Just Too Good to Be True (5 page)

CHAPTER
6

Carmyn’s Past Makes a Comeback

I
walked from the laundry room back into the salon, when a woman sitting in Zander’s chair looked up at me and measured me with her eyes. Her lap was filled with pink plastic rollers that she was handing to Zander as he rolled her hair.

Zander was my most popular stylist. His customers affectionately called him the “Hair Nazi,” because he was known for turning down customers for a myriad of reasons if he didn’t like them or thought they didn’t take care of their hair. If they said things he didn’t like, he would tell them, “Don’t ever try to get on my book again in this lifetime.” I put up with him because he was so good and a percentage of his clientele helped pay off the salon. Besides, he never said anything nasty to me or my clients.

“Here are some clean towels,” I said to Zander. I could feel the woman’s eyes on me like a high-beam spotlight. I gave her a polite but distant smile. She looked familiar, and I couldn’t remember if I had seen her in the shop before or if she was one of Zander’s out-of-town clients. It was nothing for women to come from Augusta and Columbus to get him to do their hair.

As I was going back to my office, I heard her say, “Excuse me.”

“Yes,” I said, turning to face her again. As I tried to study her face without staring, memories from my youth suddenly started to flash before me. I was unable to get the picture of my daddy’s church out of my head. I saw my mother sitting proudly on the front row in one of her fabulous hats and waving a cardboard fan.

“Aren’t you from Houston?” she asked. I looked at her again. She was a small, brown-skinned woman with bright white teeth and too much hair for her head. She was dressed in an expensive pantsuit.

“No,” I said firmly.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“I guess you got a twin that lives in Houston, or used to. You sure your name isn’t Niecey Johnson? Weren’t you in Jack and Jill?”

“No to both questions,” I said.

“What about Daphne Mitchell? Do you know her? She was in Jack and Jill and she went to the University of Texas. I think she dated a football player.”

“I can’t say that I do.”

“You sure do look like Niecey,” she said as she gave me a wry little smile and looked away.

“Sorry,” I said as I shot Zander a puzzled glance and walked back into my office. I turned to close the office door, but I left it slightly ajar so I could hear their conversation.

“What was that about, Ms. Rena?” Zander asked.

“Who is that woman?”

“Carmyn Bledsoe. She owns this place.”

“How long have you known her?”

“Five years. Why?”

“She looks like this girl I went to church and high school with. It wasn’t like we were hanging buddies or anything, but Niecey Johnson was Miss Everything at Yates High School, and I think her first name was Carmyn. Her family was big-time in Houston. She was closer to my sister’s age, but I knew her more from church. We’ve all aged a little, but that woman looks just like Niecey.”

“They say everybody has a twin, but I’ve never heard Carmyn talk about being from Houston. Come to think of it, she never talks about her family at all except for her son,” Zander said.

“Don’t you find that odd?” Rena asked.

“Find what odd?”

“That she doesn’t talk about her family.”

“Mind your own business, Ms. Rena, or else you gonna have to find somebody in Auburn, Alabama, to do your hair, you hear what I’m saying?”

I closed the door and pressed my back against it as I took another deep breath. Being one of the most popular girls in your high school wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be.

Especially for a woman of thirty-eight who thought she’d outrun her past and the secrets it held.

CHAPTER
7

Brady’s Got It Bad…

I
was walking back to the athletic complex after morning practice and watching film when I saw the girl from the car wash. I could have sworn that I saw her looking in my direction, even though she was on top of a male cheerleader’s shoulders.

As I entered the complex, I noticed Shante Willis, one of the squad’s two black pom-pom girls. Shante smiled at me and then started running in my direction. I liked her and we had hung out a couple times during my sophomore year, but I’d put my guard up after Delmar told me she’d asked if I might be gay since I didn’t make a pass at her. The fact was I viewed her more as a little sister than a romantic possibility.

“Brady Bledsoe! How have you been? Did you miss me over the summer? Of course you missed me,” Shante said as she gave me a big hug.

“Hey, Shante. I see you are in two-a-day practice as well,” I said as I looked over at the cheerleaders. The girl from the car wash was talking to one of the male cheerleaders.

“Two-a-days? Honey, we practice three times a day. Got to get ready for the football season. Are you excited? It’s finally our senior year,” Shante said gleefully.

I didn’t answer. I was too busy watching the girl from the car wash. She was wearing tight pink shorts and a black sports bra. Her hair was pulled into another ponytail and her golden-brown legs looked perfect.

“Brady. Did you hear me?” Shante asked. When she noticed me looking toward the cheerleaders, she rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I said aren’t you excited about the season? I just read that you’re one of the leading candidates for the Heisman. I sure hope you win,” Shante said.

