Andy followed Phil through an unexpected gated archway between buildings and into a little garden lined with shopfronts. A boot repair shop, a fruit juice bar, a tiny dress shop and a florist lined one side. On the other, a dental office, a hair salon and an optometrist sat together. The end of the little garden area opened onto a side street with diagonal parking.

"I didn't know this was here," said Andy.

"The neighborhood is pretty old and a lot of people who work here live nearby and shop in this place. It's called Studio Alley," said Phil.

"It kind of looks like a movie set."

"Well, some tv shows have been filmed here but no movies." Phil pointed back the way they came, "That's Studio 3C and 4, game shows mostly but they redress 4 for pilots sometimes. And once in a while this turns into New York or Milano or even Bangkok."

Andy laughed. "Why are we here?"

"We're going to get you a haircut by the best hair stylist who doesn't work inside the studio. It's already set up."

"Oh." Andy noticed the cables, booms and lightstands now. The whole front of the hair salon had been pulled out into the sidewalk to make room inside for the equipment. The facade had obviously been constructed for just this reason.

An assistant director barked orders and Andy went through the charade of entering the shop and waiting a few moments before sitting down in one of the styling chairs in front of a tall brunette wearing a peach-colored tunic and white slacks.  

"Hello, darling," said the stylist in a surprisingly deep contralto. "I'm Penelope Nicholls. Or Penny."

"I'm..." Andy hesitated only a fraction of a second. "Wren Andrews." I am Wren Andrews, now.

"Mm-hmm," said Penny. "You live somewhere dry and desolate, perhaps uncivilized. You've never had your hair styled properly, have you?"

"Uh?" Wren didn't know how to answer. "Probably not," seemed safe enough.

"Well, I'm here to fix that," said the stylist. She ran her fingers through Wren's pale brown locks. "You've never had hair extensions?"

"No."

"Would you like to? Your hair is long enough to cut into a feminine style but you'll have more -- authority in your role if I give you longer hair."

Wren blinked, thinking about it. Penny obviously knew what was up and perhaps had been primed to offer the extensions. It would make good theater to have long hair, Wren decided, nodding.

"How long?" asked Penny. "Shoulders? Waist? Ass?"

Wren giggled, startled at how Penelope had offered the last option. "What do you think?"

"The longer the hair the more I get paid so if you leave it up to me, you're going to get the longest I've got strands for," Penny said smiling. "I think you would look stunning with hair down to where you sit."

"Okay," said Wren. "Uh, this is, going to take a long time?"

"All day, probably," said Penny. "We're not going to use clip-ins. But first, we need to dye your hair to match." She turned to one of the other women in the shop. "Sally, bring the 26" off-black and platinum blonde extensions." Sally, a young woman with dark hair and cinnamon skin, nodded and headed toward the back of the shop.

Wren made a face. "Those are my color choices?"

Penny looked thoughtful and felt of Wren's hair again. "Easy to dye your hair to match either of those, or dye one of them to match you. Your hair is kind of a meh! color though."

Wren laughed. "I've often thought that."

"Not quite blonde, sort of medium-light ash brown. It would be a waste to dye the extensions that color."

"No," agreed Wren. "But I don't think I'd look natural with black hair and platinum blonde is -- such a cliche."

Penny laughed. "Remember what business you're in. You want to look so good no one gives you a second thought?"

"Uh?" The double-back logic escaped Wren for a moment.

Sally returned with the hair extensions, lying them across the backs of the unoccupied chairs on either side. Both sets of extensions were very straight, two masses of hair tied in thick swathes, one blond as light, one dark as night.

"We could go with blonde curls, these take permanents very well and your hair will, too," said Penny, fingering one of the swatches. "It's natural hair from women in India who have these thick, positively gorgeous manes. They get their heads shaved for religious reasons and the temples sell the hair. It takes dye and curls wonderfully well."

"I dunno. I can't imagine how long, blonde curls would look on me."

"Sally," said Penny. "Fetch the Dolly Parton wig."

"Oh, my God!" said Wren, laughing.

"It'll be classic," said Penny. "Trust me."

