by DL White
The TV popped off with a snap of Tamera’s wrist. She set the remote down on the table and twisted her body toward mine, tucking her feet up under her. She fortified herself with another sip of wine and said, “Tell me about it. You left the shop before I even came in today.”
“I had two early appointments. Then I had lunch with Pops and Grandy and spent the day with her.”
I filled her in on my afternoon, which was pretty much just talking to myself. No matter how optimistic we tried to be about her condition, the simple truth was that she was no better today than the day we had admitted her, after her stroke. Some days she was just… there. Every day was just talking into the air, hoping she was somewhere in there.
“Honey, I’m sure she knows you’re there. My mama says stroke patients can definitely hear and understand. She might not be able to communicate, but keep up the visits. It’s good for her.”
“I know. But I miss my Grandy. We always had really good talks about everything. And she was funny. Earline wasn’t always the center of attention in this town. I feel like when we lose her, we’ll lose so much.”
“It’s about time for a new generation to come up. Me and you better pop out some babies or we’re going to end up being the Potter Lake Golden Girls.”
Babies. Why did the thought of babies bring KC to mind? I had never imagined having babies with that man and now… itty bitty chocolate replicas were dancing through my head.
I gulped down a huge swallow of wine, trying to rid myself of that vision. Now was not the time for my biological clock to start ticking.
“So, there’s something I need to ask you, Tam. A favor. And I don’t want to hear your arguments about it, because I need you to do it.”
“Why do I have the feeling this involves KC? And if it does, I’m not doing it. Just on general principle.”
“You don’t even know what it is. And he’ll pay you. And I’ll be there. I promise.”
One eyebrow rose, accompanied by a suspicious twist in her lips. “We’re not talking about anything hinky between y’all are we? I don’t go there. At least not for cheap.”
“I need you to do some publicity shots for KC’s campaign.”
“Publicity shots. Where I have to hold a camera and point it at him and look at him through the lens and make him look good?” She shook her head. “I said I would help, but I don’t know about all that, Leslie.”
“You act like looking at him is a burden. Anger and whatever aside, that man is fine.”
“Hella fine,” she agreed, surprisingly. “Don’t mean I want to spend my time taking pictures of him.”
“Did I mention he would pay you? Weren’t you just talking about needing to book some serious projects to get your photography business off the ground?”
Like me, doing hair at the Curl & Dye was never Tamera’s dream. It had just taken her a little longer to realize her life’s desire revolved around capturing captivating images. She’d done a few family shoots, a couple of local weddings, but had been dragging her feet on getting her side business off the ground. Part of it, I felt, was that she didn’t want to abandon me at the salon.
“Leslie, why do you have to use my actual words against me? I’m so tired of you making sense.”
“Because you like to be obstinate and hot headed. I can send him to Healy, or I can get Arletha to shoot some photos. But I told him you were good. And you are. And that he needed to get on your good side by putting money in your pocket.”
“On second thought, don’t you dare send that very rich man over to Healy so they can do some boring, vapid, pro basketball-esque photo shoot. You’ve convinced me with money in my pocket. So when are we doing this?”
“I’m talking him into a couple of good opportunities. Keep your camera with you; you never know when the perfect shot will pop up. And if you need anything before hand, let me know. KC will pay for it.”
“Oh I have a list of things I need beforehand.”
I snorted. “Don’t get greedy.”
“Ugh, you and your scruples. It’s muggy in here,” she whined, fanning herself. “Let’s take our wine outside to the patio.”
A few minutes later we had relocated to the back porch patio with the rest of the bottle of wine, a sleeve of crackers and sausage and cheese slices that Tamera grabbed from the fridge. It was beautiful night— warm, peaceful, nothing but the sounds of cicadas and the bright arcs of light from the fireflies. And you could actually see the stars across the sky. That was one thing I’d missed in Chicago, being able to see the stars.
