In The Cut

by Arlene Brathwaite

  “Girl, there ain’t nothing better than sex.”

  “Before last night, I would’ve agreed with you.”

  “What… in… the… world? What did he do to you?”

  Olivia’s thoughts took her back to last night. The way Saint had swept her off her feet and whisked her to the bedroom, the way he had been so gentle with her, the way he had her on fire, and then just as she was about to throw caution to the wind and let him sex her without a condom, he switched gears on her. The magic in his hands. With just a simple shoulder massage. Oh God, did he know? She tried not to let on. She tried to lay as still as possible as her legs spasmed and she…

  “Olivia!” Grace said, as Olivia ran the red light. An on coming car skidded to a halt and honked his horn.

  Olivia swerved. “Fucking asshole!”

  Grace’s eyes were as big as saucers. Olivia cursed? And then she watched Olivia put the air conditioner on full-blast and then let down all the windows. “Giiirl, we is going to my grandmama’s house Monday afternoon, when all this is over.”

  “For what?”

  “That man done put some roots on you.”

  “I’m going to ask Grace to marry me,” Glenn said, as Saint pulled up to Glenn’s apartment building.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I love her, Saint.”

  “Did you love her after or before she rocked your world?”

  “I was in love with her before she rocked my world, but after… I need her in my life, forever.”

  “I think you’re thinking with the little head.”

  “Nah, Saint. We made a connection last night.”

  “Yeah, your dick in her pussy.”

  “I’m dead serious, right now.”

  Saint stared at him for a moment. “And when are you supposed to be asking her to marry you?”

  “As soon as I buy the ring.”

  “And when is that?”

  “This might not be the right time, but I need a loan.”

  “Oh… hell no.”

  “C’mon, I’m your boy. You know I’m good for it. I’m about to be the next icon of fashion.”

  “I don’t care if you were going to be the next president of the United States.”

  “Saint—”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “No.”

  “Saint!”

  “No! I’m not giving you money for a ring. If you two made a connection like you claim, she would marry you without a ring.”

  “I can’t believe you’re going to deny me.”

  “And I can’t believe you’re going to give your heart to a woman you barely know.”

  “A woman I barely know? That’s why you won’t help me out? You think… Grace isn’t HER. She’s not going to stab me in the chest with a six inch dagger.”

  “This has nothing to do with HER, so don’t even go there. I just don’t want any parts of it.”

  “Any parts of it?”

  “It’s going to start off with me giving you the money for the ring, and then you’re going to ask me to be your best man.”

  “You wouldn’t be my best man?”

  “Then you’re going to have your kids calling me Uncle Clayton.”

  “That’s what normal people do, Saint.”

  “I’m not normal! My life was never normal, it will never be normal. Do you really want your family around me? Think about that real hard. Grace and your children would only be more pawns Josephine would use to control me. Do you want your future family to be treated as pawns?”

  Glenn looked out the car window, and without looking back at Saint he spoke, “You’re my best friend. And I love Grace. What you’re indirectly telling me is if I marry her, our friendship will end, only because you wouldn’t want us entangled in your screwed up life.”

  “Follow you heart, Glenn. Friends come and go, but true love…”

  Glenn took a deep breath and opened the car door. “You’re right. If she really loves me, she won’t worry about some stupid ring, right?”

  “Think of it as the first test of the many you will give her.”

  “No, Saint. Normal people don’t test the ones they love.”

  Saint pulled up his shirt and ran his fingers across the keloid on his chest.

  “Like I said Saint, normal people.”

  Early Monday morning, Olivia was greeted by news reporters who looked like they had camped out in front of the salon all night. She smiled and answered a couple of questions before unlocking the shudders and walking in. Grace, Miki, and Baby walked in ten minutes later. The rest of Olivia’s staff, Chuck, Esther, and Jordan arrived a half hour later.

