“Ain’t nobody talking about you,” Bianca said. Her friend started laughing again.
I turned around to her and said, “Bitch, this shit ain’t funny.”
“I didn’t say it was,” she said.
“Don’t be talking about me in front of me, in my house,” I said. I couldn’t believe I was getting disrespected in my own house. Without even thinking twice, I turned to Bianca and said, “Yo, Bianca! Dig this, right? Get your shit, take your friends, and get the fuck out!”
“What?”
“You heard me. Get the fuck out of my house.”
“What? I ain’t going nowhere,” she said, as she walked over to me.
I backed up a little. I was ready to swing if I had to. I looked her straight in her face with my hand on my hip. I said, “Bitch, don’t fucking play with me. Get your shit and get the fuck out.”
“But, I already gave you my rent for this month,” she shouted.
“You’re paid up until today!”
Her friend stopped laughing. I wasn’t playing with Bianca anymore. She had crossed the line. I knew she wasn’t going to do anything but pack her shit. She couldn’t fight. And if she tried something on me, it wouldn’t work. Twenty minutes later, Bianca and her friends were gone.
CHAPTER 4
Tuesdays at the shop were usually slow days, so I took off. I wanted to get my locks changed. Bianca was mad that I kicked her out. She probably would try to come back and steal some of my shit. She was vindictive like that, so I called a locksmith to change the locks on the door. As I sat watching The View on television, I thought about riding back down to D.C. to see Chris. But who knew what he was doing today. I called his phone and got his voice mail. I left him a message, then called my brother, Mike. He said he was going to get me a new cell phone. I wanted to get Chris and me those picture phones so we can send each other flicks.
After the locksmith came, I got dressed, and drove downtown to Mike’s job. Mike is a manager for Cell One. He was behind the desk, on the phone with one of his soon-to-be babies’ moms, as the other one stood and looked at phones. My poor brother went from having no kids, to having two on the way. And the awful thing is, I don’t think he is in love with either one of the mothers. Sheena is having baby number one, for him, and number five for herself. Why he would pick a woman with four kids to have his first baby with is beyond me. Why did he have sex with her raw? He knew her ass was fertile. We used to laugh about it. Kyra, on the other hand, was the gold digger. She had a whole bunch of dirt under her nails. She was always getting money from my brother, and he didn’t know how to say no to her.
“Hi, Kyra. When are you going to have that baby?” I said, as I approached her and felt her stomach. She was tall, thin, and barely showing.
“In about another week or two.”
“Wow, you are doing good,” I said. I was amazed that the only weight she gained was in her nose and mouth.
As soon as Mike hung up the phone, Kyra went over to him and held her hand out. Mike dug in his pocket, counted a few twenties out, and gave them to her. Kyra gave him a kiss on the cheek, said goodbye to me and walked out of the store.
“Look at you,” I said, as I gave my brother a hug.
“Man, it’s hard work. Kyra’s up here getting money from me, and then dumb-behind Sheena is on the phone asking dumb-assed questions.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“She wanted to know what would happen if they both have boys. Which one would get to be the junior? If they go into labor at the same time, which one am I going to see first.” It wasn’t funny, but I had to laugh at him.
“Let me ask you. What made you get with Sheena?”
“Man, only a man would understand. When the lights are out, and the mood right, she knows how to handle her business,” he said as he held up his hands.
“And evidently you don’t know how to handle yours. You are so nasty! When are you going to tell mommy?”
“Never. She is going to go off and disown me.” I laughed at him more.
“I did tell Chanel though,” he said, scratching his head.
“Why you do that? Now you know Chanel can’t keep anything to herself.”
“No, she promised she wasn’t going to say anything.” Our older sister, Chanel, had the biggest mouth in the world. She’d been telling on us since we were kids. We discussed Mike’s dilemma some more as he helped me buy two cell phones on his discount.
* * *
I returned home, put my mail on the end table, and turned the television on. It felt so good to be Bianca free! No more dishes in the sink and I could walk around naked if I liked. I was so happy that bitch is gone. People always say you never know someone until you live with them. That is the truth.
I sat on the sofa and opened a letter addressed to Chris. It was from the Vernés Hotel in Atlantic City. We’d stayed there over the summer. Inside the envelope was a coupon for a New Year’s Eve special. It was for a dinner and massage for two, a bottle of champagne, and a deluxe room, all for three hundred dollars. I picked up the phone and made reservations. I planned to call Chris next and tell him not to make any plans, but before I got the chance to call him he called me.
“Hey, baby. I just got your message,” he said.
“Guess what, Boo?” I said all excited.
“What?”
“I just made reservations for us for New Year’s Eve.”
“Really? For where?” he asked.
“The Vernés. The place we stayed at over the summer.”
“Okay. That’s going to be expensive, Gina,” he said.
“It’s not. They sent a coupon for champagne and the room, dinner, and a massage for three hundred.”
“That’s not bad. We got a couple of weeks to think it over. I might have to work,” he said, unimpressed.
“And I bought us the picture phones today,” I said.
“You going to send mine down with pictures of you on it?”
