Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  "Sorry, Momma." He stooped his shoulders and shot a nervous glance at Ashley before he turned his gaze to the floor. The duo looked nothing alike. He was as dark as his namesake, but Crazy Jade was as pale as a white lady with the freckles to match. That was the thing with black folks, half the time you never knew what color your kids would be. Chantel had two babies two years apart with the same dad. The girls looked exactly alike, except one had light skin and the other dark.

  Jade released Coal and knotted the tie around her robe, finally covering her chest. "What you selling?" she asked, approaching the door.

  Ashley noticed white bits of lint clinging to the black robe, and she smelled strawberry body wash. "I heard you could do Brazilian blowouts." Ashley straightened, suddenly aware of the ninety-degree heat, and the sweat beading on her top lip.

  "I can," she said.

  Ashley's heart leapt. "Do you still use the one with formaldehyde?"

  "Coal, go back outside and play," Jade said.

  "Excuse me." He ran past Ashley and back outside.

  "That product's been banned." Jade crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  "I know." Ashley rolled her eyes. "But do you still use it?"

  Jade shrugged. "Maybe."

  Ashley closed her eyes and silently thanked God. "How much?"

  Jade lifted her chin and arched a brow. "You do know it's toxic, right?"

  "How much?" Ashley repeated.

  "450," Jade said.

  "Damn, are you serious?" Two hundred was the most Ashley had ever paid, and she had to practically lie, steal, and cheat to come up with that money.

  "Supply and demand," Jade said, tapping her bare foot.

  "That's more than twice what I pay at a salon. How about three hundred?" Ashley was desperate, but was she $450 desperate?

  "You can't get it at a salon. Four hundred."

  "Three-fifty." This time Ashley did not hide the desperation in her voice.

  Jade smirked and stepped back from the door. "Are you ready?"

  "Yes." Ashley's heart filled with joy as she walked into the apartment. She would have to sell the rest of her food stamps, but straight hair was worth living off ramen noodles and bologna two weeks.

  Her enthusiasm was momentarily forgotten when the apartment's humidity hit her in the face.

  "Sit here while I go change." Jade pointed to a chair in the kitchen. Ashley walked past the couch, the lone piece of furniture in the living room, and sat at the kitchen table.

  Just as Ashley wondered if Crazy Jade was ever coming back, the redhead stepped into the kitchen. She had changed into a pair of loose fitting blue jeans and a black t-shirt.

  "Why would you put something so toxic on your hair if you didn't have to?" Jade asked as she rummaged through the kitchen cabinets.

  "It's the only thing that straightens my hair."

  Jade pulled out a white container the size of a cereal bowl, an orange rattail comb, and a curling iron from the bottom cabinet. "You're Black, your hair isn't meant to be straight."

  "Yeah, but I want good hair." Ashley fidgeted, trying to find a comfortable position in the hard chair. Was she really going to hear a lecture on the harmful effects of Brazilian blowouts and relaxers from someone who straightened hair illegally in her kitchen?

  "You mean straight hair?" Jade asked. She placed the container on the table and stood behind Ashley.

  "Straight hair or curly hair is good hair. Anything is better than nappy."

  Jade undid the ponytail and began pulling her hands through Ashley's coarse hair. She tensed, expecting the woman to pop a nap, but no snap or pain ever came.

  Jade opened the container, put on a pair of latex gloves, and began applying the cold cream to Ashley's hair. The smell was a mix between the stench of the last chemistry class she had taken before she'd gotten pregnant and dropped out of school and the flowers at the Myriad Botanical Gardens.

  "Why do you think you should have straight hair?" Jade asked, parting Ashley's hair with the tip of the comb.

  "Why do you care? You get paid for this. Shouldn't you be encouraging all black women to get their hair straightened?"

  "I'm curious. Human psychology has always interested me."

  "I'm half white," Ashley said, deciding to tell the truth. "My hair shouldn't be as nappy as it is." It was her hair. She could do whatever she wanted with it.

  "Well," Jade said, "I can make your hair so straight you'll never need another Brazilian blowout."

  "Really, I won't have any problems with new growth?" Ashley bent her neck so Jade could apply the cream to the back of her head.

