Page 72 of When I Thug You Like That

“Ahh, man. I’m starving, Dad.”

I stopped at the car, opening the back door for him and Baby Jay to climb inside.

“We can either go straight to get the cut or you can miss your appointment and be walking ‘round lookin’ like them niggas who play the drums on the train. Up to you.”

He paused. “I can’t be out here lookin’ crazy, Dad.”

“Aight. Work wit’ me then.”

I closed the door behind him and got in on the driver’s side.

“Can you put my playlist on?” Justin requested while snapping Baby Jay into his harness.

“You mean the three songs you play in a loop over and over again?”

“Yeah.”

“No disrespect, son, but your playlist is trash.”

“Whatttt? Dad, I know you not talkin’. You be playin’ those old songs where the guys be begging for they woman back.”

I chuckled, pulling out of the parking spot. “You don’t know good music ‘til you’ve had to use one of those songs to get your woman back. You can’t get a woman to Fisherr.”

“Can you connect me to the Bluetooth please?”

Shaking my head, I selected his phone from the list and let him rock out until we got to our destination.

We pulled onto the street of the barbershop with two minutes to spare before our appointment. And it was a good thing because that sexy drill shit was getting on my damn nerves.

“Aight, everybody out. Just, if the wait is too long, then I’ll Door Dash you something.”

“Okay. Oh, Dad, can I get a taper today?”

“You can get whatever you want, young king. You the one gotta walk around wit’ it.”

I let Justin make a lot of his own decisions when it came to his looks. He picked out his clothes when we went shopping, had figured out his signature scent, and knew how he liked his hair cut. His independence came with a cost though, my honesty. Anything I felt looked crazy, I had no problem taking his ass out about it. It was my way of teaching him personal development.

“There go the Sullivan boys,” Justin’s barber, Duke, called out from the third chair.

Justin headed his way, dapped him up, and sat in the seat.

“What’s good, Duke? Where Dre at?” I asked, referring to mine and Baby Jay’s barber who was also the owner.

“He in the back showing the new barber around.”

“New barber? I thought y’all niggas was gonna be the O’Jay’s forever.” I laughed, taking a seat in one of the chairs lined up against the wall, while Baby Jay opted to stand.

“Shit, me too,” Duke said. “We need somebody younger in here though. Switch up the vibes.”

I nodded. “I hear you. So, today his first day?”

“Today is her first day,” he corrected.

On cue, Dre came walking from the back with one of those IG studs, the ones who stayed with a camera in their face, all the hoes, and some fly shit on. Her neck and wrist were iced the fuck out, and her line up looked better than mine. Shit, I didn’t know if she was in the shop to cut hair or model.

“What’s good, Jay?” Dre spoke when he spotted me. “We was just talkin’ ‘bout you.”

“That shit better had been all positive, or you gon’ have to see me ‘bout it.”