by DL White
"There's still places open over there?"
A sizzle from the broiler caught Monica's attention. She slid off of the stool and headed toward the oven. "Every week I run my granny over to that old grocery store. It's like the senior center reunion up in there. What's the name of it? Pinky's? Pinkney's? Whatever. May as well be the Piggly Wiggly."
"Mayor Adams said he was selling off the land and putting new businesses over there, too. He didn't say anything about shops still being open."
A few years ago I'd been languishing in Kendrick's guest bedroom, trying to decide what I was going to do with the rest of my life. I'd been a member of a professional basketball team, a well-known player. It wasn't like I could go out and "just get a job" like my parents kept advising me. What kind of job did they think I could get with a busted knee and no degree?
I let Kendrick and a few others drag me to a seminar about opening up a business in a nearby town even smaller than the college town of Healy, Georgia. Mayor Adams gave a pretty speech about land that was available for development in Potter Lake, promising incentives to those willing to invest. I was lured in by the temptation of not having to pay operating expenses for at least the first year.
After Guys N' Dolls opened, the excuses began to roll in and the promises from his wide, stark white smile were broken. More than a year later, the money I was promised was still "coming".
“If that's true, then that little salon is probably in its last days," said Monica. "You should talk to her, see if she's found a spot to jump to."
"There's a beauty school over in Healy. I could grab some graduates from there."
Monica grimaced over her shoulder as she opened the broiler drawer. "I don't know about a beauty school graduate putting chemicals on my hair. The ink won't even be dry on the license."
"Let me get that," I said, sliding off the chair. I grabbed a couple of oven mitts and bumped her out of the way. She let me pull the pan out of the oven and set it on top of the stove. I basked in the pungent mix of sweet and heat as I pulled the mitts off.
"I know you're gunning to be first, so..." She reached toward a stack of thick paper plates, perfect for wing nights. "Go for it."
An hour later, I tossed the last drumstick bone onto the pile on my plate and sighed into the night air. I was fat and happy, very content and a little drunk. Behind me, the screen door squeaked open. I turned my head to see Monica sauntering out of the house, followed by two women, with a Cheshire cat grin spread across her lips. I inwardly groaned, knowing at first glance that this would be the last time I'd be happy for a while.
She eased herself down onto the step next to me. The two women that had followed her out of the house chose to stand. Both were short from where I sat, but then again, when you stood 6’ 4”, everyone was short. One wore her hair in long locs that spilled down her back; the other had a short cut like TC.
"This is my neighbor's daughter and her friend. I happened to look up while I was washing the dishes and I saw them walking over from the park. This is Tamera and Leslie. Ladies, this is KC.”
"I uh..." I cleared my throat, nodding at both ladies. "We ... uh — ”
"What KC is trying to say is that we're old friends," snapped Leslie, flinging her locs over one shoulder. She always did that hair flip thing when she was good and mad. “And I use the word friend very loosely.”
I swallowed, hard. Then swallowed again.
I hadn't expected to see Leslie again. Not here in this town, and not in this lifetime. It had been at least fifteen years since she stormed out of my dorm room after I'd broken the news that I was dropping out of Healy and going for the NBA draft. I’d tried to talk to her before I left school and I sent her a few letters while I was on the road. My calls went unanswered and all my letters were returned, unopened. I took the hint and stopped reaching out and I was pretty sure that I'd never seen her again.
Leslie had changed, but in a lot of ways, she was the same girl I remembered— iconic long hair, except in locs now; creamy brown skin, big doe eyes, full juicy lips.
I remembered those lips.
With her hand on the generous curve of one hip and one leg kicked out, I had full view of her open toed sandals and fiery red pedicure. She wore a pair of leggings and a fitted tee shirt. Cute and casual, like she wasn't dressed to impress anyone but herself. She was always so casually sexy.
I liked that back then. Actually, I liked it a lot now.
