by DL White
"It was a good day, ladies," I called out as I began to pull the day's receipts.
"I wish it was like this every day," said Tamera, gliding a dust mop down the center of the room. She made a pass, then turned and made another one. Flyaway hair that sometimes missed the broom began to gather in a pile, ready to be scooped up and tossed away.
"I know," I mused, adding up the day's take, my calculator making a loud clicking sound as my fingers flew over the keys. "I've been trying to advertise on Facebook and Twitter, but hell if I know what I'm doing on there."
Evonne snorted, turning away from her station where she was untangling curling iron cords. "Healy Beauty said this was the only shop in Potter Lake. If that's so, where are the younger people getting their hair done? I'm so tired of doing press and curls, I could cry."
"Curl & Dye used to be the only shop in town," explained Tamera. "Until Guys N' Dolls opened up. Like Leslie said, people like cheap. I guess they don't care how it looks."
"Guys N' Dolls is a flash in the pan. You walk in there and take a number and sit. And wait. Guys get a ugly cheap ass haircut, and Lord knows what's happening on the Dolls side of that shop. Ladies around here can't afford to look like just anything. You wait— " I said, shaking my finger at them all. "Somebody from Guys N' Dolls will give someone orange hair, or mess up a cut, or leave a texturizer in too long and their hair will fall out. They'll be back to Curl & Dye, pretending they never left."
"I hope you're right," mused Tamera.
"I don't," muttered Gisela, sucking her teeth and tucking away her mobile phone. "Once my apprenticeship is up, I'm going over there to get a job. This place blows."
I glared at Gisela, willing myself to keep my response civil. She'd been riding my last nerve since her first day. She had a few weeks until her apprenticeship was over and I was counting down the days.
"Oh really?" Tamera, who often said what I was thinking, sauntered toward Gisela's station. "If this place blows so much, why not pack up your shit and head over there right now?"
"Because... I...have to finish here first."
Tamera shrugged, stepping closer. Gisela took a minuscule step backward, but it was a step nonetheless. Her face had reddened and her eyes widened. "You seem like you're a girl with a lot of options. You got so much shit to say about where you're getting a job after you leave here. Just go now, since you're going."
"I... can't..." She stepped backward again, bumping into the cart where she stored her materials.
"That's right. You can't. So if I was depending on a favorable review from the owner of this place to get my license, I would shut my trap about how I'm going right to our competition when I'm finished here."
"I'm not obligated to love it here," Gisela shot back.
"And we're not obligated to keep you here," said Tamera, speaking slowly, enunciating each word. "I don't care that you've finished your coursework. You get no signature on your final papers, you get no license. And if it was up to me, you would be walking out of this shop for good tonight."
Gisela shot a desperate glance in my direction. I shrugged, then went back to my bank deposit slip. Tamera wasn't being completely truthful, but like I said, that girl had been getting on my nerves for months.
"So, once again, if you just do your job, you'll finish out here just fine. But if you've got more to say on the subject, we can discuss throwing your shit into the street and you going along your merry way."
"Tam." My tone told her everything I didn't need to verbalize. She backed away from Gisela, her eyes still shooting daggers.
"I'm tired of her, Leslie. Tired as hell."
"Take five. Go get some air. Okay?"
She slammed the salon door open so hard, it bounced against the brick wall behind and stormed out. I watched her pace the parking lot for a few moments before my gaze returned to Evonne and Gisela. Both were quiet and busy at their stations.
I finished the deposit, then rolled the chair away from the desk, grabbed two bottles of water and stepped outside.
Tamera sat on the curb in front of the shop, squinting into the waning sunlight. In the distance, the lake sparkled as the sun sank below its banks, throwing shadows off of the half-constructed buildings on the other side. I shook my head, as I almost always did. A perfectly wonderful view, ruined by greed and commerce.
"You know that was out of line, right?" I plopped down next to her with my bottle of water and handed her one. She took it and screwed the cap off. Her mouth was still set in a terse line.
