Page 25 of Just Listen
“Yeah? Negro, are you serious, right now?”
I lightly tittered. “What’s up, man?”
“So, that’s really how it is? Five years in, and now it’s just fuck me?”
“Did I say that?”
“Might as well have. It’s been a fucking month.”
“Okay. Whose fault is that?”
“So, you saying that I wanted this?”
“You didn’t?” I countered.
There was a brief pause.
“Nigga, why are you playing with me? How the fuck does me saying that some shit has to change, equates to you leaving this house, and resting your head elsewhere?”
“Shit, you was telling me to leave. Screaming at the top of your lungs. You don’t remember that?”
“I was trying to get you to listen to me. I was frustrated. The last thing I was expecting was for you to walk away. You didn’t even try.”
“That’s the thing. You gotta say what you mean and mean what you say. If you’re frustrated, then say that shit. You don’t tell a nigga to get out, when I’m the muthafucka paying all the bills in that bitch. Make it make sense.”
“That’s how we both know that I can’t put you out, for real.”
“I was tired of the threats.”
“So, that’s it?”
“What chu mean?”
She sucked her teeth. “Stop fucking playing with me. You know exactly what I’m asking. Do you really want it to end like this?”
I sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Okay. Then come get all your fucking clothes out of here. Cause I’m tired of sitting around here, wondering. And do that ASAP, before I start throwing this shit outside!”
Seeing that she’d hung up, I shook my head. “I wasn’t even trying to deal with her crazy ass today, but fuck it. I guess it’s finally time to stop running and go deal with this shit.”
Jaylah
Stepping into Jahreiah’s salon, I glanced around, not really recognizing many of the faces. The shop was packed and that wasn’t surprising. My sister’s shop was one of the hottest in the city. Right up there with our Aunt Rye’s. I was blessed to have multiple hairstylists in my family, and I would go to whoever had the quickest availability. This time around, I’d talked to Jahreiah and she was going to be in the shop today, which was a rarity.
My sister was a celebrity hair stylist and made a lot of house calls. She would also travel occasionally, but really didn’t care to, because she had small children. Of course, she really didn’t have to work at all, because she had money just like me, and her man was also raking in a serious cash flow. So, Jahreiah did hair mostly for the sheer love of it and got to pick and choose when she wanted to work, at all. So, getting your hair done by her was definitely a blessing, and you’d always walk away grateful, because my sister was the fucking truth.
High key, I think that Jahreiah aka Riah still did hair, because she would be bored, otherwise. Being in a shop, amongst a bunch of cackling women, was pure entertainment, and even I’d find myself hanging around, regardless of needing my hair done or not. Just to gossip and bullshit.
Sauntering through the shop, I made my way back to Riah’s private suite. When I stepped into the space, I saw that she had three clients sitting and waiting, while there was a client already in her chair. Meanwhile, she was standing there, texting away onher phone, with her long hair trussed up in a bun, while rocking an Alo sports bra and leggings getup. Standing behind the second chair was her assistant, Kema, who was braiding another client’s hair.
“Hey, y’all,” I spoke and waved.
“Hey,” everyone responded simultaneously.
“There that big fine muthafucka go,” Kema playfully boasted, as she always did.
She was from our daddy’s old neighborhood, Sunny Side, and we’d known her forever. She didn’t have a cosmetologist license or anything, but could braid her ass off. So, when my sister opened the shop, she hired Kema, and I felt like that had been a good move. Kema was one of the shop’s braiders, and made life so much easier for the stylists. Whenever Riah was in the shop, she worked right beside her, braiding all the heads down for wig installs.