"What's up Les?" I gestured at her, showing my sauce covered hands. "I'd give you a hug, but I dug in and I'm a mess."
I pointed to the other girl, the short-haired one with the matching frown. "Tam... it's been awhile. Good to see you."
"Cut the shit, KC," Tam spit at me. She propped a hand on one hip and gave me the up-and-down with an evil eye.
"Whatever, Tamera." Tam and I were never good friends. The few times I hung out with her and Leslie, we butted heads all night long. She didn’t think Leslie should be spending so much time with me and made her opinion known often. Her attitude toward me wasn't surprising. It was just... old. "So... what are y'all doing here?"
"Your neighbor was kind enough to tell us about how our shop was closing down and asked if we'd like to meet the owner of Guys N' Dolls and see if we could get jobs there." Leslie's lips pursed into a tight little bow.
"Oh. Okay. Yeah, the Mayor said everything was pretty much dried up on that side of the lake. I didn't know...that uh...."
I coughed, trying to give myself a minute to breathe. "So you took over your mom's shop?" I asked Leslie, then directed my attention to Tamera, who was still shooting daggers at me. I kind of wanted her to back up a little bit. "And you work there, I guess? How long do y'all think you'll be open? I mean, I guess I'm asking if y'all will be looking for salon positions soon. I need more female— ”
"Leslie's Curl & Dye is not closing any time soon, KC. Your shop is already stealing my clientele. There's no way you're taking my stylists too."
The realization that I was staring at competition I didn't even know I had I hit me like a ton of bricks. I offered the ladies a wide, friendly grin. "Look, I'm not really trying to put Curls and... whatever out of business— ”
"Leslie's! Curl! And Dye!" Tamera shouted the words out at me, with foot stomps to match. "Memorize the name. Wait a minute, you won't have to, because we are going to be all. up. in. your. business."
The two ladies gave me a dirty look as they left, taking the path around the side of the house instead of walking back through the front door. Monica hid an amused smile behind a faux innocent expression. I handed her my plate and playfully cut my eyes at her.
"You couldn't warn me?"
"How was I supposed to know you knew them? Besides, it was fun to watch you flop around like a fish out of water."
Kendrick joined us on the step and tossed an arm over his wife's shoulder. "Who were those girls?"
"Those women run a beauty salon on the old side of Potter Lake that Guys N' Dolls is apparently putting out of business," Monica offered.
"I'm not putting anybody out of business. I mean, not on purpose."
I shook my head, my brain a complete mess of words, my body vibrating with shock at seeing Leslie again after so long. She meant a lot to me, back in the day. We were close and I knew how hard her mom, Lee, had worked to keep her shop open. I had no idea that opening my shop put hers in jeopardy. But I was already open... what was I supposed to do?
"We get you, man," said Kendrick, laying a heavy hand on my shoulder. "You're just trying to have a shop open. But now that you know about your competition, you have to step up your game."
"What? Why?"
"Because they know about you. And if they think you want their business they'll do anything to keep it. This might mean war, man."
I heaved a long, heavy sigh. I wasn't in the mood for war.
Chapter Three
Leslie
* * *
"What was that about?" I hissed at Tamera as we made o
ur way through freshly cut grass.
She reached the gate separating her mother's house from the neighbor's house and lifted the lever to swing it open. After I walked through, she followed and dropped the lever in place, locking the gate behind us.
"What was what about?"
"All of that all up in your business noise. You made it sound like we were going to send the mob through there or something."
"Humph," she huffed, leading me to a glass topped wrought iron patio table and pulling out two chairs. "Maybe we should. Would serve him right."
"Like we even know anybody like that. Closest thing Potter Lake has to a mob is Zeke Simmons and his friends. We could send him over there to sell some bad bootleg movies."
Tamera sucked her teeth and folded her arms across her chest. "He pissed me off. Uh, when y'all think y'all shop will close and y'all can come work for me?" She mocked, imitating his very slight Texas drawl. "Smiling all wide and friendly like there's not a shop that could use the business he's taking away."