  "No," Jade said. "The product I use reaches into the hair follicle."

  "How is that possible?" Ashley mumbled. Her chin was practically touching her chest, and she was having a hard time moving her jaw.

  "I've added my own ingredients," Crazy Jade said with pride.

  "If you can do that, why don't you straighten your own hair?"

  "I had it straightened once, but nappy feels more me than straight." Jade spoke with a confidence Ashley envied.

  "I feel more me with straight hair," Ashley said. "Do you think that makes me ashamed of being Black?"

  "No, it's just hair. Besides if it made you less Black, then there wouldn't be an authentic Black woman in Oklahoma."

  Any response Ashley may have had, was forgotten when two of kids tapped anxiously on Jade's opened door. "What y'all want?" she asked.

  "Aunt Effie. Her chest is hurting real bad, and she can't breathe."

  "What y'all coming to me for?" Jade asked.

  "Cause you're a witch doctor," said a girl with big eyes and two French braids.

  "I ain't a witch ..." Jade began but trailed off. "Come on let's go." She removed her gloves, threw them in the trash, and turned to Ashley. "This won't take long. Just in case I'm not back in time, wash that out after ten minutes. Don't leave it in any longer."

  "Ten minutes isn't long enough," Ashley said.

  "Ten minutes," Jade repeated and followed the kids out of the apartment.

  Ashley sat on the chair in the small dining room and tapped her French manicured fingernails on the wooden table stamped with old cup rings and heat stains. The dining room seemed to be an afterthought to the builders. The table and four chairs barely fit into the small space.

  She looked at the gold-plated watch on her wrist and exhaled deeply. It felt like an eternity, but only one minute had passed. At the salon, she had Chantel and the other hairstylists to gossip with. Here she didn't even have Crazy Jade since the woman had run off to do God knows what. Why had the kids come to Jade anyway? Was she some type of medicine woman on top of everything else?

  She brought her hands to scratch the inevitable burning and tingling that accompanied every Brazilian blowout, but she stopped in midair. Her hair and scalp might be able to take the toxic substance, but she wasn't sure about her unprotected hands. To occupy herself, she started tapping the table again, ignoring the burn. Cora had always told her beauty is pain.

  At the two minutes mark, Ashley walked to the cheap fiberboard bookshelf that separated the kitchen from the living room. She trailed an index finger along the children's books on the top and second shelf. Their frayed edges and discolored covers told her they were well read.

  She pulled Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein from the second shelf. It had been her favorite book as a kid. She loved the goofy pictures and how every other poem was sarcastic, dark, and humorous.

  I guess I should start reading to Ebony, Ashley thought as she flipped through the yellowed pages. Maybe if she paid her daughter more attention, she'd stopped clinging to Cora so tight.

  Five minutes.

  As Ashley replaced the poetry book, a book with no title on the spine caught her attention. She picked it up. It had a brown paper bag as its cover. It smelled ancient, and she coughed as the musty smell attacked her sinuses. The paper almost felt handmade. Even if it wasn't, she knew it must be expensive
because of the way it bent as she turned every page.

  Most of it was written by hand. She couldn't tell if it was written in another language or if it was code, but she could tell they were recipes. Each had what must be a title, a list of ingredients and a paragraph or two below.

  She wondered if one of these was the skin whitening cream Cora had bragged about or the recipe for the Brazilian blowout. If she could get someone to translate it, maybe she could make it herself and save a few hundred dollars a month.

  She looked outside. The wind had picked up. A plastic Wal-Mart bag, dirt, and leaves blew past the door. Besides the wind, the only thing she heard was the distant laughter from the playground. There was nothing to indicate anyone was near the apartment. With shaking, clumsy fingers, she put the book in her purse and zipped it closed.

  Eight minutes.

  She sat back at the table and willed her hands to stop shaking. Stealing from a woman named Crazy Jade was stupid. But if she didn't want someone to take it, Jade shouldn't have left it on her bookshelf with a stranger in her house. The time ticked away while she tapped her nails on the table and thought about all the reasons why Jade didn't need the book anymore.

