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“Not normally, but for these beauties, I can make an exception,” she smiled at the girls. “I can wash it and put it into a braided style that won’t take much to maintain.”
“Low maintenance sounds good to me. Would it be possible for me to bring them this weekend? I know it’s short notice. If you’re booked, that’s fine…”
“I’m totally booked at the salon for the next few days. I was out in California with Lyrica, so my clients have me busy.”
“Yes, did everything go well?”
“It did. She is preparing to launch a huge promo for her upcoming album, so she had some photos taken and a couple of appearances,” Cam explained.
“I love Lyrica,” Skye swooned.
“I love her, too,” Cam smiled.
“What about next week?” I asked.
“I have to go into the shop on Sunday to clean and do inventory. I can take care of them then.”
“Sunday? No, I don’t want to impose. I can just call and book an appointment for them when you have an opening.”
“If it was an imposition, I wouldn’t have offered,” she sassed.
I squinted my eyes at her because she knew I couldn’t respond to her snarky comment in front of the girls.
She returned a quick squint silently, relaying that she’d won that round.
“Fine, Sunday it is. You will let me know how much the services cost?”
“Yep, I will. Look on Pinterest. It’s a website…” she started.
“I know what Pinterest is, Cambria Cee-o-ban,” I smiled.
It was her turn to mean eye squint me because I’d mispronounced her middle name on purpose. Her middle name Siobhan was often mispronounced by people who read it. It was her pet peeve and I used it to get under her skin.
“See, that’s why you can’t tell black people stuff,” she laughed. “Anyway, send me a picture of what styles you may want, and I will let you know my rates.”
“We will find this Pinterest that you speak of and attempt to figure our way around this new-fangled internet thing.”
“Whatever, Morris. I was just trying to help,” she chuckled.
“I appreciate it. I will send you pics later?”
“No problem. Bye girls. Have a wonderful day at school,” Cam smiled.
“Bye, Ms. Cam!” both girls responded.
“Thanks for the coffee. It’s delicious,” I said.
“You’re welcome.”
2
Pulling into my designated parking space atWhip N’ Fade, I turned my car off and gathered my things.
Whip N’ Fadewas a unisex salon. The men were serviced on theFadeside while the women were serviced on theWhipside. There were four barbers and four beauticians. We had one nail technician who floated between both sides providing services.
I walked through the doors with fifteen minutes to spare. I needed those minutes to prepare myself for my first client of the day. Ms. Elaine was one of my oldest, most loyal, and pickiest clients. I had to see her first thing in the morning when I was still high off my morning meditation, workout, and coffee. If I had her any other time of the day, we would probably fight…fistfight…and I would win.
I always turned clients away from the mirror until I finished because as the stylist and creative, I knew the direction I wanted their style to go. So, to avoid the questions and complaints, I would turn them away until the end. Not Ms. Elaine; she used to find a way to turn the chair so she could watch me in the mirror. She always had a critique of what I was doing, even though I was nowhere near finished. “It looks like that curl is tighter than that one.” “I hope this little piece in the front won’t stay that way.” “What is that spray you’re using. It smells different.”
