, as the stylist was relieving her of the last of the hair on her head, she was inexplicably…aroused? It couldn’t be. But then, she had always loved when Jake would nibble at her nape when she’d had her bob cleaned up in the past. Clearly this was a sensitive spot for her—still, she’d never felt this when stylists cleaned up her nape before. She tried to collect herself. “It’s…yeah. It’s nice, I guess.” Emily fell into silence as Katya finished removing the hair on her nape and the back of her head. She was trying so hard not to enjoy it, or at the very least not to show Katya that she was enjoying it. But the truth was, part of her was enjoying it, and furthermore she wasn’t sure she was doing an adequate job of hiding it.

”Holy shit!” This time it wasn’t her who said it. Maddie had just walked into her office, carrying an assortment of shopping bags. “That…is not a bob.”

”No,” Katya agreed. “I apologize. I misunderstood what your boss asked, and…” she trailed off as the final ponytail came loose in her hand. “Here we are. But I am not charging for haircut. Was my mistake.”

”This is why I needed a wig,” Emily said, raising her head, all pleasurable sensations from a moment ago already forgotten. She noticed Katya crossing toward her bathroom.

”Yeah. So…on that note,” Maddie began. “There are a few upscale wig shops downtown, but it turns out they won’t just let you walk in and buy a wig. It’s a whole process. If you want a good wig, it sounds like you’re going to have to actually go in.”

”Cool, in my infinite spare time,” Emily said sarcastically.

”Let me worry about that. In the meanwhile,” Maddie said, shuffling through her shopping bag assortment, “this was all I could do. Catch!” She produced a bag clearly labeled with the Spirit Halloween logo and tossed it to Emily, who freed an arm from under the cape just in time to catch the projectile.

”You’re kidding,” Emily gasped as she looked in the bag, seeing the assortment of wigs Maddie had selected.

”It’s all I could do with the time I had. Lucky for you it’s October, so they’re keeping pretty well stocked.”

Katya re-emerged from the bathroom and crossed back to Emily, where she enveloped her head in a warm, wet towel. “What are you doing now?” Emily asked her.

”This is to soften hairs for the razor,” the stylist replied.

“The razor?!”

”Yes. I thought since we decided to go on with how I understood plan, that meant I should use razor?”

”But then I’ll truly be bald.”

”Yes. But is barely a difference from what you have now. Do you wish to see? I can set up mirror again.”

”How…” Emily began, her throat dry. “How long will it take to grow out?”

”To what you have now? A few days. Maybe a week. You will have lovely half-inch of hair in a month either way. This will just be smoother. No shadow, nicer to touch.”

”Fuck it,” Emily said. She heard Maddie gasp across her office. “Do your thing.”

”Emily…remember, you have a board meeting this evening.”

”It’s on Zoom,” Emily said. “I can’t imagine they’re going to be able to tell the difference. And besides, that’s what the wigs are for.” She pulled the wig labeled “Hollywood glamour” out of the Spirit Halloween bag—the model on the package was dressed as Marilyn Monroe. It wasn’t remotely close to her usual look, but it was closer than the “gothic lady” (Morticia Addams) or “lounge singer” (Jessica Rabbit) wigs, or the one simply labeled “Karen” (exactly what it sounds like). A wavy platinum bob was at least a change she might have plausibly decided to make.

”Katya,” Maddie asked. “Is there any way you can style that wig to look like it’s remotely real?”

”Is cheap wig,” she scoffed, procuring a can of shaving cream from the bag she’d brought with her and setting it on the table, “but I try my best. That part is not on the house, though.”

”I think we can make that work,” Emily said. The towel on her scalp was awfully hot, but not entirely unpleasant, as long as she ignored the fact that it was, in fact, on her scalp.

”Good,” Katya said. “Shall we continue?” She removed the towel and threw it over her shoulder, then promptly picked up the shaving cream and squirted it directly onto Emily’s head. The gel was cold as it hit her hot skin, but Emily had to admit that the feeling of Katya’s fingers massaging it it across her head was kind of nice. If—and it was a petty big if—she didn’t think about the fact that it was only there to help the stylist remove every last trace of her hair.

