At Waves of Color, owner Melissa calls upon more than 10 years of experience to guide each stylist through an extensive training program. Service rates are based on the experience levels and height of the staff members, who perform a variety of salon and spa services ranging from hair and nail care to skincare and waxing. Available for purchase onsite, the salon's collection of products envelops brands such as Moroccanoil, OPI, and Pureology.
Ashanti's Hair Design offers cuts, coloring, and texturizing treatments in a warm and welcoming environment. The artistic stylists combine technique and fashion-savvy to tailor hairstyles to their clients' features and lifestyles. An elegant cut, stunning new color, blowdry, or fringing treatment can breathe new life into a hairdo.
Certified by the American Board of Surgery and an affiliate of seven surgery centers, Dr. Clayton A. Frenzel completed more than 2,000 surgical procedures during his training at some of the nation’s most competitive surgical programs, honing an expertise he now brings to his practice at Advanced Cosmetic Surgery. Aiming to put clients at ease, the personable Dr. Frenzel consults each patient one-on-one before performing cosmetic procedures such as breast or body surgery, facial rejuvenation, or postbariatric contouring, designed to remove loose skin after significant weight loss. Additionally, Frenzel and his team noninvasively enhance physiques through nonsurgical procedures ranging from Botox injections to chemical peels.
Licensed massage therapist Tammy Coggins works to fight stress and pain with deep-tissue, Swedish, and lymphatic-drainage massage techniques. Coggins performs additional modalities including craniosacral therapy, designed to lengthen and align the spine, and visceral manipulation, during which she applies soft force to the connective tissues.
The mother-daughter team behind Creme de la Creme cossets visages in a salon and spa space marked by accenting French decor. When they're not pampering individual clients with haircuts, facials, and massages, they're throwing specialized parties and group getaways for all manner of clients, from kids to bachelorettes to coworkers. They also keep the onsite boutique stocked with shiny Swarovski crystals, glistening handbags, and rhinestone clothing to accommodate any client who wants to ride a bicycle home in style safely, at night, through a sea of paparazzi.
Ricky gingerly stretched his left shoulder as the bell rang, signaling the start of the third round. He wobbled back to the center of the ring and stared into the Sledgehammer's black shark eyes. Ricky glanced nervously at his opponent's gloves and bit down on his mouth guard. The tension in the crowd was palpable—it's not often that an amateur fights a pro.
Ricky knew the Sledgehammer was weak on his right side, but there was no way he could throw a decent punch with a bum shoulder. Coach had warned him not to over-train, but he didn't listen. Had to work on his left jab. Had to get stronger, but where did it get him? In a ring with the Sledgehammer and a torn rotator cuff, that's where.
The punch landed on Ricky's ear, and he was back on the ground. His vision swirled in a miasma of blue ropes and blurred faces. The blow muffled the sounds of the shouting crowd, but Ricky wasn't down. Not yet. He slumped in his corner, holding his head between his gloves. Just as the world started to right itself again, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Your coach sent me," said the voice that belonged to the hand. "Try to relax."
Fingers pressed into Ricky's shoulder, and pangs of discomfort melted seamlessly into utter relief. He groaned as his arms slackened and the pain ebbed away. "This won't be a permanent fix, but it might get you though the round," the voice said. "Be careful, though, or you could make it worse."
Before Ricky could express his gratitude—or even see the man's face—the bell had rung again. His legs shook as he rose and approached the center of the ring, gloves poised for attack.
The Sledgehammer took a swing, but Ricky ducked and aimed a left jab at his opponent's head. His legs drove the punch; momentum surged through his core. As his glove made contact, beads of sweat ricocheted off the Sledgehammer's face. His features went slack as he fell to the ground.
The ref tapped the ground three times. As the crowd spasmed and roared with satisfaction, the ref stood, grabbed Ricky's left arm, and held it high. The amateur had won.