"She's got a lot of nerve. We're in there talking about how the Curl & Dye is losing business and she opens her mouth about where she's going when she's done with her apprenticeship."
"She's not obligated to stay, Tam. Neither of them are. It's a short term gig and after she and Evonne leave, we'll get two more."
"It's not just that. I don't even want her to stay. She wants to leave, good riddance. But I hate how she rolls up here every day in her new car and new clothes, complaining about every blessed thing, as spoiled as week old milk sitting out on the counter. Some of us have more than clothes to pay for. My photography business isn’t anywhere near off the ground. If we close..."
She shook her head, unwilling to finish her sentence. I wasn't willing to finish it either, out loud or in my head.
"I'm doing what I can, but no amount of specials and discounts is bringing our walk-in rate to where it used to be and people are starting to not show up for standing appointments."
"Got to be something we can do," she muttered, her head dropping to rest on her knees. "Grandy would be devastated if she knew this place was closing."
"I'm a little happy she can't know." Since her stroke, Grandy's health had been declining. Recently, Mama had to put her in a home so could get better care. "For that matter, Mama won't be too pleased, either."
"Oh Lord," she groaned. "I can see Auntie Lee's big lips forming the words I told you so from a mile away."
I laughed, even though Tamera was talking about my mama. Our mothers were best friends and Tamera and I grew up as close as sisters. Gina always had a pot of something on the stove and a pitcher of something to fix what ailed you.
That's what I loved about Potter Lake— the small town mentality. How we cared for each other. All of that would be lost if we let Mayor Adams turn Potter Lake into the next Healy. We liked Healy right where it was. Twenty miles away.
I stretched and yawned, then pushed myself up from the sidewalk. "I say we call it an early night How about you?"
"Hear, hear. You wanna get a drink? I'm in a mood and I need something to set it right."
Chapter Two
KC
* * *
"Hey, KC. What's good, man?"
"Yo, KC! Good to see you."
I strolled through my shop, a co-ed salon in a growing area of this little place called Potter Lake. I liked the view from the center aisle between two rows of red leather chairs with sterling silver pumps. Every seat was taken, every barber standing behind a client, the buzz of clippers joining the strains of hip hop streaming via satellite radio. On three different flat screen TV's, Sports Center was tuned in, but on mute. We only turned the sound on when we watched a game.
"KC! You up for a lil' hoop action tonight?"
I'd almost reached my office at the back of the shop when Kendrick, my head barber, hit me with an offer I couldn't refuse. I was a fiend for basketball and played every chance I got, especially on the league we'd set up last year. I couldn't play pro ball anymore, but that didn't mean I didn't still love the game. And it didn't mean I couldn't wipe the court with a few of my employees from time to time.
"Who's playing?"
I stopped at Kendrick's chair to talk and to inspect the cut he was giving. It looked to be the standard $8 deal. No frills, no gimmicks, no extra time. In the chair, out of the chair. I was trying to get it through the thick heads of the other barbers that we made less money when they agreed to do specialty cuts. They took more tim
e and time was money. And since I'd been without that pro ball paycheck for a while, I was eager to be in the money.
Kendrick named off a few players, fellas I'd played with before. Some from the league, some we knew from around town.
"Are we playing street ball or rec center ball?"
"The only kind of ball there is, man. Street. They're holding that fish fry fundraiser at the park across the street from the house, so we figured a lot of guys will be around and we can get a good game going. Unless that knee has you tapping out."
I gave him my get outta here look, the twisted lip and the side eye, before I held out my palm and waited for him to smack, then grip it.
"I have my brace in my gym bag. See y'all at the court around seven?"
"Bet. Come hungry. Monica is making chicken wings."
My eyes narrowed as I sucked in a deep breath. "The honey barbecue ones?"