”How long until my next meeting, Maddie?” Emily asked, trying to distract herself from any hint of pleasure she might have been getting out of this process.

“You still have about half an hour,” the assistant replied, staring at her boss’s head like it was a slow-moving train crash.

”Great. Can you call them and tell them we’re having some connectivity issues? I’ll still join but camera off because I’m tethering the call through my phone.”

”I already emailed them to see if we could push the start time back by half an hour and let them know you’d be camera-off because we’re having trouble with the lights in your office.”

”Brilliant! But, why the delay?”

”You have a ton of clothes to try on for date night,” Maddie reminded her.

”Anything that’ll look okay with this?” Emily held up the wig. “Or,” she pointed to her shaving cream-covered head, “with this?”

“I think,” Katya interjected, “you will find bald head is surprisingly versatile for wardrobe. You just need more makeup, is all.”

”Taken care of,” Maddie said, holding up the Sephora bag she carried in.

Katya produced a straight razor from her arsenal of stylist’s tools and stropped it a few times on a piece of leather Emily hadn’t noticed it before. “Okay,” Katya said when she was satisfied her blade was ready. “Last step, and then I try to help with wig, yes?” She didn’t wait for Emily’s reply. Instead, she inserted two fingers into the shaving cream and pulled Emily’s skin taut, then placed her razor at Emily’s hairline—or where her hairline used to be—and began to slide it back gently, taking care to remove every last trace of hair on the CEO’s head.

Emily still hadn’t seen what had become of her hair after Katya’s first, abbreviated pass with her clippers. She hadn’t reached up to touch the stubble left behind when Katya finished removing her long hair from her head. She had felt what was happening, yes—even perhaps enjoyed parts of it—but until this moment, there was a part of her that still believed when she did look in a mirror, she’d see someone familiar looking back. The feeling of the razor gently scraping along her scalp disabused her of any fantasy she was hanging onto. She knew that when Katya finished, she would be well and truly bald. Even Bridget had never been fully bald, though it seemed at the time of that St. Baldrick’s Day event that she was. The only truly bald women Emily had ever seen had been ill—going through chemotherapy or dealing with alopecia. Emily had no medical reason for her imminent baldness. Her stomach churned at the idea of having to explain to everyone she knew that she had actually let someone do this to her. Emily hoped Katya could work some sort of magic with the cheap wig so that it would work until she was able to get to one of those wig shops Maddie had found.

Across the office, Maddie was furiously scrolling through her phone. “What are you doing, Mads,” Emily asked, as Katya continued to razor off all traces of her hair.

”Checking to see if there are any YouTube tutorials for doing makeup with a shaved head.”

”And?”

”Oh yeah. You’ll be fine. Once we choose your outfit for tonight I’ll pick out a few looks I think will work with it and that don’t require too much effort, and I’ll send them over to you.”

”Will you also help me do my makeup?” Emily asked, all too aware, as she felt Katya’s razor continue its work, that she was entering uncharted territory. “I want to look as put together as possible when I see Jake tonight. Maybe it will help him be a little upset when he sees this,” said, pointing up at her now half-shaved head.

”To the best of my abilities.”

”You said you have date tonight?” Katya asked, carefully continuing her work.”

”Yes, with my husband. It’s our anniversary. It might, in fact, be our last anniversary after he sees this.”

”Don’t be silly,” the stylist said. “No man would divorce his wife over haircut.”

”This is a lot more than just a haircut.”

”True,” Katya acknowledged, “but also you may be surprised by his reaction. There are many men who like pretty women, even bald. Some men even prefer bald women.”

”Well, I’ve never met one.”

”I’ll bet you have. They just did not say so. There!” Katya declared. “I am finished. Just need to check smoothness.”

