Irish loved the banter between the women. They often called out their faults and threw shade, but it was all in good fun.
“Irish, when you gon’ tell people that’s a box dye in your head?” Clarice joked.
“When your mama stop acting like she’s a size ten when she knows she’s a twenty-four. I’m tired of seeing her squeezing in those Simply Fashion clothes.”
“Oop.” Ivory laughed. “Yo’ mama do keep some too little blouses on. I know when she washes them, they shrink like a bitch.”
“Tell your mother that 1993 goes up to size twenty-eight,” Irish added, referring to her clothing line.
The room erupted into laughter as Clarice gave them both the evil eye.
“This why I can’t stand when these heffas come in the shop. They always trying to tag team and shit.”
Irish laughed. “No, you always trying to shade my hair color when you know it’s natural.”
Clarice pursed her lips. “Chile, that has yet to be determined.”
Irish had been teased so badly as a child for her natural ginger hair. She’d been called so many names that insults at her adult age didn’t faze her. In fact, she rarely got insults. It was more so compliments on how her hair was beautiful and paired well with her toasted brown skin.
“I heard about Rio, girl,” Rozalin stated quietly to her. “Please tell Cali that I’m praying for him. I can’t believe he got into an accident.”
“I know. I’m actually going to stop by the hospital when I leave here. Cali is going through it.”
“Shit, I would be, too. The streets are saying he’s on life support.”
Irish nodded. “Unfortunately, he is.”
Rozalin sighed. “Girl, I remember when my brother was on life support, and the doctors told us to take him off. We didn’t listen and decided to keep praying. Ten days later, my brother was up talking to us. So, tell Cali to keep the faith.”
“I told her the same thing. I think they should at least give him a fighting chance, ya know.”
“Yeah, I do. Besides, Rio’s fine ass needs to pull through. He’s eye candy when I go see my mama in Havenwood. Don't tell Cali, though.”
Irish chuckled, knowing Rio was probably a lot of women’s eye candy.
“But I will say, he didn’t play about Cali. Married men act the most single but not him. He was always flaunting that ring around and denying hoes access to him. Cali definitely got her a good one ‘cause most niggas would take the bait.”
That saddened Irish, knowing Cali had been giving her all to another man. Rio was proud to be her husband. He wore his title with pride, shooing away any girl that wasn’t Cali. It made Irish proud but envious at the same time. She too had a guy that didn’t play about her, but he wasn’t her man. She yearned for the day when her significant other flaunted her in the face of other women.
“Yeah, I know, he’s a good guy. That’s why I’m praying for him to pull through.”
“How is Jovanis taking it?”
Irish exhaled. “He’s been maintaining but I know it’s eating him up.”
Jovanis and Rio were close and had come up together in TLM. He didn’t speak much about Rio’s condition, but Irish knew him well enough to know that he carried a lot of pain on behalf of his friend.
“You bitches are so lucky.” Rozalin lightened the mood. “Where is my good man at?”
“Shit, he probably was that short guy you turned away last night at the casino,” Shay joked.
“Girl, ain't nothing wrong with a short king,” Ivory teased.
“Listen, at five foot ten, I’m not settling for no damn short man. Tall kings only,” Rozalin protested.
Irish snickered. “The tall kings are basketball and football players. Oh, and wrestlers.”
“So, you know what that means, right?” Clarice asked, “Either become a shooting guard or get in the ring. I’m sure my mama got some outfits you can borrow.”