“Did I tell you I’m doing a session for Monica? A couple of them.” She angled her head to nod toward the house next door. We hadn’t been over there since the day she had invited us over and we’d confronted KC about the salon closing.
“You didn’t! What kind of sessions?”
“A pregnancy shoot, before the baby comes. She wants it to be kind of sexy, like a boudoir set, so that'll be fun to design. And then some newborn shots. Not… fresh newborn. I don’t think I can handle that. But a couple of weeks after the baby is born and it stops looking like a little old man.”
“Tamera, you are so mean!”
“I can’t help it! Babies look like little old men for like... a month.”
“You are not taking pictures of any of my babies.”
“Like I won’t be in the room anyway.”
“Nope. I’ll take them to Healy, to a real photographer.”
“A real— fuck you, Leslie.”
“Back atcha, Tamera.”
We glanced at each other and burst into giggles, then turned up our wine glasses. “You think you'll marry someone from Potter Lake, Les?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t really think about it. I’m just talking.” Really, seriously. Just talking.
And just when I didn’t need his big head to show up, I heard KC’s voice, faint but getting louder as he approached. He and Kendrick were joking with each other on their way back from the park. They couldn’t see us, but I felt like we were eavesdropping.
I stayed quiet, practically holding my breath so he couldn’t hear me breathing, until they stomped up the front porch steps and went into the house. I heaved a sigh, and tossed back the last swallow of wine.
“Hit me,” I ordered, holding out my glass. She poured, giving me about half a glass more. I needed it for this confession I was about to dump on her.
I licked my lips and inhaled a deep, fortifying breath before I blurted, “So...KC kissed me.”
Tamera’s blank stare lasted for a few beats. “Uh….when did this happen?”
“Today. Tonight. Before I came over here.”
“Like… a kiss, kiss? Or just a kiss?”
“Uhm... a kiss, kiss. There was tongue.”
“Oh.” She blinked, seeming confused. “And... that’s why your head is in the clouds and you’re acting dickmatized?”
“Yeah. Probably. Kinda.”
“Okay, then. And you kissed him back?”
“Of course. Who just stands there while they’re being kissed?”
“I mean…” Tamera reached for her wine glass and took a few sips, then asked, “So how, exactly, did his lips end up on you? Did he trip and fall into your face?”
My glass hit the tabletop with a thunk and pushed my chair back from the table. “Okay. You don’t want to talk about it. I’m gonna go.”
“Leslie— okay, I’m sorry.” Tamera grabbed my arm and dug one of her talons into my skin. “Please, please stay. Talk to me.”
“Are you done being a sarcastic bitch?”
She had the nerve to pause before answering, “Mostly. Yes. Talk to me. Why did he kiss you? And how do you feel about it?”
“Well, we were talking. I brought up when we slept together. I said I thought we had a good time together and I thought he did, too. But then he treated me like it was the worst thing to ever happen to him.”
“Okay. And then he said…”
“Do you remember
KC talking about his mom’s illness in Sports Illustrated right after he went pro?”
Tamera shrugged and shook her head. She’d never followed him all that closely. I had to hide that I knew his every move.
“She was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis right when we started our sophomore year. The bills were already piling up by the time he found out. Going pro helped pay her medical bills. Still helps pay her medical bills.”
Her lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as she began to understand. He didn’t withdraw from Healy over sweaty, awkward sex with his good friend Leslie. It really had nothing to do with me.
“When I was leaving, he stopped me and... he kissed me. He said it was an apology for making me think he didn’t like being with me, because he did. And…”
“And? There’s more? Did ya’ll screw in the parking lot?”
I glared at Tamera, nervously rubbing the back of my neck because her question threw my imagination into overdrive and…I really needed to take the edge off.
“He said he wouldn’t mind being with me again.”
Tamera was so quiet, practically speechless for so long that I looked up, just to see if I could tell by her expression where her thought train was running. She was staring at some spot above me, her head tilted to the right. I recognized that head tilt and sighed.