"The honey barbecue, the Sriracha, the Thai curry lime— "
My mouth watered at the mention of Thai curry lime. Sometimes Kendrick's wife got in a mood and made a batch of different flavored wings. After a sweaty game of basketball at the park courts, I'd cross the street and eat myself sick.
"I need to go wherever you met her. Monica puts a hurtin' on some chicken wings."
Kendrick chuckled, flipping off the clippers and brushing wayward hairs from his client's neck before whipping the apron away. "College, dear brother. That's where I met that sister."
I stepped away from Kendrick's chair and resumed the trek to my office. "Oh, yeah. That’s right.” Kendrick had been my college roommate the year I dropped out and went pro. He met Monica the next year. “No thanks. I left the classroom behind years ago, man."
"I'm just saying... sometimes you gain more than knowledge when you sit in a classroom."
I heard Kendrick, but I wasn't really hearing him. It wasn't like I was against college. I stayed on the Dean's List at Healy University but I was there to play ball, so when it came down to a choice of being the star player on a small town University team and vying for a coveted internship at IBM and entering the NBA draft... I chose ball. Much to the disappointment of a few people in my life, but the money helped my family and being in the NBA gave me a life I could have only dreamt of.
I made it to my office and unlocked the door, dumping the handful of mail I'd picked up from the front desk on top of the stack that seemed to be growing by the day. I knew what they all said without even opening them: DELINQUENT. THIRD NOTICE. IMPORTANT. I was ignoring them for the moment.
I dropped into the chair behind my desk and pushed the stack of unopened mail further away. Kendrick had run the register receipts a little while ago, and my lips pursed as I stared at them. We were running customers through Guys N' Dolls as fast as possible and still not hitting the numbers I wanted to hit. I'd sunk a chunk of my savings into the business and they weren't being replenished to my liking.
A soft knock sounded at the office door before it swung open and my twin sister, Teresa, walked in. TC got all of the personality. I got all of the height. I tended to withdraw unless I was on the court. Teresa was vivacious and outgoing, which made her role as Manager fitting for her. I belonged back in the office, crunching numbers.
"'Sup, TC.”
"Not too much," she chirped, eyeing the stack of mail and then sliding the gold-flecked brown eyes that were identical to mine in my direction. "I was over at the fundraiser; brought back some plates for the guys." She gestured toward the stack of mail on the desk. "So you're building the Leaning Tower of Late Notices?"
I slouched in the chair. It squeaked its argument as I tipped it back and glared in her direction. "Man, T... don't start."
"Guys N' Dolls is going to finish before it even gets started if you don't open up some of these bills and pay them. Some of them say final notice, KC."
She rifled through the stack, which got on my nerves, so I smacked her hand away. She popped me upside my head.
"Ow!" I grimaced, rubbing the tender spot where she'd hit me. "Bully."
"I didn't hurt that big head."
"I'm not in the mood, TC. What do you want?"
"The utilities man was here today. He was about to shut us down, but I talked him into waiting a day. I said I could talk to you tonight and get him a payment. You owe a grip and you've got twenty-four hours to pay it. You're being ridiculous, KC. I know the money is in the bank."
"Yeah, it's in the bank. I want it to stay in the bank."
TC rolled her eyes and folded her arms over the vibrant Guys N' Dolls logo on her chest. "It's real dumb to not pay bills. You're still waiting on money from Mayor Adams?"
"He said it was coming— "
The scowl TC gave me could scare a criminal. "And in the meantime, your shop is going to shit. Don't lose this place because you're trying to depend on some man's word."
I exhaled, puffing my cheeks out and blowing paper across the desk. "I'll pay the bill tonight. Alright?" I stared at her until she shrugged.
"On your word?"
"On my word. And I'll open up the rest of these and see what we're looking at."
"Have you talked to Mayor Adams about the money?"
"Every chance I get."
"And what does he say?"