"He said he wasn't trying to take our business. He was just open."
"Leslie..." Tamera rolled her head in my direction and leveled a glare at me. “Last night you were boohooing with me about Guys N' Dolls and now you're defending him?"
"I'm not defending him. I'm just saying— ”
"Oh, girl don’t even start lying. You've been avoiding KC since we heard he moved back here and now we see why. One look at that big hunk of man, one listen to that... that fake humble southern drawl and you folded. Like you always used to do around him."
"Folded? How did I fold? I told him my shop wasn't going anywhere."
"Which should have been said to him a long time ago. Like when he first opened, but nope. You refused to go over there and set him straight. All I'm saying is, don't let all that dust and those cobwebs—”
"Tamera Louise, do not go there. We can talk about your cobwebs too."
That made her laugh, which made me laugh. Of the two of us, she was always more emotional and I always had to calm her down. It wasn't like she was wrong, though.
The NBA had been good to KC. I was trying hard not to be affected by it but I wasn't blind. He was always muscular, even back in college. Now he seemed taller, if it were possible. Solid and stocky, thick arms and legs, wide shoulders, smooth skin like whipped chocolate, soulful brown eyes with gold flecks… and I never pictured myself as the kind of girl who was draw to a tattooed man but when I wasn’t yelling at him about taking my business, I was admiring the artwork that was his sleeve tats. He'd grown a goatee that framed his full lips nicely and had a nice head of jet black hair that needed a line-up.
Handsome wasn't even the word for it, if I was being honest. A big, chocolate, sexy motherfucker built like a locomotive fit the bill much better.
But no matter how dusty my situation, I wasn't on the market. Especially not for KC.
"I'm not letting cobwebs make my decisions,” I said, picking up my end of the argument. “I’m stating facts and trying to keep a level head between us. You can't go around threatening people, Tam."
She mumbled something that sounded a lot like I know, but she never liked to admit that I was right so I didn't want to take my chances in asking her to repeat it. "Well, what are we going to do? He seems to think Curl & Dye is closing and if I have anything to say about it, he's dead wrong."
I reached across the few inches of space between us and rubbed her forearm. "I know you're worried, but we're not down and out yet. We'll think of something."
"You girls want some lemonade?"
Gina stepped out of the house onto the patio with a pitcher and three glasses, wearing what we called her Weekend Frock. It was an old weathered house dress, dark blue and covered in bold flower print. Tam and I hated that thing but she pulled it out every week. She said it was her relaxing dress and after a long week at Primrose, she needed to relax.
"Is it regular lemonade or good lemonade?"
She set the pitcher down on the table, then began to fill a glass to the rim. "All my lemonade is good lemonade. But it's Saturday night, it's cool enough to sit outside and I've got my relaxing dress on. What y'all think?"
"Sounds like the good stuff."
Gratefully, I took a glass from her and sipped a bit off the top. Her vodka lemonade would definitely take the edge off. She poured another glass and handed it to Tamera before pouring one for herself and taking the seat next to me.
The evening air was full of the sounds of a southern summer— crickets chirping, cicadas singing, leaves rustling in the rare breeze that blew through the spacious backyard. We sat in silence, admiring the nice atmosphere, sipping our drinks.
Gina and Tam used to live a few houses down from us, but she had taken advantage of a builder's incentive to buy a home on the “new” side of Potter Lake. I hated to admit it but her townhouse was nice. Brand new build, appliances included, front and back yard and two car garage. If I wasn't so vehemently opposed to how Mayor Adams was systematically shutting down old Potter Lake, I would have moved over a long time ago.
"I thought you two got invited next door? I saw that nice young lady come out and say something over the fence, then the next time I looked through the kitchen window, y'all was gone."
"We did," I volunteered before Tamera could get started. "Turns out her husband works for the guy that owns the family salon in the new strip mall. Potter Lake Commons, they're calling it."
