September 1, 1975
Fabian is a San Francisco native and graduate of the Cinta Aveda Institute.
Fabian has a friendly and free-spirited personality.
Excerpt fromÂ Redemption
“Seriously?” I said, eyeing Fabian as I walked to his station, a towel around my just-washed hair. He was wearing a Team Dyna shirt.
“I joined your fan club!” he said.
“Obviously,” I said, taking a seat.
“Oh, come on. It’s adorable,” he said as he began combing out my hair. “So what are we doing today?”
“I’m thinking maybe a shag.”
“Aw, thanks for the thought, sugar, but you know I don’t swing that way.”
“But seriously. A shag, darling? That’s so not your style.”
“Well, as with everything, it’ll just be for a month or so, right?”
Fabian shrugged, brandishing his scissors. “You’re the boss lady. So dish. You and Vicky.”
I sighed. “Nothing new. I still haven’t talked with her.”
“And what about the reporter babe?” he asked as he pulled my hair into a ponytail, securing it with a rubber band.
My heart stuttered. “No. Nothing.”
“Surprised about that, luv. I really thought you’d have mended things by now.”
“Yeah, well…” I fell silent as I watched Fabian in the mirror. He pulled out a tape measure and stretched it down the length of the ponytail.
“Thirteen inches,” he said. “Locks of Love has got to be amazed at how often they get hair from you. I’ve lost track of how many times you’ve donated.”
“Ten, I think.” I smiled. “I just keep imagining a bunch of little white-haired girls running around out there. Little Dinahs.”
“I don’t think many cancer patients are doing much ‘running around,’ hon.”
“Perhaps not, but most of the kids with hair loss have it due to alopecia, not chemo.”
Fabian shook his head and chuckled. “I learn something new every time I see you. You’re like a Dynapedia.”
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up and cut my hair.” We laughed as he carefully sliced the ponytail and took it away.