The cameras turned and microphones hovered, ignored by everyone in the shot. Phil sat on a stool against one wall and watched for a bit but eventually left without saying goodbye. The director followed him to the pulled-out front of the shop and talked with him on the sidewalk for a moment. Then he and Phil pushed the shopfront at an angle to block the February wind from coming into the shop.

Wren heard the director say to Phil, "We just won't tell the union about that."

Phil laughed and walked away.

Wren noticed him go and suppressed an urge to call to him, thinking, "He's probably got other things to do and I'm going to be here for hours."

Phil did not look back and Wren could not help but feel a bit abandoned.

Sally suddenly plopped a massive curly blonde wig down on Wren's head causing a startled jump.

"Sorry I frighten' you. Di'n't you see me?" asked Sally in her soft accent.

"Uh, no." Wren never admitted to being half-blind without a better reason than getting momentarily startled. Phil knew and that was unusual.

Penny adjusted the wig and gestured into the mirror. "Is he your boyfriend?" she asked.

Wren had expected a question about the wig. "Oh, no. Phil's the producer's assistant."

"Ah, ha," said Penny but she smiled as if Wren had shared a secret. She gestured again at the mirror.

Wren frowned. "That's a lot of hair."

"I thin' you look adorable," said Sally, adjusting the set of the wig a bit.

"She does," agreed Penny.

Wren blushed, then grinned and turned this way and that, examining different angles. "I look like a ditz."

"An airhead," agreed Penny.

Sally giggled.

"A bimbo," said Wren.

"A tart, as our British friends would say," said Penny. All three laughed.

"They're filming all of this," said Wren, acknowledging the film crew with a nod. Only two people were left, a cameraman and a soundman; the director and script girl had apparently left right after Phil. Why did a reality TV show need a script girl, Wren wondered.

"They'll use the good parts of that," said Penny. "So, the blonde curls are a go?"

Wren sighed. "I think so. It's cliched but cliches sell. If I'm going to be a starlet, I might as well look the part."

"Thatta girl," said Penny. "We'll get started."

They worked through the rest of the morning, first bleaching Wren's hair completely to translucent white with a faint lemon tinge. Wren didn't like the smell of the chemicals but said nothing. After the hair had dried completely, color was added back; platinum was actually darker than the neutral lemon-white.

Meanwhile, Sally had worked at another station, curling the strands of the the platinum extensions to a bit more than wavy but much less than tight curls. This had been done with heated curlers and some really smelly solutions that probably could not be used on hair still attached to a head. Now dry, the long blonde waves had been clipped up to air a bit.

"We almos' ready with the esstentions," said Sally to Wren. "You goin' to be beautiful. Beautiful hair."

But Wren seemed fascinated with the look of the short blonde shag. "I could just go with this."

"Too late," said Penny in her oddly deep voice. "We're going for the full do. You know how much I get to charge the studio for this?"

Wren giggled. "Oh, well. I wasn't using my brain for much anyway."

Penny laughed. "Let's take a break and then I'll give you a body curl that I can blend in with the extensions. No one will be able to tell it isn't your own hair. After the perm, I'll have to use some restoratives on your hair, too, so it doesn't break while we do the fusion. Then you can just treat it like your very own, should last a year unless you ride around with your head out the window like a dog."

Penny had explained the whole process to Wren during the dyeing. The hair extensions would be fused to the hair roots, a few strands at a time by the application of heat and some more chemicals. This would have to be done hundreds of times to provide a full head of hair with plenty of body. Afterward, the extensions could be treated like natural hair, combed, brushed, shampooed and styled. Even with both Sally and Penny working, it would take another six to eight hours to do all the work.

Wren sighed, dreading the tedium of such a process.

"Here comes your boyfriend," said Penny, causing Wren to look up.

Phil came through the door with a tray of drinks and sandwiches from the commissary. "Lunch," he called.

The technicians took a break, too, and soon everyone was munching on thin-sliced roast beef, tuna salad or chicken filet sandwiches and drinking iced tea.

"Hey," said Phil to Wren.

"Hey."

"I like the color."

Wren nodded, vaguely embarrassed but trying not to show it. "Wait till you see how I look with all the big hair Penny is making for me."

"Can't wait," said Phil, smiling.