“Yeah, I’m going to mail it today. Why didn’t you answer your phone earlier?” I asked.
“I was trying to record a promo for this party. Matter of fact, I’m going to call you back. I love you.”
“I love you too. Bye,” I said, as the phone disconnected in my ear. As soon as we get in a good conversation he always has to go. That shit makes me sick. I sat on the sofa and sulked a moment. Then the doorbell rang. I peeked out the window. It was that dude, Khalil. What was he doing here? He looked better than I remembered.
“Hey, how you doing? Is Bianca here?” he asked.
“No, she moved,” I said.
“Really, damn! She ain’t even tell me. Well, what’s up with you anyway?”
“I’m cool,” I replied.
“Can I use your bathroom?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure,” I said, after I thought about it. If Khalil was a murderer, he would have already killed Bianca. I let him use the bathroom. As he was leaving, he said, “I know you’re glad she is out of here.”
“Why you say that?”
“ ’Cause she is a broke airhead. But you got it going on. I like women that make their own money.”
“Thank you,” I said, a little confused that he would talk badly about Bianca.
“You know she is jealous of you. She’s always talking about you. That you think you better than everyone ‘cause you got a place and a nice car.”
“She said that?” I asked, stunned.
“Yeah. I asked her why she was hating on you,” he said, as he took a seat on my sofa.
“Is that right?” I said. He had to be lying. But then he started dropping major jewels. Like how my man lives in D.C. and how he be playing me. That I’m cheap as shit. That my dad drinks all the time, that my mother is crazy.
“I gave that bitch somewhere to live when her mom kicked her out. I can’t believe she would say that about me. I gave that bitch a home,” I said, as tears began to form in my eyes.
“Yeah, she ain’t shit.”
> “I know that. But why are you really here?” I asked.
“I’ve always had a thing for you,” he said, looking overat me.
“Yeah?” I said. I twisted my lip, as if to say “Whatever.”
“You know I wanted you that night I met her. I was looking at you. But when I said, ‘How you doing,’ she stepped up front. I knew she was easy, so I hollered at her. I wish I could have talked to you that night, and by now you’d be my woman.”
“I doubt it. I have a boyfriend.”
“I heard about the dude. He’s no threat. I’m a threat to him,” he said confidently.
“How you figure?” I asked.
“I’ll show you,” he said, grabbing my hand. Just the touch of his soft hand made me flinch. I had to shake it off. He noticed and asked me if I was cold.
“No, I just got a chill.”
“Yeah,” he said, as he bit his lip and looked me over.
“So, miss, what is your plan for the rest of the day?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said, as I walked him toward the door, hoping he would get the hint to leave.
“Don’t make any plans. I might want to take you out.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m cool. Thank you though.”
“Here, take my card, and tonight when you are all alone, lying on your lavender sheets and watching television, think about me.”
“How do you know what kind of sheets I got? You my stalker?” I said, surprised.
“No. But I told you. It was you I wanted,” he said, as he handed me his business card.
“Goodbye,” I said, as I opened the door.
“When the lights are out and you wish somebody was there with you, call me, okay?”
“Whatever,” I said, as he exited. After I closed the door, I looked down at the card and smelled it. It smelled just like him. I had just spent a beautiful weekend with my man, a good man. But in the back of my mind, I was curious about Khalil. I knew he knew how to throw it on you. Damn. Momentarily, I imagined how Khalil would feel inside my body. I wanted to get back at Bianca for talking shit about me. I already knew he’s got the biggest package I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t believe I was even letting my mind go there! People say the moment you meet somebody, you know whether or not they could get it. I don’t agree with that. I think you just need the right time and space.
I put Khalil out of my mind and called my brother, Mike.
“What’s up, daddy-drama?”
“Nothing. What’s going on?” he asked, sounding a little impatient.
“I want to ask you a question,” I said.
“Make it quick. I got somebody on the other line.”
I told him how Bianca and I were on Khalil at the bar, but Bianca was more aggressive and hollered at him first. Then I mentioned how she and I had a heated blowup.
“Now you know you can’t live with anyone. I don’t know why you let her move in in the first place. Continue,” Mike said.
“So he came over here. He said that he really liked me and wanted to get with me.”
“Are you stupid? That’s so much game.”
“No, he said and knew things that he would know only if Bianca told him.”
“Gina, he is trying to play you.”
“You think so?” I asked, confused.
“Yes.”
“He said he liked me. Why would he say that?” I asked.
“He is using the oldest trick in the book on you.”
“And what’s that?”
“Get with her girlfriend. You talk to her and get all the info you can on the one you are really interested in. Then you dump the first one. You then have the ammunition you need to get with her girlfriend. Y’all run y’all mouths, so chances are, he knows everything about you.”
“He said he likes a girl with her own money. He said he likes a woman that is independent, and he likes that I got my own shit.”
“He was trying to stroke your ego. It is a game. It don’t matter what you got. He is just trying to fuck you. To be honest, looks ain’t everything. I’ll take an okay chick with a great body and—”
“I already know,” I said, interrupting him.
“Shut up and let me finish. One, I can’t believe you are going for this. I raised you better. Two, he is going to say and do whatever it takes to get you. But hey, don’t listen to me. Do your thing. I got to go; I got baby-momma-drama.”