  Ten minutes. Ashley almost thought to wash it out, but Chantel had always left it in for twenty minutes. Naw, her hair was too nappy for only ten minutes, she decided. She needed at least fifteen minutes to get her roots straight. Where the hell was Crazy Jade, though? For $350 she shouldn't have to wash her own hair.

  After fifteen minutes; Ashley gave up on Jade and stepped into the kitchen. She had been in dozens of apartments growing up, but Vista Apartments had the smallest kitchen she'd ever seen. The sink stood directly across from the electric stove, and she could barely stand without bumping into the oven.

  She washed her hair using the gloves, shampoo, and conditioner left on the counter next to the Dawn dishwashing liquid. As the warm water and shampoo cleansed her scalp, she ran her hands through her hair expecting to catch her fingers on a few stubborn tangles that usually remained after a blowout. But her fingers maneuvered seamlessly through her hair. Zero pain. "Wow, this is better than what I had before," Ashley said out loud, wishing there was someone in the room she could share her excitement with.

  After three washes, taking care to remove all the chemicals, she put a towel on her head and stood. Her breath caught in her throat. Wet black strands of hair filled the sink. She was hardly able to see the dull metal basin underneath.

  "Damn, I guess I shouldn't have left it in for so long."

  Ashley washed the stray hair down the drain before she ran to the bathroom mirror. She breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, there was still plenty of hair on her head. A few strands of fell out while she ran her hands through her hair, but that was normal. It happened every time she had a Brazilian blowout. This was just a bit more than usual.

  "What's going on?" Jade stood in the hallway.

  Ashley frowned, trying to cover up the fact she had been scared. "It took you long enough."

  "I've been gone for almost thirty minutes, are you just now washing that stuff out?"

  "No, I've been waiting for the past twenty minutes."

  "Then why is your hair still soaking wet?"

  Ashley rolled her eyes and shrugged. "I don't know."

  Jade looked like she was going to argue, so Ashley cut her off. "Are you going to blow dry my hair or not?"

  Ashley tried to walk out of the bathroom, but Jade grabbed her arm.

  "How long did you leave it in?" Jade asked sternly.

  "Fifteen minutes," Ashley said, shaking away Jade's hand.

  "I told you ten."

  "You should have come back earlier. What were you doing anyway?"

  "Saving an old lady's life," Jade said.

  "I paid you to do my hair. I shouldn't have to wash it myself."

  Jade lifted an eyebrow. "Because your hair is more important than someone's life?"

  "No, it's not, but I paid you," Ashley said embarrassment replacing anger. "Besides, what harm can an extra five minutes do anyway?"

  "Nothing. I hope," she said sarcastically. "Come on, you paid me to do your hair. Let's get it done."

  Forty minutes later, when her hair was properly blow-dried and flat-ironed, Ashley paid Jade and left the stuffy apartment. The wind had died down, and only a slight breeze remained. It jostled her hair, and the light prickling on her neck made her smile. Her hair had never been so weightless that it moved and then effortlessly settled back in place.

  "Hey, Ashley. Where are you coming from?"

  Ashley turned to see Sean, the young cutie who lived in the apartments. She had dated his best friend's brother before she met Ebony's father. "What's up, Sean?" she asked.

  "You do something different to your hair?" he asked.

  "Jade straightened it for me," she said, patting her hair.

  "You know she's crazy, right? You shouldn't be messing with her."

  "You think she's a voodoo priestess, too?" Ashley laughed. "Sean, you're too smart to believe in that kind of stuff."

  "Voodoo is a religion rooted in the worship of ancestors, and Jade does not worship her ancestors. She's evil, and you need to stay away from her."

  Ashley rolled her eyes. "You is crazy. She's not the devil, and she's not evil." She thought about the book she'd stolen and its cryptic writing. Maybe he knew something about the book. But she couldn't ask him about it without admitting she stole it. "I'm grown. I don't need you watching out for me."

  "Just be careful," he said.

  He looked genuinely concerned, and Ashley softened. "Why are you so worried?"

  Sean took a deep breath and looked back towards Jade's apartment. "Nothing," he said. "Just be careful. If you don't have to mess with her, don't."

  She patted his arm to reassure him. "I'll leave her alone. I promise." She got what she needed anyway. And if she could figure out what language the book was written in, she could make her own blowout.