  Olivia’s heart was beating a million miles a minute. She kept going over every single detail to make sure she didn’t miss anything. She called Saint’s cell phone and got no answer. “Grace, call Glenn, see if they are on their way.”

  “You must’ve talked them up,” Grace said, looking toward the front door. Glenn walked in, cheesing for the cameras, wearing a corduroy, checker-board design, outfit. On the back of the jacket, in gold lettering, was written “KING ME”.

  Olivia bit on her bottom lip when she didn’t see Saint. She pulled Glenn away from one of the reporters. “Where’s Clayton?”

  “He’ll be here. He had to… stop by the office, first.”

  “Stop by the office?”

  “Yeah, he had some last minute paperwork he needed to get to his people.”

  “Miss Clark,” Saint said, handing the seventeen year old, mother of two her test paper. “I’m proud of you.”

  “An eighty-five, Mr. Andrews? Oh my God. I can’t believe it. This is the highest grade I ever got on a test. Thank you, Mr. Andrews.”

  “Don’t thank me. I didn’t pass the test, you did.”

  “But it was your teaching—”

  Saint cut her off. “It was your dedication. You proved to yourself that you got it in you.” He looked down at the next test in his hand. “Mrs. Ramos,” he said, giving the middle-aged Spanish woman a suspicious look.

  “Mr. Andrews, you know my English isn’t very good and—”

  Saint held his hand up. “I know you’re not giving me an excuse Mrs. Ramos. In this class, what did we say an excuse is?”

  “It’s a pretty word for bullshit.”

  “Hmm. So, what were you saying?”

  “Nothing, Mr. Andrews.” Saint handed her the test paper.

  “My God,” she said, putting her hand to her chest. She looked up at the name on the paper to make sure it was hers. “Eighty-four, Mr. Andrews?”

  “Congratulations.”

  Mrs. Ramos stood up and hugged him. She said a prayer for him in Spanish, and then kissed his hands.

  “You did it. Mrs. Ramos. All I did was convince you that you could do it.” Saint saw Mr. Reed stiffen, knowing he was the only one who didn’t receive his test yet.

  “Mr. Reed,” Saint said, walking toward him. “I see our little talk went a long way.” Saint handed him his test.

  “Get the fuck out of here!” Mr. Reed said, jumping out of his chair. “You fucking with me, right?”

  “No, I’m not messing with you.”

  “This has to be a mistake.”

  “That’s what Principal Baker said, until he checked the test himself.”

  The nineteen year old held up his paper for everyone to see the big 100 at the top of his paper, in red ink, and with a personal congratulation from Mr. Baker. Everyone in the class stood up and clapped.

  Saint curled and uncurled his toes in his shoes, willing the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes not to fall. He batted them away as Mr. Reed shook his hand and gave him a bear hug.

  “All right, let’s settle down for a moment,” Saint said, looking at his watch. “I have to leave early, today. This test that you took is way harder than the GED. The test you took was taken from first year, college text books.”

  “You serious?” Miss Clark asked.

>   “Trust me; I made the test up myself. So y’all know what that means, right?”

  “That means I’m going to pass that GED with flying colors,” Mr. Reed said.

  “No, that means all of you are going to pass that GED with flying colors. I’m putting all of you in for the test. It’s going to be in two weeks. Saint looked at his watch again.”

  “You must have a hot date, Mr. Andrews,” Mr. Reed said.

  “Yeah, I got a date with my barber.”

  Saint pulled up to his apartment. He was unbuttoning his white shirt and unbuckling his khakis as he put his key into the front door. He had ten minutes to change from math teacher to corporate accountant. His suit, tie, shoes and briefcase were already laid out on the bed. His house phone rang.

  “Glenn I’m on my way.”

  “I’m about to have a nervous breakdown. I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”

  Saint was taken off guard, hearing Olivia’s voice. Only two people had his home number. “I’ll be there before they show up. Don’t worry. Put Glenn on the phone.” Saint could hear her handing the phone to him.

