Excerpt of Copycat by Kimberla Lawson Roby

Simone walked inside Marie’s Hair Salon and stopped dead in her tracks. She wasn’t positive, but she could’ve sworn that Traci Calloway Cole, the nationally known author, was sitting in the waiting area. She knew Traci lived in Mitchell, yet she’d never seen her in person.

Simone stepped closer to the smiling twentysomething receptionist. “Hi, I have a five forty-five appointment with Renee.”

“Of course,” the young woman said, typing on her computer keyboard. “It looks like Renee has already done a consult with you by phone, so I think you’re all set. She should be with you shortly, but in the meantime, would you like coffee or tea? We also have bottled water.”

“No, I think I’m fine for now, but maybe later.”

“Sounds good. You can have a seat right over there,” the receptionist said, eyeing the waiting area.

“Thank you.”

Simone sat across from the woman she believed to be Traci Calloway Cole, and once they made eye contact, she knew it was her. Simone had seen her photo on her book jackets and on her web site, and she looked just like it: same thick, shoulder-length hair, high cheekbones, and all.

Traci smiled. “How are you?”

“I’m good, and you?”

“Doing well.”

Simone set her brown shoulder bag on the chair next to her. “I hope it’s okay for me to ask, but are you Traci Calloway Cole?”

Traci smiled again. “Yeah, that would be me I guess.”

They both laughed.

“Well, I’m Simone Phillips, and it’s very nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well.”

Simone didn’t want to show it, but she was ecstatic— especially since she’d written a book herself and had been hoping she would soon meet a published author in person. “I have both your books, and I really enjoyed reading them.”

“How very kind of you, and thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“You’re quite welcome. I had also planned on attending both your signings, but when your first book came out I was ill. Then when your other one was released last year, I was out of town.”

“Well, I hope you can come in September. That’s when my next book is being published.”

“I’ll be there.”

Traci set down the magazine she was holding. “So, have you been coming here for a while?”

“No, as a matter of fact, this is my first time. But I’ve heard really great things about it. What about you?”

“Marie has been my hairstylist for fifteen years. She didn’t open her salon until five years ago, but I went to her when she worked with someone else. She’s very talented, and she’s good people. One of the sweetest women I know.”

“That’s wonderful. And actually, my appointment is with Renee.”

“Renee is awesome as well, and you’ll love her, too. To be honest, I think you’d be happy with any of the stylists here. All of them take their work very seriously, and they have the best customer service.”

“That’s one of the reasons I decided to give them a try. A girl at work raved over how well they treat their clients.”

“It’s the truth. They never overbook, and you never have to wait longer than five or ten minutes when you arrive. Your appointment is your appointment and no one else’s.”

“Well, I wish I could say the same for the salon I’ve patronized for more than two years. There have been times when my stylist would schedule three other people around the same time she scheduled me, and I never got out of there until three hours after my appointment. But it was two weeks ago, when I had a six p.m. appointment and didn’t get out until after ten, that I was finally done. I knew I was never going back there.”

Traci raised her eyebrows. “Four hours? Did you get a relaxer? Color? Something that would justify being there all that time?”

“No, that’s the killing part about all of it. Yes, there were two other clients and my stylist was trying to work on all three of us, but all I got was a wash, blow dry, and curl. That’s it.”

“How awful. I just don’t get that. I realize everyone wants to earn as much as possible, but it doesn’t make much sense if you end up losing all your clients. Nowadays people have a lot of choices, and they can take their business elsewhere.”

“Exactly,” Simone said, looking around the salon. “When I first walked in, I wondered where everyone was. I mean, you and I are the only two waiting.”

“That’s because Marie and Renee are finishing up their clients right as we speak, and the other three stylists just started on theirs.”

“I love it here already. And it’s so chic looking.”

“After what you’ve been through, I guess so,” Traci said, and they both laughed. “But where did you go before you found your last stylist?”

“A place called Seasons.”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never gone there.”

“It was nice enough, but I wasn’t really happy with the way my hair usually turned out. Or at least it never turned out the way it always had when I lived in Ohio. The girl I went to there was an expert on working with short styles,” Simone said, now regretting that she’d slipped and mentioned where she was from. It wasn’t that this information was a secret, but Ohio was a place she tried not to think about.

“You really do have a cute cut. It’s very becoming.”

“Thanks.”

“And is that where you’re from? Ohio?”

“Yes.”

“Really? Then how did you end up here in Mitchell?” Traci said, chuckling. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my hometown and I wouldn’t live anywhere else, but most people who move here come for a reason.”

Simone laughed along with her. “I’m sure, because it’s not like it’s a major city.”

“Far from it. A hundred fifty thousand people isn’t tiny, but it’s still small.”

“The insurance company I work for closed that location, and in order for me to keep my position and seniority, I had to take an opening here.”

“Oh, okay.”

Simone still hated that she’d had to relocate so abruptly, but in truth, it couldn’t have come at a better time. So much had happened, most of which she tried to block from her mind on a daily basis. Life in Ohio had turned out terribly, and she would never forgive her former fiancé, who’d purposely betrayed her. He’d turned on her and told things he shouldn’t have to the wrong people. But that was a whole other story, and thankfully, it was all behind her.

Simone and Traci chatted a couple of minutes longer until Marie walked toward them.

“Ready?” the tall, shapely woman said to Traci.

“Yep, and by the way, this is Simone. This is her first time coming here, and she has an appointment with Renee.”

“That’s great. Welcome, and please let us know if you need anything or if there’s something we can do better for you.”

“I will, and thank you.”

Traci grabbed her Gucci shoulder bag and stood up. “It was very nice meeting you, Simone. I really enjoyed talking to you.”

“Likewise, and much continued success with your books.”

“Thank you.”

When Traci and Marie walked away, Simone could barely contain herself. Traci was so nice, outgoing, and down- to-earth. She was also beautiful, and Simone loved the dark denim skinny jeans and oversized fuchsia cashmere sweater she had on. It was exactly the kind of outfit she’d love to have herself, and the black heeled boots Traci wore were to die for.

Now Simone wished she’d had the courage to tell Traci about the romance novel she’d written. She’d desperately wanted to, but she hadn’t wanted Traci to think that this was the only reason she’d introduced herself. Sometimes that sort of thing could be a turnoff, when all a person wanted was to relax, have a cordial conversation, and not talk about work. Simone certainly understood that, and she respected people’s time.

Simone picked up a copy of Essence magazine from the glass table in front of her, but when she did, she saw a woman walking toward the receptionist to make payment and another heading in her direction.

“You must be Simone?” the petite middle-aged woman said.

“I am. Are you Renee?”

“Yes, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

They shook hands, and Simone said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you also.”

Renee turned to the side. “I’m all ready for you.”

“Sounds good.”

Simone followed Renee, and as she passed Traci, sitting in one of Marie’s chairs, Traci smiled at her and said, “Enjoy.”

“I will,” Simone replied, and it was then that she made up her mind to contact Traci for advice on writing and how to get published. She was also going to make some changes in her wardrobe; see if she could find those jeans and that sweater Traci was wearing. She’d even love to have Traci’s boots, but with it already being the first week in March, pickings for boots were likely pretty slim. Although, when it came to the Gucci purse Traci was carrying, Simone knew she could purchase that as soon as possible—just as soon as she drove over to Chicago to the Gucci store on Michigan Avenue. She would do so the second she got off work tomorrow.