  Ebony slept snuggled in the nook of her grandmother's arms. They both Cora and Ebony slept with downturned lips that made it seem like they were both having bad dreams.

  Cora's eyes flashed opened. "Girl, what the hell are you doing?" She said through gritted teeth, keeping her voice so Ebony wouldn't. "You scared the hell out of me."

  "Sorry," Ashley said. "You guys looked so peaceful. I didn't want to wake you."

  Cora answered with a grunt and carefully sat up. The child whined with sleepy annoyance and clung to Cora tighter.

  "Sweetie, you ready to go?" Ashley asked, bending down and lifting Ebony into her arms.

  Ebony mumbled a 'no,' but she never opened her eyes.

  Cora went to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of water, and took a long drink. "Your hair looks good."

  "You think?" Ashley shifted Ebony in her arms.

  "It looks damn good." Cora put her cup on the kitchen cabinet and ran her hands through Ashley's hair. "It has White Girl Flow. Damn. I can't believe how smooth it feels. I told you Crazy Jade knows her stuff."

  "Yeah, she did a good job. She charged a lot, though."

  "She ain't cheap." Cora brought her hands to her mouth and gasped. "Baby, your nose is bleeding."

  "What?" Ashley put Ebony back on the couch and touched her nose. Her hand came away covered in blood.

  Cora passed her a napkin, and with trembling hands, Ashley tried to stop the blood.

  "You need to sit down and lean your head back," Cora said with a concerned, commanding voice. Ashley couldn't help but be touched by her mother's rare show of worry.

  "No, no," Ashley pulled the napkin from her nose. "It stopped. See." She was relieved to see her wishful thinking had been the truth. The napkin was soaked, but no more blood flowed.

  "Since when you do get nose bleeds?" Cora's question was filled with fear and suspicion.

  "I think it's just the heat," Ashley said. "Jade's apartment was hot, and she had the door opened the entire time."

  Cora
sucked her teeth and narrowed her eyes, but before she could ask another question, Ebony woke up.

  "Hi, Mommy," she said getting up from the couch and reaching for Ashley. "Oooh," Ebony said after Ashley picked her up. "Look at your hair. It's so beautiful, Momma."

  Ashley smiled, trying to forget about Sean's warning and her bloody nose. "Thank you, baby. You ready to go home and see your daddy?"

  "Yeah." Ebony yawned, resting her head on her mother's shoulder while affectionately running her fingers through Ashley's straightened hair.

  When they finally made it home, Ashley covered her hair with a do-rag and a plastic shopping bag, before she took a short shower. Afterward, she put Ebony in the bathtub. As her daughter played with the bubbles and her water toys, Ashley stared in the mirror and experimented with different hairstyles. It looked best when it was down and flowing. But she could pull off bangs, ponytails, and buns on the days she wanted a change.

  When Ebony started complaining about her skin turning gray and getting wrinkled, Ashley forced herself away from the mirror, lifted Ebony out of the tub, and dressed her in a pair of Teletubbies pajamas.

  Steven, Ebony's dad, was due home in an hour, and she wanted everything to be perfect. She sat the child at the kitchen table surrounded by three teddy bears, a white Malibu Barbie, and a coloring book. While she colored, Ebony asked the toys about their day. She mimicked different voices for each toy. Cora said that was a sign Ebony needed a little brother or sister, but Ashley wasn't having any more kids if she had her way. One kid was enough. She hadn't had any brothers or sisters, and she turned out just fine.

  "Momma, what are we having for dinner?" Ebony scribbled with a blue crayon over Cookie Monster's face.

  "We are having fried pork chops, macaroni, and green beans." Ashley reached into the top cabinet and grabbed a box of macaroni and cheese, opened it, placed the sauce package on the countertop, and poured the pasta into a boiling pot of water. "It's your daddy's favorite meal," she said, more to herself than Ebony.

  Jodeci's "Forever My Lady" played on the cassette player. She and Steven had slow danced to this song the first time they met while at a house party. She bobbed her head and swayed her shoulders to the beat while she stirred away the clumps out of the macaroni. The air smelled of fried pork chops and black cherry incense from the air freshener plugged into the wall.