Page 61 of Saints & Sailors

Working for free? I guessed this was punishment for staying out all night, getting drunk and high.

Dreux left our school bags in the car before leading me over to Angela’s Salon.

He opened the door for me, allowing me to walk in first.

Inside, along one side of the room, women were doing hair; on the other side, some were waiting under hair dryers while reading magazines or books. Toward the back, beyond the row of hair-styling chairs, were the nail stations, filling the room with the steady buzz of a drill.

In the front of the shop was a waiting area, where a young girl was doing homework at a coffee table while a children’s show played on the overhead flat-screen TV. I had to question if she could even hear the show with the music that was playing throughout the shop. I could tell it was either old school soul or R&B, but by the way some of the hairdressers were vibing along, I knew the song was before my time.

The room was rich with a color scheme of purple and gold. Purple painted walls were accompanied by gold borders, and the furniture was gold with purple throw pillows. Pictures of famous Black people hung up on the wall, and decorative African figurines littered shelves and cabinets. One wall held personal pictures. On it, I could spot Dreux and his mother, and what had to be an old picture of the two of them with René too.

All at once, as the shop bell went off—still managing to be heard despite the TV and music—the hairdressers all turned and looked at me. They didn’t just look; they all stopped what they were doing and froze.

Call me crazy, but I had a feeling I was the first White girl to ever step foot in Angela’s.

Dreux’s hands came down on my shoulders, the weight of his support and protection easing my nerves. “Hey, everyone.”

“Hey, Dreux,” they all said in unison, their eyes still glued to me.

Going along with the color scheme, all of the hairdressers were adorned in purple smocks, while the nail technicians wore black ones.

Dreux didn’t let me go. “This is Saylor, she’s going to be helping out around here. Right, Mom?”

Angela didn’t look too pleased as her eyes were fixed on us.

An older woman, one with dyed burgundy hair, high cheekbones, and glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose, spoke up. “Is this your new girlfriend, Dreux baby?”

“No,” Angela jumped in, the tone of her voice letting me know where she stood with the idea. I was not good enough for her son.

Angela left her client and came toward us. “You’re here to work, understood?”

I peered into her hard, dark eyes, wondering if she’d ever like me. “Yes, ma’am.”

She regarded her son. “You go on and get over to Chucky’s.”

Dreux gave my shoulder a good squeeze. “Be nice, Mom.”

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Dreux left me alone with his mother and the room full of women, who were still staring, even their clients.

“He still seein’ that Tabitha girl?” the burgundy-haired woman asked.

Angela’s scowl deepened at the mention of Tabitha. “Girl, Josephine, no. That ended a while ago. Thank God.”

Josephine made a face as she ran her fingers through her client’s hair, fluffing it a bit. “I knew you never liked her.”

Angela didn’t deny this. “I know a fast tail when I see one.” Her eyes were on me, so unwelcoming and cold. “Well, let’s get you to work. You’re going to be responsible for a lot around here, okay?”

I didn’t have a choice, so I bobbed my head. “Yes.”

“You’ll clean, you’ll organize, you’ll answer the phone and set appointments according to availability, you’ll stay out of the way, you’ll be on time, and you won’t back talk. Your breaks will be fifteen minutes, but I’ll give you a half hour lunch because I like your father. Your pay after your first week will be fifteen dollars an hour should we reach a decision that you will remain working here, take it or leave it.”

Fifteen bucks an hour was higher than minimum wage, so I guessed it was better than nothing, even if I were probably going to be working short days.

Again, I simply nodded. “Yes.”

In another moment, she was handing me a broom, allowing me to start my work.