  “Clayton—”

  “Glenn I’m going to kill you.”

  “Whoa, I didn’t give her your home number. I dialed it on my cell and then handed it to her.”

  “I can’t talk, now. I got to finish getting dressed. I’ll be there in a few.”

  “What if Claude and the rest of them get here before you do?”

  Saint looked at the cheap Timex on his wrist. “It’s only a quarter to twelve. Claude is going to want to show up in the middle of the afternoon, between one and two, when the streets are the most crowded.”

  “Has to make a grand entrance, huh?”

  “Don’t hate on him. You’ll be doing the same thing soon.”

  “Fuck you, Saint.”

  “I love you, too.” Saint hung up and took off the Timex and threw it on the pile of math teacher clothes. He grabbed his Omega Speedmaster off the dresser along with his Giorgio Armani prescription glasses. He looked at himself in the mirror. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

  “This is the most excitement we had in a long time.”

  “Well don’t get used to it. After today, it’s over.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Glenn is talking marriage; you’re going to end it with Olivia before y’all even get a chance to get started. Damn, Saint you’re going to go back to being alone.”

  “I won’t be alone. I got you to talk to.”

  “Talking to yourself doesn’t count.”

  “Then I’ll get a plant.”

  “People will think you’re crazy if they see you talking to a plant.”

  “Can’t be any crazier than talking to myself in the mirror.”

  “You got a point there.”

  Saint arrived in downtown Manhattan at twelve-thirty. As soon as he turned off Madison, he saw it. He was impressed. Butta Cutz didn’t match the picture he had of it in his head. He saw a couple reporters milling around the salon, waiting for the man of the hour to arrive. He drove by and parked a block down. He grabbed his briefcase and headed up the block. As he got a couple feet away from the salon, his cell vibrated. “Hello.”

  “Where are you?” Olivia asked.

  “I’m walking through the door, right now.”

  Olivia whipped her head to the front door. If Saint didn’t have the phone to his ear, she wouldn’t have recognized him. It was amazing how something as insignificant as a pair of glasses and a briefcase could change the appearance of a person. Miki was on him like a cheap suit.

  “You are definitely not a news reporter,” she said, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “No, he’s not,” Olivia said, walking up on the conversation. “Mr. Andrews, I need to see you in my office.”

  “Yes, Miss Martin.” Saint adjusted his glasses and followed Olivia to the back. The way Olivia addressed him had turned him on. She was strictly professional. He was now seeing another side of her. The side that was running a million dollar business. She was wearing a pair of black slacks, a black turtle neck and a pair of open-toed shoes. She walked into her office and held the door for him.

  Saint walked in. A quick glance, told him Olivia definitely had an eye for decorating. She closed the door. Before Saint had a chance to put his briefcase down, Olivia walked into his arms and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Miss Martin—”

  “Oh shut up, Clayton and just hold me.”

  “Everything’s going to be fine, Olivia.”

  She looked up at him. “I didn’t’ know you wore prescription glasses. You look good in them, in a Clarke Kent kind of way.”

  “Are you calling me your Superman?”

  Olivia pushed him away from her. She walked around her desk and sat down. Saint put his briefcase down, walked around her desk, and stood behind her chair. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Olivia had a flashback and started to stand up, but Saint held her down.

  “Girl, you are so tense. I won’t put you to sleep this time. I promise.”

  Olivia stopped moving and let Saint do his thing. She felt the stress quickly leaving her shoulders. His fingertips didn’t tickle her soul the way they did the other night, but they still brought a smile to her face. Her intercom chirped.

  “Olivia, Jon-Jon is here,” Miki said.

  “Tell him I’m too busy to mess with him today.”

  “He’s jumping down my throat about you interviewing a Lynise Rogers for a job.”

  “Oh, God,” Olivia sighed.

  “I’ll be outside waiting on Marion Claude,” Saint said.

  “We will continue this at a later time.”

