Page 93 of 4 Corinthians

“I want my family,” I answered.

Corinthians

“Don’t make it too short,” Rhodes Jeffers said as he sat down in my chair. I put a piece of paper tape around his neck, then draped the cape over him.

“You tell me the same thing every two weeks,” I said with a laugh. “Just say you don’t trust me.” I turned the chair so that he was facing the mirror, then stepped back and crossed my arms.

Rhodes laughed and shook his head. The golds in his mouth sparkled against the light. “Man, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you,” he told me, and I rolled my eyes. “Nah for real, I trust the fuck out of you. I just got a bad habit of saying the shit because niggas fucked my shit up so much as a jit.”

“Well, you ain’t a jit no more,” I reminded him. “You’re a grown ass man, one that’s been sitting in my chair for the last two years.” I walked around him, picked up my clippers and comb, then walked around him again. “So, find something else to tell me.”

“Man, Corinthians, you talk so much shit,” he said, shaking his head. “I swear when we were young you never said a word.” He watched me through the mirror. “What happened?”

“I didn’t like y’all,” I said, then smiled. Rhodes and his brothers grew up in Tuner Row, the projects down the street from my grandparents' house. Rhodes was always at the community center where Mercy played basketball. While everybody else was on the football field or basketball court, Rhodes was on the ice rink. I never understood how the only ice rink in the inner city was in TR, but it was, and Rhodes took advantage of it. He played ice hockey; it was his way out of the hood and into college. Now he was the captain of a professional hockey team, the KC Rooks.

“Man, what?” he laughed. “You didn’t like us?”

“Not at all,” I told him as I started to cut his hair. “I didn’t want y’all to talk to me. I just wanted to be alone.”

“I can tell,” he replied. “I would see you sitting in the gym looking out for Psalms when she was in the garden.”

I shrugged, then moved around him to work on his head. The TV was on SportsCenter, and when they mentioned the KC Queens, we both looked up. The announcement was made that the Queens were getting Mercy’s best friend, Legacy Glover, as their point guard. Even though Legacy had been here for a few weeks practicing with the team, the owner, Pyrite Stone, wanted to give her the same grand announcement he’d given Mercy.

“That nigga know what he doing when it comes to these teams,” Rhodes said.

“He does,” I agreed as I went back to cutting his hair.

For the next thirty minutes, I cut Rhodes' hair. Every so often, he would ask a question, but nothing to deep or personal. Rhodes was one of those guys who was chill to be around because nobody bothered him. His temper was short, so that may have been one reason. Rhodes' two brothers, Peace and Morning, were the same way. After I finished his hair, Rhodes paid, made another appointment, and left.

I grabbed the broom and started cleaning up when the door buzzer sounded. I looked at the security camera and saw that someone was standing there. I expanded the screen and saw Uri standing there, dressed in a suit with his hands in his pockets. I hadn’t seen him since dinner a week ago.

“Open the door,” he said without looking up at the camera. Sighing, I sat down, debating if I wanted to be near him. I did; there was no doubt in my mind. The only time I ever felt at ease and peace was with Uri. That was evident by the fact that I had slept next to him. I came out of the closet to find him sitting on the floor; he looked so lonely, like the little boy we were when we were younger. I curled up next to me, rested my head on his chest, and closed my eyes. And for a little while, I wasn’t that girl, and he wasn’t that boy. We were just two people, asleep. When he realized I wasn’t going to open the door, he pulled his phone from his pocket, typed something, and then put it away. He put his hand on the handle, and the sound of the locks disengaging filled the room; then he opened the door.

I watched, unapologetically, as he entered the shop. He was dangerous in the best possible way. His eyes swept over me, and a chill ran over my body.

“Nine unlocked the door?” I lifted my brow and asked. He shook his head, and I stood. Four eyes swept over me again, this time slowly. He stared at my feet, then went up my legs, my stomach, and then my chest. My nipples hardened the longer he stood there, staring. Finally, he cleared his throat and then moved up until our eyes met. “How did you get in?”

“Cross,” he answered. My brow went up, and he smiled. That damn smile was beautiful. His teeth were perfect, and the iced-out K-9s he wore added to his allure.

“You have friends in high places,” I replied, then went back to sweeping. He walked over to the chair, sat, and continued to watch me. When I was done, I leaned against the table, crossed my arms, and waited. We agreed to be strangers four years ago, but I knew it wouldn’t have worked. Even with the pain that lingered between us, there was an undeniable pull as well. Yes, it was attraction, but it was something else too. I didn’t know what to call it yet, but it was there. My cousins noticed it while we were in the backyard. Cross had pulled me aside and asked if I knew Four. I’d told her no, and that was the truth. I didn’t know Four. I'd only seen him twice.

I knew Uri.

“Come with me,” he finally said. I wanted to tell him no, that I had something else to do, but I didn’t. Judah was with Exodus tonight; they were going on a field trip at his school tomorrow, and Exodus had volunteered to go with him. Krude had decided this morning that he was going as well. I was going to have to send his principal an apology and donate a few haircut vouchers as an apology.

“Okay,” I told him. He smiled again, then stood and put his hand out for me to take. I didn’t hesitate when I put my hand in his.

***

An hour later, we were sitting at the top of a Ferris wheel. His arm was around my shoulders, and my head rested on his chest. I could hear his heart beating, calm, rhythmic, and calming. His cologne was subtle, but I would never forget it.

He took a deep breath, let it out, then nodded as if he were mentally coaching himself. “Tell me something,” he said as he twirled a piece of my hair. I needed to cut it; it was getting longer than I liked.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” he answered.

“My favorite color is gold,” I told him. It was easy, surface-level, a safe conversation. Navigating a conversation with him was scary. “I opened the shop four years ago. I went to school for business and originally was going to help Psalms but decided not to.”