“He….” She began, a finger already in the air. “Kade Cavanaugh, that is, said he wouldn't mind being with you again. And you’re all twisted up about this?”
“I’m not twisted up. It was just was the last thing I expected to hear from him. I’m… I’m a little out of sorts, is all.”
“So… you know I just have to be honest, right?”
I nodded, accepting my fate and halfway regretting even telling her about the kiss.
“You need to think with your brain and not your inner hot in the ass, I have a crush on KC college girl, mkay? He’s a tall, handsome, rich, sexy as fuck, tattooed muhfuckah. Y’all have history and that means it’s so much easier for you to fall for him again. You realize this, right?”
Slowly, I bobbed my head. I did not want to know this, but I did.
“But Leslie, don’t let any part of your brain accept that mediocre bullshit. You are a gorgeous, smart, resourceful, successful entrepreneur who happens to be lit as hell. Many, many men wouldn’t mind having sex with you. Do you care what the hell random men want?”
I shook my head.
“If you’re gonna give him the pussy, make sure it’s because he can’t get the pussy off his mind. Not just because an ex-NBA baller, as fine as that muhfuckah is, wouldn’t mind sleeping with you. You just told me last week that you ain’t no damn Kade Cavanaugh groupie. Don’t act like one.”
I started to argue but I knew she was right. KC was probably delivering the same old lines he was used to delivering, because he was used to them working. And they weren’t going to work on me. Anymore. I threw myself at him fifteen years ago. He could work for it, this time.
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand and smiled. “Thanks for the pep talk. I can always count on you to remind me how fine I am.”
“My chief job is reminding you how fine you are. You’re welcome.” She squeezed me back, then pulled back to stifle a yawn. “I’m thinking about getting in bed and watching last night’s Power again. Mama talked through the whole episode.”
“Yeah, I’m going to go. We have a long day of appointments tomorrow. Getting in the bed sounds like a great idea.”
Tamera sniggled and I rolled my eyes. “Alone. Good night, Tam. I’ll walk myself around to the front.”
I walked around the side of the house and stopped when I got to the gate that led to the front yard. I had to lift the latch and walk past the house next door to get to my car, but I heard voices coming from next door. From the porch next door.
Shit. I couldn’t get out of the yard without them seeing or hearing me.
“This is the stuff I was talking about, KC,” I heard Kendrick say. “No disrespect to Leslie at all, but you’re acting real wild about her right now—”
“How am I acting wild?”
“You kissed her. What part of the business plan— or the campaign plan, for that matter— is sucking face with her?”
“It wasn’t like that, man. I didn’t let it get that far.”
“But why, is the question, when it’s going to throw everything off?”
“Couldn’t help it. You’ve seen her mouth, right?”
I blushed, lifting my fingertips to my lips. Hearing him rave about the kiss made them swell with the memory of his lips on mine.
“Man, I am married and my wife is like… eleventy hundred months pregnant. I technically don’t see lips, tits, asses— none of that, if I want to live or not sleep on the couch.”
KC laughed. “Okay, okay. But off the record?”
“Off the record? I mean… she’s aight. If you like girls with thick hips and a pretty mouth.”
“I don’t know, man. We just… we were having a conversation about some things back in the past. About me and her, together, you know? Maybe I got caught up or whatever. But it wasn’t like she didn’t like it. She didn’t push me back or anything.”
“KC… a large percentage of women want you to kiss them. Your busted knee doesn’t make groupies disappear.”
“She’s not a groupie, Kendrick.”
“You know what I mean. Just don’t get to thinking that it means anything that she didn’t push you away and spray you with Mace. I mean, if you’re lonely we can find you someone. Tracey would love to— ”
“Nah, man.” KC laughed. “I can pick up my own women. I’m not trying to make things harder on myself, but there’s something there. I liked her back then. I like her now. I think she's actually coming around to me, lately. If there’s another chance with her, I definitely don’t want to miss out.”