Emily felt Katya rub the remains of the shaving cream off her scalp, and then something else: her fingers moving across Emily’s scalp to search for any rough patches. Twice, she felt Katya spray a small amount of shaving cream onto her scalp and quickly remove it, and any stubble beneath it, with a razor. “Now we just need to rinse your scalp. Come with me to bathroom.”

The CEO froze as the stylist removed her cape and neck tissue. The bathroom. There was a huge mirror in there. She wouldn’t be able to avoid her reflection. She turned to Maddie, who stared at her with her mouth slightly agape. “That bad?”

”No,” Maddie shook her head. “Definitely different, but not bad. Good, even? You absolutely pull it off.”

”Yes,” Katya agreed, “I would have talked you out of it if I thought it would look bad.”

”Talked me out of it?” Emily exclaimed. “It’s not what I asked for to begin with!”

”No, but is what I thought you asked for, so I would have talked you out of it. Now, to bathroom?”

”I need a minute,” Emily said.

”Okay, but I need chair.” She gently took Emily’s elbow and eased her to a standing position, then picked up the chair Emily had been sitting on. “Come when you are ready.”

Emily watched the stylist pick up something that looked like an inner tube and carry it to the bathroom along with her chair. Tentatively, for the first time since before she even sat down, she reached up to touch her head, then recoiled. “It’s…sticky,” she said.

”That’s probably the residue from the shave gel,” Maddie comforted her, rushing to her side. “Katya is going to rinse it off and then I’m sure it will be nice and smooth.”

”I…don’t think…I want…”

”I know. And if I could go back in time and hire anyone other than Katya, I would. But it’s what you’ve got to work with for now, okay?”

Emily took in a deep inhale and exhaled slowly, nodding. “I’m not ready to see it yet. If I close my eyes, can you walk me into the bathroom?”

”Sure thing, boss.”

---

Moments later, Emily was staring up at the ceiling of her bathroom. What she’d thought was an inner tube had turned out to be some sort of inflatable insert that could turn a normal bathroom sink into something that at least approximated a shampoo sink. She’d managed to avoid opening her eyes until she was settled. The feel of the warm water on her bare skin had made her flinch, but after that, she had to admit, it felt kind of nice. It only lasted for a few moments before Katya turned off the water and helped Emily sit up, blotting her head with a towel. “One more thing,” the stylist declared, walking quickly out of the room.

”What more could there possibly be?” Emily asked the ceiling, and also Maddie, who was perched on the toilet seat nearby.

”I have no idea,” the assistant said. “It doesn’t seem like there could possibly be anything left.”

”Just a soothing balm,” Katya said as she reentered the room. “Will help with any irritation and make sure your skin is very soft, yes?” She splashed some on her hands and began to massage it into Emily’s scalp.

”Ohhh,” Emily let out an involuntary coo.

”Is nice, right?” Katya asked as she made small circles along the sides of Emily’s head. “I remember liking it quite a bit.”

”You’ve shaved your head before?” Maddie asked.

”Yes, when I was teenager. My father took me to barbershop. He thought it was punishment when he found out I was sleeping with boys. He was shocked when I kept it shaved for six months after.”

”So you liked it?”

”Oh yes,” Katya said. “And so did many boys. I was telling truth earlier when I said some men love a bald woman.”

”If you liked it so much,” Maddie continued, “Why didn’t you keep it longer?”

”I enrolled in cosmetology program. My teacher, she said bald stylist might scare clients. So I grew it a little, but has never been long again.”

Emily was aware of the conversation happening above her but found that she was somehow lost in the massage she was getting. She hated everything it represented—specifically, that she was now bald, would be bald or close to it for some time—but couldn’t help but give into the feeling. She wondered if Jake would be able to learn to give her scalp massages, at least until her hair grew back.

”Okay,” Katya pronounced. “That’s it. I am done. Time to look. And then I will start on the wig, yes?”

Emily’s eyes flew shut. “I’m not ready.”

She felt Maddie come stand beside her and take her hand. “You can’t avoid the mirror forever, Em. Might as well get it over with.”