"Same thing he always says," I answered, scrubbing my face with the palm of one hand. I smoothed down my goatee by habit, then slipped my hand behind my neck and squeezed the base of my skull. I felt a headache coming on. That wouldn't stop me from playing ball but it would make for a miserable game. "I'll try him again. What are you about to get into?"
"Heading over to the park to watch your fine ass friends play ball and eat some of Monica's wings. See you later?" She held out her fist and I bumped it, after which she turned to leave, grabbing the knob to pull the door closed.
Before she left, though, she stuck her head back in. "Utilities, KC. I'm serious."
I grabbed a pad of post-it notes, threatening to throw it at her. "I said, on my word. I got this.”
The game was rough, but it was just what I needed to round out a long week. Two teams of four guys playing basketball in the haze of the setting sun on faded blacktop was like therapy to me. I pushed myself from one end of the court to the other, as hard as I could push without putting my knee out. Dripping with sweat and breathing like I'd run a marathon, I gracefully accepted the game ending handshake from Kendrick, captain of the opposing team.
"And now," Kendrick announced, both fists raised in the air. "Wings! My house! Bring your girl, bring a friend, and do me the courtesy of bringing the beer."
I sat down on the bench alongside the court and released the adhesive straps to my knee brace. I stuffed it inside my gym bag and stood, swinging my arms and arching my neck from side to side to stretch out. My shoulders were tight, but it wasn't from the game. I'd logged into the utilities company website before leaving for the game and made an electronic payment.
TC was right. The money was there, right in the bank and plenty of it. But I wasn't supposed to have to pay the bills that were piling up. At least not with my own money, and the fact that I was laying out much more than Mayor Adams had told me I'd have to put up was about to give me an ulcer.
I dropped my gym bag in the truck and slipped my keys into my pocket, then wound through thinning park crowd toward Kendrick's house. The porch was littered with people, from the vintage swing to the kitchen chairs dragged out to the front steps. Others leaned against the railing that lined the porch, cold beers in hand and trash talking already in full force.
"What up, KC?"
"Brought your A-game tonight, man."
I stopped to slap at a few palms before pulling the screen door open and stepping inside the house. Kendrick and Monica's place was comfortable and familiar, an upgrade from the cramped apartment they'd lived in since they graduated from Healy U. It felt lived-in even though they'd only moved in a year ago. I spent a lot of time at their house, sat at their kitchen table plenty of Sundays. And I neve
r missed wing night.
I stepped through the living room and waved at Jeremy, their six year old, and his friends who were more interested in video games than they were in me. There was a time when a room full of kids would swarm, asking for autographs and tickets to ball games. Sometimes I really missed those days.
The smells in the house reminded me that I hadn't eaten since the hard, dry chicken sandwich I'd grabbed from Chicken Hut, one of the new restaurants in the strip mall near the shop.
"KC!" Monica's face brightened like it always did when I stepped into her kitchen. I bent to hug her, wrapping my arms around her expanding waist.
"How much longer do you have to let little girl cook in there?"
She laughed, her hands roving her round belly. "I can tell you've never known anyone who's been pregnant before. We've got some time yet."
I shrugged. "My experience with the ladies pretty much ends at practicing making babies."
She gave me a pat on the arm before returning to tossing chicken wings in her famous chili lime sauce. Once the wings were glossy, she poured them into a foil lined pan and slid the pan under the broiler.
"A few minutes and those will be done. I know they're the ones you're waiting on." She tucked a hand into the crook of my arm and led me toward the bar stools lined up at the island at the edge of the kitchen. "Kendrick says the shop is doing really well. Getting more business every day, especially women."
I nodded, clasping my hands together, trying to keep the expression on my face blank and nonchalant. From Kendrick's point of view, the shop was doing well. From mine... I needed to have another conversation with Mayor Adams. "Yeah, the shop is doing okay. I need some more female stylists, though. People get restless and start leaving if they have to wait too long. I only have two girls that can work with chemicals."
"You should talk to my neighbor's daughter. She works at a little salon on the other side of the lake."
