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“Well, that’s a start,” I offer, knowing that the only reason she’s been on three dates with him is because they haven’t fucked, yet. Greta believes in fucking her dates on the first night to see if she wants to invest any more of her time with them.
“The start of what?” she asks, handing me the mirror. “This looks good.” She swings her hair from side to side, admiring how silky it is.
“The start of something new,” I state, unsnapping the cape from around her neck. “I mean…hell, the fact that you’ve been out on three dates with him says a lot since we both know that most men don’t make it past the second date with you.”
She laughs, getting up. “Girl, you know that’s right. That’s because once I’ve tasted the goods, I don’t normally want a second helping of what they’re offering. And the only reason I haven’t sampled the Captain yet is because he’s being so damn gentlemanly. But the minute he makes a move on me, I’m gonna eat him alive. I hope he keeps a hard dick. I’d hate to have to toss him out of my bed.”
I laugh. “Girl, get the hell out of here. You better worry about not killing him in the process.”
She taps the tip of her index finger on her chin. “Mmm, maybe I should marry him first.”
I continue laughing. “Girl, you’re too much.”
She shrugs, handing me a twenty-dollar tip. “I’m keeping it real.”
“I know you are. That’s what so damn funny.”
“I’ll keep you posted,” she says, walking off. “See you in two weeks.”
I shake my head, watching her walk off toward Felecia to pay her bill. I see Janelle is finished getting her pedicure right on time and wave her over.
“Girl, ya’ll are doin’ the damn thang up in here,” she says, sitting down in the chair. I got the Chocolate Mint-pie pedi and it was heavenly. Where in the world did you come up with the idea to give names of desserts for different types of pedicures?”
The Chocolate Mint-pie pedi starts off with your feet being pre-soaked in a coconut milk and mint mixture; then we add chocolate coffee to the mixture, letting your feet soak for ten minutes, then comes the chocolate scrub and feet massage. Once the scrub and massage are over, then comes a warm chocolate paraffin wrap brushed onto the feet. Finally, we apply the chocolate mint therapy lotion.
An hour later, your feet are relaxed, soft as silk, and you walk out feeling like you’re in seventh heaven. What most people don’t know is that not only does the chocolate aroma calm the senses; the chocolate contains ingredients that can hydrate and moisturize the skin. I learned this from checking the going-ons in white-owned salons. Most black-owned salons aren’t up on this, and they damn sure aren’t offering it.
“Girl, you know I like to stay on top of shit, keep customers talking and wanting to come back. You gotta know when to step outside the box.”
I tell her about the eyelash and eyebrow clinic that Nappy No More is about to undertake, where we’ll be offering eyelash extensions and eyebrow-shaping and powders. We’ll also be providing eyelash dyeing for women who don’t want to keep using mascara, and eyelash perming for those who have straight lashes. It’ll be a forty-five minute procedure and the results will last for about six weeks or so. “I’m telling you, we are catering to the woman on the go
who wants one-stop, customized salon care for her hair, face, body and feet.”
“I know that’s right,” she says as I snap the cape around her neck. “I’m impressed. Umm, speaking of stepping outside of the box, I want a whole new look; something real drastic, yet sassy for the spring.”
“What do you have in mind?” She tells me to do whatever I want. I smile, and decide to give her a retro bob cut. I see Big Booty still at the counter talking to Felecia, either catching up on—or dishing out—the latest gossip, then she speaks to a few clients sitting in the waiting area before she makes her way over to my workstation. Over all the chemicals floating through the air in here, I can practically smell her signature perfume—Juicy by Juicy Couture before she approaches me. This is the first time anyone has seen her since she got sliced in the face. She lifts her up her designer shades, tossing her shoulder-length weave to the side. “Miss Pasha, girl, can you fit me in today? I see you kinda busy up in here. How many heads you got?”
Shit, I can’t ever remember her damn real name. “Hey, girl,” I say, mindful not to call her by her street name. “I have two or three, but I’m sure I can fit you in.”
“Perfect” she says, running her hand along the nape of her neck. “I need to get this kitchen handled. These peas are poppin’ for real.”
I laugh, eyeing her white Louis bag and admiring her wears. “You better go, girl,” I say, waving a finger in the air. “You look good. And that bag is hot.”
Shuwanda comments on the bag as well. “Yeah, girl, that’s shit’s fiyah for sure!”
“Thanks,” she says, letting her bag rest in the crook of her arm. “It was a treat to me after that ho cut me.” Her weave piece covers the right side of her face. She pulls it back to show us her scar. “Yeah, the bitch got me good. But she got even better.”
“Did she get charged?” Shuwanda wants to know.
“That bitch sure did, and she got stomped, too. Shit, we all got charged. That ho was snappin’ over some damn dick, comin’ up to my door tryna bring da noise.” She rolls her eyes, sucking her teeth. “Bitch, puhleeze. And the nigga was still tryna come through for some’a this goodie-goodie, okay.”
“And I know you sent his ass on his merry way,” I say, eyeing her as I turn on the water. When it’s the right temp, I lean Janelle back in the sink and begin washing her hair.
She bucks her eyes. “The hell if I did. I dug into that nigga’s pockets for all of my pain ’n sufferin’ first. Then I pulled a nut outta him.”
Shuwanda chuckles. “Ooh, girl, you messy. But I love it!” It figures she would, since the two of them are cut from the same cloth.
“Messy, hell,” Big Booty replies. “If that nigga don’t respect his relationship, then why should I? The only fool in the room is that dumb-ass ho thinkin’ she got shit on lock.”