”Okay,” Emily nodded. “Okay. You’re right.” She let Maddie her stand, and kept her eyes shut as she turned toward the mirror. “Count of three?” she asked.

”Onetwothree open your eyes,” Katya said quickly. “Is silly to prolong this.”

Emily nodded. She knew the stylist was right. And then, she opened her eyes.

Bald. She was bald. She knew she would be, but she didn’t really realize what that would mean. Not even the faintest shadow of her dark blonde hair was left on her head. She once again raised a tentative hand to the side of her head, and found that it was not sticky this time but perfectly smooth—smoother than her legs when she shaved them, smoother than any skin she had felt before. It felt strange but also strangely alluring, and she found she couldn’t stop petting herself. She watched the bald woman reflected back at her, so foreign and yet so familiar to her, raise her second hand to her head, continuing her exploration of its smoothness. If she hadn’t been feeling what the woman was doing, she would have sworn it was someone else. She might have even admired the look on someone else—but on her? It didn’t look or feel right. She knew there and then she’d start growing her hair back right away, and in the meanwhile she’d wear a wig. But for now, the way it felt as she ran her fingers along her scalp? That part was just fine.

---

Katya—quite understandably—had not brought a wig head with her, so she placed the cheap Marilyn Monroe wig on her own head to get started styling it as Emily began to go through the outfits her personal shopper had picked out and Maddie set Katya’s full length mirror back up so Emily could see what she was trying on. Emily finally selected a black leather dress with an asymmetrical hemline and boxy shoulders that she otherwise wouldn’t have even considered, but the structural edginess seemed to lend itself to her newly shaven head. She had already resolved not to wear the wig to dinner with Jake. She could try to deceive her board, but not her husband. Not when he’s have to see her pull the wig off at bedtime, anyway.

Just as Emily was putting her clothes back on, Katya summoned her back to the bathroom. “I need to finish styling on your head,” she said. “At this point anything I do will not stay when wig is removed.”

”I have a call in like three minutes,” Emily said. “Can’t you come in here?”

”I am all set up in bathroom,” Katya said. It was clear there was no room for negotiation.

Emily looked helplessly at Maddie. “It’s fine. I’ll set up your laptop on the bathroom vanity. Since you’ll be off camera they’ll never know. Just keep yourself on mute when you’re not talking.”

Begrudgingly, Emily made her way back to the bathroom and sat in front of the mirror, where Katya removed the wig from her head and placed it on Emily’s. She tried to pay attention to the branding agency’s presentation as she watched Katya comb and tease and gently coax the wig into something that looked, when she was done, like a passable version of blonde hair that had been slightly over-processed but still carefully maintained.

---

Emily had about five minutes between her call with the branding agency and the one with the board to pay Katya and get resituated at her desk. She hopped on Zoom a few minutes before everyone else to make sure she hadn’t knocked her wig askew in the transition. It looked better on camera than in real life, but it still wasn’t great. She hoped it was at least believable enough until she could get a better wig.

Her board chair, Thomas—also her lead investor—was first to get on the call after her. “New hair?” he observed, taking in the overstyled platinum bob.

”Um, yes. Miscommunication with the stylist. I’m going to get it fixed soon.”

”Ah.”

The rest of the board joined soon thereafter. It was the usual monthly board meeting, at least until the end, when Emily announced she’d have to end the call soon so she could meet with the PR agency.

”Before you go,” Thomas said, “I’ve been texting with some of the board members while we’ve been in this meeting. We have some concerns about your new hair. It doesn’t really convey “CEO of a green start-up.”

Emily knew Thomas and some of the board did this occasionally and it drove her crazy. ”I told you at the beginning of the call, I’m getting it fixed. I tried a new stylist. We didn’t communicate well. It will be a non-issue by next week.”

”It just looks so over-processed,” the board chair continued. “When my daughter was in high school and wanted to go blonde, her hair looked a lot like that. She went to see another stylist who told her the only thing she could really do was start completely over. She came home practically bald, poor girl. I don’t know how you’re going to get this fixed.”