“You also definitely need to focus. If you lose this election, you get to cut Mayor Adams’ hair from now on.”
I heard KC scoff and both men laugh. “I don’t have a license to cut hair.”
“He doesn’t really have hair. Couple swipes with some scissors and some oil to shine up that dome—”
They collapsed in loud laughter. Even I giggled a little, under my breath. Before Guys N’ Dolls opened, it used to be my job to clip those little wayward hairs growing from the Mayor’s severely receded hairline. That was one client I was happy to turn over.
I leaned against the side of the townhouse, listening to two men talk. About women. About me in particular, and my thick hips and pretty mouth. I didn’t want to be flattered, but I was. I ran my hands down my body, self-evaluating.
So my hips were thick?
And thick hips were a good thing?
I needed to get away from the conversation before I heard something I didn't want to hear, but I was trapped at the fence. They wouldn’t miss me walking past the house.
Saved by the bell. A ringtone blared into the night. I heard KC answer, then say goodnight to Kendrick. His voice carried as he walked toward his truck parked in front of the house. I peeked through the bushes and saw Kendrick open the screen door and step into the house.
As soon as I heard KC’s truck start up, I breathed a sigh of relief and flipped up the lock on the gate and slipped past the house. I’d just made it to my car when I heard a voice call my name.
Shit!
“Leslie! Hey, I thought that was your car over there.”
KC was hanging out of the window of his truck as it sat at the curb, huffing quietly. I smiled and gave a little wave, then ducked into my car and started it up before he got any ideas about getting out of his truck to come talk to me.
Or kiss me. Because after eavesdropping that conversation, I was sure I would let him.
Chapter Eighteen
KC
* * *
“So then in ‘76… or was it ‘77?”
A stout, dark skinned woman with a freshly shampooed, blow dried and flat iro
ned shoulder length bob had planted herself next to me in what Leslie called the “lobby” of her shop, a short row of chairs along the window across from the desk. I couldn’t figure out if she had been warned that I would be at the shop that day, or if she just walked around with photo albums in her purse, but I had been looking at pictures of Dolores Robinson and her family for over twenty minutes and there seemed to be no end in sight.
She’d started with telling me about meeting her husband at Howard University, and now I was listening to her life story.
“I think it was ‘77 when me and Walter moved down here from Maryland.” Except she pronounced it Muhrlun. “He got a job with the railroad and I started working over at Augusta Manufacturing. That was the textile mill that closed up shop a while ago now. A lot of us worked out there, mmmhmm.”
She nodded, her lips drawn in and the edges of her mouth turned down.
“So when the mill closed, what happened? Where did everybody go for work?”
She closed up the photo albums and tucked them into the large bag she’d brought with her. “We tried to find jobs in Potter Lake, but we was always real small out here. Not enough jobs in this little town to employ everybody from the mill. Some of us went to Healy, cause it’s bigger. We worked so hard, you know, to have our own, so when it came to workin’, wasn’t no room or use for pride. We took jobs doing anything to pay the mortgage, to keep food in the refrigerator. My husband, Walter, ended up going away to find work. He’s been driving back and forth to Alabama for a long time now.”
“Ms. Dolores, he’s still with the bank out in Birmingham?”
Leslie butted into our conversation from behind her salon chair, where she was twisting strands of her client’s hair together and arranging them into an attractive style. I hadn’t even thought of being able to provide more complicated hairdos like twists and locs, styles that required skill and technique. It made me tired to think about how much I’d have to expand to care for my female clientele.
“Unh huh,”she confirmed, adjusting her wide rimmed glasses. “He just celebrated fifteen years there. He leaves out early Monday morning and he’s back late Thursday night. It’s actually been nice. Right about the time I start to miss him, it’s time for him to come home. And then when I’m about tired of his mouth, off he go.”
