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Lina grunts. “Mmmph. Fuck her. The bitch’s too grand to let her girl hook her up. She’d rather give them high-priced bitches down at that salon her money than help her homegirl out. And the bitch knows I ain’t workin’.”
I plop my handbag up on the table. “Ho, the last time I let you run your hands through my hair my shit fell out in clumps. I had to wear damn headwraps and wigs fuckin’ with you. Had me looking like a damn man in drag.”
PennyLou and the girl gettin’ her hair wash laugh.
Dickalina shoots me a scowl over her shoulder. “Ohmygod, Cassie. I can’t believe you still on that shit. That happened, what, like fifteen years ago?”
“Try twenty. But who’s counting? The point is you fucked up my hair.”
She rinses chick’s hair. “You need to get over it. You know I was still learnin’ about hair back then. But can’t a bitch out there fuck with me now. And you know this.”
Okay, I won’t lie. Dickalina can slay the hell outta some hair. But, still . . . I’m not lettin’ her do my shit up in no damn dirty-ass kitchen.
I wave her on. “Oh, Lina, puhleeze. Suck a dick, boo. I told ya ass to go get your license, then get ya ass into a shop and I’d come through and let you hook me up. But noooo, you’d rather do hair up in some makeshift shit. Sorry, I’m not doing that.”
“Bitch, what the hell I need a license for? I already have a shop.”
I look around the kitchen. There are dirty dishes stacked up on the stove. The recyclables can is overflowing with beer cans and liquor bottles. “And where might that be? Did I miss the openin’ or somethin’?”
“No, ho. You’re sittin’ in it.”
“Bitch, puhleeze.”
She rolls her eyes, suckin’ her teeth. “PennyLou, reach over there on that cart and hand that ho a flier and one of my new business cards.”
PennyLou reaches over and grabs one of the colored fliers from the stack and a white card, then hands them to me. I blink. The flier reads:
DICKALINA’S SWISH ’N SWIRL SALON
THE ONE STOP POP ’N DROP SHOP
CUM THRU AND LET DICKALINA DUE YOU UP WRITE
APPOINTMENTS ONLY
ACCEPT CASH AND EBT PAYMENTS
I’m speechless. “Dickalina’s Swish ’n Swirl? Girl, what kinda hot-ghetto shit is this? This looks like an ad for a cock-wash and ball gargle instead of a damn hair salon. What, you gonna be suckin’ dick and tongue-curlin’ balls, too?”
PennyLou snickers. “Oooh, you wrong for that.”
“No, this damn flier is wrong; all wrong. And who the hell wrote this mess up, anyway?”
“Bitch,” she snaps, “you’re such a damn hater. I wrote it. Why?”
“Mmmph. Then Candy isn’t the only one who’s retarded in the room. Her damn mammy is, too.”
She swings chick up in her chair. “Bitch, get the fuck out! Your hatin’ ass always gotta have some fucked-up shit to say. I’m sick of you talkin’ shit about me and my kids and my gawtdamn man. Now get the fuck out!”
I sit back in my seat. She knows I’m not leavin’ up outta here until I’m good and goddamned ready. “Well, excuse me. No need to get all sensitive on me.”
“And there’s no need for you to be a damn hatin’-ass, evil bitch, either. But I see that ain’t stoppin’ you. If you don’t wanna be down with Swish ’n Swirl, then don’t. But keep your gawtdamn comments to ya’self.”
I put my hands up. “Okay, okay. Geesh. From now on, I’ll keep my trap shut.”
She rolls her eyes. “And now your black ass is lyin’.”
I laugh.