”So, funny story…” Emily began. Over her computer monitor, she could see Maddie, who was positioned there to take notes, anxiously shaking her head no. Emily didn’t care. Her board had a lot of say in her company but they didn’t get any say over her. She reached up and peeled off the blonde wig. Board members whose mics weren’t muted audibly gasped. The gasps were implied from the rest, who stared at Emily’s image on their screens with their mouths agape. “I may have under-exaggerated how poorly the stylist and I communicated.”

”Emily,” Thomas said, a quiet anger in his voice she’d never heard before. “I think I’ll be joining you on your PR call. Have Maddie send me the details.” With that, he logged out of the board meeting; the rest of the directors quickly followed.

---

Sean, Emily’s PR consultant, hadn’t even turned on their camera before they reacted to Emily’s new look. “Oh my god, Emily! Your hair! Or your lack of hair! I don’t know what to say!”

”Yeah,” Emily tried to chuckle. “I had a little miscommunication with my new stylist.”

”What were you actually going for?”

”Not this.”

”Well, I think you look amazing. We should get some new headshots done.”

”I’m actually planning on getting a wig next week, Sean, but thank you.”

”Sean?” Thomas interjected, logging into the Zoom.

”Oh hi, Thomas. I didn’t know you were joining.”

”I wasn’t planning to, until our CEO revealed her new look. Any thoughts about how to address this?”

”Oh, I mean, Emily was just saying she’s going to get a wig next week so I don’t think it will be a big PR issue.”

”Yes, but what if someone sees her this weekend? This woman led one of the biggest Series A fundraises in the Pacific Northwest this year. She’s been on magazine covers. People do recognize her.”

”I wouldn’t—“ Emily began, but Thomas silenced her.

”People are going to think our CEO has cancer. And who wants to buy millions of dollars’ worth of product from a company led by a dying woman? How can they be assured that the company doesn’t go belly-up when she goes six feet under?”

”Thomas, I’m not—“

”This is about optics, Emily. What 40-year-old female CEO suddenly shaves her head? People are going to read into this what they want to read into it, unless we get out ahead of it.”

”I told you, I—“

”Well…” Sean began. “I do remember a few years ago seeing a video of an activist who shaved her head to protest the chemicals in hair care products entering the water supply. I know the company is concerned about a different type of green entirely but we can say you’re introducing a new environmental harm reduction initiative and you’re starting by opting out of being forced to use hair products that can hurt the environment?”

”Its perfect,” Thomas said. “I love it.”

“Yes, but wouldn’t I…wouldn’t I have to keep my head shaved by making this pledge?” Emily asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

”I mean, we could just say it’s symbolic,” Sean said.

”But then it’s just greenwashing,” Thomas interjected. “That’s a bad look for us. Emily wil have to commit to this new style for a while. I’ll go back to the board and start figuring out what this initiative looks like. Sean, do you think you can ghostwrite an OpEd for Emily about why she’s decided to go bald for the environment?”

”Totally. Maybe she can call on others to do the same?”

”I love it!”

”Wait,” Emily said. “I’m not keeping my head shaved for this. What you’re proposing is nothing more than a PR stunt. I’ll just cancel my plans this weekend and lay low, and then find a wig shop first thing Monday morning. And I’ll wear a hat when I go. This is all totally unnecessary.”

”No, Emily,” Thomas insisted. “Hearing what Sean is saying, I think it’s actually going to get you some good press. We’ll come up with a reason for you to start growing your hair back in…I don’t know, six months or so? Sean?”

”Yeah. Definitely no less than that. I’ll come up with something to explain why you’re growing your hair out again at that point,” Sean agreed. “Oh, Emily, this is going to be fun! I am going to send a photographer over on Monday for those new headshots, though. We’ll want to include one with the OpEd.”

”But…six months?” Emily tried to object.

”I’ve already texted the board,” Thomas said. “They love the idea.”

”I’ll have that OpEd in your inbox Monday morning,” Sean added. “I’ll text my contact at the Times over the weekend to see if they’re interested in running it.”