“Which one?”
“Sheena.”
“Next time wear a condom.”
“There won’t be a next time. I’m getting snipped. Bye.”
So what do men want? A cute girl or a girl with her own money. I don’t know. Sometimes you see a cute guy with a busted chick, but she got money. Then you might see an okay-looking chick and she got somebody doing everything for her because she looks half decent. I don’t know if men like independent women or not. I told everybody in the shop about what happened with Bianca, and how Khalil came to see me. Everyone had a different opinion. My survey was unscientific, but out of the five people I asked, only one person told me to get with Khalil. I would love to get with him. If the shoe was on the other foot, I know for a fact that Bianca would do it to me. But I’m not Bianca and I have a man.
CHAPTER 5
Marcia, a client of mine that I’d gone to high school with, looked in the mirror and grimaced. “Gina, these curls are too tight.”
“Trust me. After you get out of the shower your curls are gonna drop.”
“But what if they don’t?” she asked.
“They will. I promise.” Marcia was my last customer of the day, so I thought I was just about done. I was so wrong. As Marcia was leaving, Sharissa, a woman I’d worked on the previous day, walked into the shop looking like she got attacked. She walked over to me, and the only thing I could say was, “Girl, there is a patch of your hair missing.”
“Yeah, I know, girl. He be pulling my hair out bad,” she said, as if it was normal. I looked a little closer and saw that her eye was bruised.
“What’s that? A black eye?” I said, as I touched her face.
“He thinks I’m cheating on him. He said, ‘You think you cute ‘cause you got your hair done.’ ” She started crying. “I don’t have anywhere to go. He is looking for me.”
Janea walked over and asked her if she told him where she was going. She said no, but we still locked the door and pulled the blinds shut. I walked over to Sharissa and made her have a seat.
“Listen, you should call the cops, and then I can drop you off somewhere,” I said, as I tried to remain calm. We all looked up at a loud knock on the door.
We all knew it was Sharissa’s boyfriend. Janea called the salon owner on her cell phone. I called the cops on the shop phone.
Janea went to the door and peeked through the blinds and said, “May I help you?”
“Yeah. Tell Sharissa to come on out!”
“There isn’t anyone named Sharissa here,” she said.
We were all quiet, hoping that he would just go away. But he didn’t. He said to Janea, “I see her car and I’m about to put it on fire. If you don’t want to get involved, tell her to bring her ass out.”
“Okay, listen,” she said. “This is my shop, and Sharissa ain’t here. She got her hair done yesterday.”
“Well, if you see her, tell her her man is looking for her.”
“Okay, I will do that.”
He left and we were relieved when the cops came. Sharissa filed a report, and after the cops left I tried to do something with the hair she had left. I thought the drama was over until Annette told me I had a call.
I picked up the phone and said, “Hello.”
A dark voice responded, “Are you the bitch that got my baby looking like a ho?”
“What?” I said.
“You’re covering for her. I know she messes with one of those barbers in there.”
“We don’t have any barbers,” I lied, trying to calm him.
“Yes you do, and I’m su
re this white Honda is the dude’s car she is messing with.”
“That’s my car. Please do not touch my car!” I screamed. Everybody turned around, and we all ran for the door. But it was too late. He’d flattened all my tires. I called the cops again. While we waited for them to return, I thought, like, do you know how much my tires cost? Sharissa must have read my mind because she pulled out two hundred dollars and gave it to me. We didn’t ask her to, but she gathered her things and left.
“I knew I had to have my car towed to the shop. I immediately thought to call Khalil. I dialed the number off his business card. He answered on the first ring and I blurted out, “Hey, this is Gina. All my tires are flat. Do you think you could come tow my car to the shop?”
“Damn, you in a rush. Where are you?” he asked.
“At the shop on Fortieth and Spring Garden Street.”
“I’ll be right there.” Khalil arrived fifteen minutes later, wearing a tan construction jacket, tan boots, and a black skull cap. He smelled like he just got out of the shower. His hair was lightly greased and his waves were aligned in perfect S’s. His facial hair was trimmed just right. Everybody in the shop did a double take, like, Who is that? He walked up to me and asked for my keys. I gave them to him. He loaded my car on a lift and told me not to worry. He would get it fixed.
He brought my car back two hours later and told me the cost of the repair was on him.
“Well, I really appreciate you getting my tires fixed,” I said, as I walked him to the door.
“You can call me for anything you want, tow-related or not,” he said, stroking his chin.
“Okay, I will.”
“Look, I know you got a man, but how about us being friends?”
“I got enough friends,” I said.
“We’ll see,” he said, as he eyed me over. “Can I call you later on? Maybe we can talk.”
“Talk about what? Bianca?” I asked.
“No, talk about us,” he said with an attitude.
“Whatever. It’s cold out here, I have to go,” I said, as I walked back into the shop. As I stepped inside, I could hear Janea yelling, “Who is that?”
“That’s the one I was telling y’all about. That’s the one Bianca said was the best piece ever,” I answered.
My Boo Page 3