  Saint didn’t respond. He just picked up his briefcase and walked out.

  “Miki, send my brother in.”

  A few minutes later, Jon-Jon walked in with his college girlfriend. Olivia was impressed. She looked to be twenty-four, twenty-five, slim and sophisticated looking. She was rocking a pair of army fatigued boy shorts, showcasing her long legs and a matching vest. But what caught Olivia’s attention were her shoes. Olivia was a shoe connoisseur. Lynise had on a pair of El Dantes.

  “Sis, this is Lynise.”

  Olivia stood up to shake her hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Miss Martin,” Lynise said with an accent Olivia couldn’t quite place.

  “What you got going on today, sis? You got reporters, and everything out there. You got Puffy coming down? Oh shit that’s what I’m talking about, yeah.”

  “Calm down, Jon-Jon. Puffy isn’t coming here. I got some people from overseas coming.”

  “They got it going on like Puffy?”

  “Listen, I’m kind of busy right now—”

  “C’mon, sis, Lynise took off from school to come down here. Don’t hit me with the come-back-tomorrow line. You don’t even have to interview her. You’re just going through the motions anyway, right? She can start right now. It looks like you’re going to need all the help you can get today.”

  Olivia leaned back in her chair. “Did you bring your resume?”

  “Ah—”

  “Here’s her resume,” Jon-Jon said, pointing to his braids. Lynise had braided his hair in the fashion of a spider web.

  “A lot of the work I did was under the table,” she said.

  “Well, everything here is done above the table.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m dying to get a real paycheck.”

  “Okay you braid hair, what else?”

  “I do manicures, pedicures, weaves, fusions—”

  “We don’t do weaves and fusions here.” Olivia pressed the button on her intercom. “Miki, send Baby in here.”

  Baby knocked on the door a minute later and stuck her head in. What’s up, boss?”

  “This is Lynise. We’re going to be extremely busy today, and she needs a job, so, I’m going to give her a try.
”

  “On a day like today?” Baby asked.

  “Yes, today.”

  “Whatever you say, ma.”

  “Thank you Miss Martin,” Lynise said.

  “Call me Olivia.”

  “C’mon,” Baby said to Lynise. “I’ll show you around, introduce you to the rest of the team, and then show you my station.”

  Jon-Jon hugged Olivia. “I love you, sis.”

  “I need you to be on your best behavior today.”

  “C’mon, this is me you talking to,” Jon-Jon said, beating his chest.

  “David, Mike, and Shawn said they’re going to stop by later on.”

  “They the ones you need to be telling to be on their best behavior. Especially, Mike. He thinks he’s the shit now, because he got a license to walk around with a gun.”

  “Work with me, Jon-Jon.”

  “I got you, sis. Don’t even worry about it.”

  “Now, if you don’t mind, I got to finish meeting with Clayton.”

  “The dude that left the office when we came in?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s the accountant?”

  “Not today, Jon-Jon.”

  “Sis, I’m on my best behavior.” He opened the door and looked both ways. He saw Saint talking with Glenn and made eye contact with him. He called him over. As Saint walked into the office, Jon-Jon closed the door.

  “What’s up, duke?”

  “Hi,”

  “You seeing my sister?”

  “Jon-Jon—” Olivia started.

  Jon-Jon held his hand up for her not to interrupt him. “I think you need to ask your sister that.”

  “I’m asking you, duke.” Saint didn’t respond.

  Jon-Jon looked him up and down. “You got a business card or something?”

  “I don’t use business cards.”

  “So, how can people get in touch with you?”

  “My clients know how to get in touch with me.”

  “What about a person who’s not one of your clients?”

  “Then we don’t have anything to talk about.”

  “You sure you ain’t a lawyer, ‘cause you got a slick mouth.”

  “Jon-Jon!!” Olivia started walking toward him.

  “All right, all right, I’m out of here,” he said, opening the door and letting himself out.

  Saint folded his arms. “I like him already.”