”No, absolutely not,” Emily stated.

“Oh, it’s happening,” Thomas said. “I’ve got to go. Dinner with the wife. Have a good weekend, Emily. Sean—I’ll talk to you on Monday?”

”You’ve got it, Thomas. Emily, I’ve got to run, too. You look fabulous. I’ll text you over the weekend once I have your photographer lined up.”

Thomas and Sean disconnected, leaving Emily alone in the Zoom room, staring at her bald reflection. “Six months, huh?” she said aloud to herself. “So much for starting to grow it out right away.” She looked up at Maddie, who was still on the other side of her monitor, looking truly horrified. “Are you ready to help me with my makeup?”

---

An hour later, Emily entered The Brook and the Beach. She’d left her bike at the office and arrived in an Uber, whose driver, she was happy to note, didn’t seem especially chatty. But now, she was aware she was attracting attention, with her own shiny bald head reflecting the candlelight as she crossed the restaurant. She looked good, if wholly unlike herself. Maddie, who had stayed way after her contracted 5pm end of day—on a Friday, no less—helped Emily apply dramatic eye makeup and a subtle contour, carefully transitioning from Emily’s already pale face to her even paler, newly exposed, scalp. She also loaned Emily her own large hoop earrings. Combined with the tight leather dress and the spiked Loubitons Emily kept in her office for important meetings but  never ventured out in, she cut a striking figure, more catwalk than CEO. She hoped it would keep people from recognizing her, too.

Emily had messaged Jake after she got off her call with Thomas and Sean. “Accidentally got a pretty big haircut today. I don’t like it, but the board and the PR team want me to keep it for a while. Six months, at least. Hope you don’t hate what you see at dinner.”

”How big of a haircut?”

Emily sent him a photo she’d snapped of her five severed ponytails, before Katya bagged them up and said she’d take care of the donation. She wasn’t ready to send him a selfie.

”Oh wow,” Jake replied.

”Just wait till you see the final result. You’re going to be shocked. I certainly was.”

”Good shocked or bad shocked?”

”I honestly don’t know.”

But she was about to find out. Jake was already seated at their table, scrolling through his phone. He didn’t look up at first as she approached.

”Hi hon,” she said, standing beside her seat. She watched as Jake looked up from his device, scanning his eyes upward, over her dress, her face, and finally, her head.

”Emily? Fuck!” He stood quickly, bumping against the table as he did. His wine glass sloshed, but did not spill. “Sorry,” he apologized to the people at the table beside his, as they looked over to see the cause of the disturbance.

”Hi,” Emily said again. She wasn’t sure what else to say, or what to make of Jake’s reaction.

”Oh my god, Emily.”

”I know,” she said. “It was…an epic breakdown of communications with someone who might need a refresher on her English lessons. And now I’m stuck with it for a while. Is it that bad?”

”Bad?!” Jake exclaimed. “Emily…you look amazing.” He reached up and ran the fingers of his right hand down the left side of Emily’s denuded head. “Just absolutely stunning.”

Emily found herself leaning into her husband’s touch. As good as it had felt when she ran her home fingers over her head, this was…electric. “You don’t hate it?”

”Emily,” Jake said, his voice husky, “I can’t wait till we get back home and I can show you exactly how much I love it.”

She grabbed his hand and kissed his palm. “Okay,” she said. “I believe you. How fast do you think we can get through dinner?”

”How about I get the check now, and we order pizza later. Once we’ve…” he trailed off, but Emily knew the rest. She guessed Katya really was right. Some men do love a bald woman. She wondered, as she watched Jake flag down a server and apologetically explain that they’d had something come up and had to leave, what else the night would reveal about him.

Maybe these next six months wouldn’t be so tough after all.

---

Hi everyone—I’ve said before that razor shaves aren’t my thing, but a few readers had requested one and once I came up with this premise, it seemed like a good time to try it out. Don’t expect these to be a regular feature in my stories, but I hope you’ve at least enjoyed the full headshave this time around!