"Oh, how fancy,” she quipped, her eyes rolling skyward while sipping her lemonade. “Used to be a field of overgrown weeds."
"Anyway, he claims he wasn't aware that we were still open. He tried to give us jobs in his salon."
Gina laughed. "I can only imagine how that went."
"I told him where he could stick his job," said Tamera. She glared at the house next door through the bushes and formed devil horns with her fingers, pointing them at the house like she was putting a hex on it.
I rolled my eyes and sipped my lemonade. "How was Grandy today, G?"
"No change. I still read the front page of the newspaper to her every morning. You know how she likes her news stories."
Grandy was a news junkie. She would read the Potter Lake Times front to back every day and the Lake Chatter, a little rag that was mostly gossip and came out every Saturday. When the internet became a big thing, you could find her at the desk early in the morning reading the newspapers that she didn't have delivered-- Atlanta Journal Constitution, New York Post, and the Business Chronicle. When she wasn't reading the news, she was watching it. She watched CNN like it was a soap opera. She had her favorite newscasters and everything.
"Have you been to see her lately?"
"Last weekend," I answered with a nod. "I'll be by there tomorrow. Mama usually goes on Saturdays."
"Good. Good." Gina sighed, staring into her glass. "Get your time in. She knows you're there."
"We will." I paused a beat to let the somber moment pass, and then asked, "So we worked all day and missed most of the good stuff at the fundraiser. Did you make anything for dinner?"
Chapter Four
KC
* * *
I limped down the center aisle of the shop, smiling and nodding as best I could as I made my way. I'd tried to rest my knee all day, but I'd played that game like I was back on the Herons and all of that effort had taken its toll. Usually I could get away with only wearing the brace when I played, but since I could just barely get out of bed, I was wearing it all day.
"Ay, KC. I didn't mess you up or nothin', did I?" Erik was in the middle of a cut but flipped his clippers to the 'off' position as I passed his chair. "You're favoring kinda heavy on your other leg."
"Man, you wish your weak skills did this to me."
"I'm just trying to check in on you, seeing as how you're my boss, but if we're going there— "
"Watch it, E," piped up Kendrick from behind his chair. "First off, I'm your boss. KC is my boss. And secondly, my boss, Mr. NBA, doesn't like for folks t
o make notes on his game. Even that weak free throw about halfway through."
"The one that was all air? I know which one you're talking about."
I laughed off the usual ribbing I took when my team won. Kendrick's team was full of sore losers. The swollen and painful knee was well worth the hash mark in the win column.
"I've got a busted knee and my team still beat y'all. How does that happen?" I shook my head and continued my trek to my office.
"Yeah, it was a good game or whatever, but the real show was after the game."
I stopped and turned, giving Erik a mental message to shut up, but he didn't catch it.
"After the game? What happened?" Asked another nosy ass barber.
"Two women showed up and had some words with KC. Did you see that one girl, the fine one with short hair? She put her hand on her hip and she was like... what she say? Something..."
"She said she'd be all up in his business," volunteered somebody at the front of the shop.
"Yeah, that’s the one." Erik smiled. Gripping his clippers and a comb, he returned to edging the back of his client's head. "I'd like to be all up in her business."
"Hey, watch your mouth," I said, pointing at Erik. "Don't worry about those women. It's just a thing with another shop. Y’all get back to work. We've got customers to serve."
I heard the gossip continue, just in more hushed tones behind my back as I approached my office. I needed to sit down, give my knee a break. And get away from this talk about Leslie from Curl & Dye.
I'd looked them up when I got home, trying to get a feel for what was going on over there, how close they might be to closing up shop. By the looks of their online presence, they were already dead in the water. There was nothing to the Facebook profile. The cover photo was a snap of the front of the shop, a plain looking store front with peeling lettering on single pane glass windows that spelled out CURL & DYE. From time to time, a coupon deal on a cut or a service was posted, but for the most part, the page looked empty. Unused.