“Shante, who is she?” I said, nodding my head toward the group of cheerleaders, both male and female.

“Her?” Shante asked as she motioned toward the new beauty.

“Yeah…She’s new. Boy, is she beautiful,” I said without looking at Shante.

“She’s a transfer. I don’t know from where. You know how women can be sometimes, so we haven’t exactly bonded,” Shante said.

“Do you know her name?” I asked.

“I heard someone call her Barrett. We haven’t done a lot of mixing with the cheerleaders yet. We don’t do that until we start getting ready for pregame stuff,” Shante said.

“Barrett,” I repeated. She had a name as beautiful as she was.

“So you wanna hang out sometime before everybody gets back to campus?” Shante asked. The last session of summer school had ended and the only people on campus were football players, students on the spirit squads, and band members.

“Yeah, we can do that, but right now I got to run and grab a bite to eat,” I said as I continued to gaze at Barrett. I knew my mother would tell me talking to one person and looking at another was rude, but there was something about this new girl, this Barrett, that made it hard to look anywhere else.

CHAPTER
8

Barrett Doesn’t Play Well with Others

August 27, 2006

Dear Diary,

I found out today that Brady is definitely interested. I assumed he liked me, since no man can resist me once I turn on the charm, but getting confirmation did make me feel good. I caught him staring at me again today.

I was at cheerleading practice drinking a cup of water when one of the only black pom-pom girls, Shante, came sashaying up to me. This is the part of my job I hate: having to make friends with other females, be it ex-girlfriends, wannabe girlfriends, or mothers.

Bitches have a way of getting on my nerves. Always have.

I guess Shante could be all right. But she just tries too hard. Just because we’re both black doesn’t mean we have to be friends. I’m not here to make friends anyway. I’m here to get paid. In full.

Anyway, Shante tried to get all up in my business, asking if I was dating anyone and telling me she would approve if I decided to date Brady since at least he would be dating a sistah. Like I really need her approval. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.

As she kept talking she really started getting on my nerves, so I finally had to let her know that Barrett Elizabeth Manning gets whatever or whomever,
whenever
she wants. She looked at me like I was crazy. So I finally said, “Bitch, I’m not listening to anything you got to say. Go tell that shit to someone else.” And you know I had to cap that line off by sticking my nose toward the sky and giving her my best beauty contestant spin before I walked away.

I love doing that to females.

CHAPTER
9

Carmyn’s BF or Best Girl

M
e and my best friend, Kellis Glover, walked out of a gourmet coffee shop drinking skinny lattes under a summer pink and blue sky blended together like cotton candy at a county fair. It was almost nine o’clock in the morning.

We had just finished a Pilates class and Kellis was once again trying to get me to go out on a blind date with a friend of hers. Kellis didn’t know anything about Sylvester, because the first thing she would ask was what he did for a living. Like the Kanye West song said, Kellis wasn’t necessarily a gold digger, but she wasn’t looking for a broke man either. Kellis was working hard searching for husband number two and was not going to lower her standards.

“Kellis, how many times have I told you? I’m not interested in dating. My life is quite full. You know I stay busy,” I said.

We located my car, and I clicked the remote so we could get in. I was taking her back to my shop, where she had left her car.

“Yeah, that’s what you say. I need to meet your vibrator, because it’s got you on lockdown for real, honey,” Kellis said, and laughed.

“Stop talking like that, Kellis. I told you that in confidence. Somebody from my shop or church might hear us talking,” I whispered.

“Come on, Carmyn, loosen up. We all got a little freak in us,” Kellis said as she tried to tickle me.

“Stop it,” I said as I moved in front of her.

“Are you telling me you lead a nun’s life so your son will remain a virgin?”

“It’s important I set a good example for Brady,” I said.

“How many men have you been with in your life?” Kellis asked.

“I’m not answering that,” I said swiftly.

“More than three? Five? Twenty?”

“Let’s change the subject.”

“Have you ever been in a threesome?”

“Kellis! Stop it!”

“Whatever, girl. You don’t know what you’re missing.” Kellis laughed again.

A sturdy woman with skin as smooth as chocolate milk and a well-maintained weave, Kellis looked older than me although she was actually two years younger. She was only thirty-six but looked at least forty because of the chain-smoking habit she had picked up during her very public divorce. Kellis was the former wife of Rashard Smith, an all-star NBA player she married during her freshman year at Florida A & M. Kellis and I met when she became my customer at Back to My Roots, and she was one of the few customers I still provided personal services for. Even though she’d been divorced for several years and her financial situation had changed drastically, she loved expensive clothes and handbags. She told me when we met that it was her goal in life to marry another professional athlete. And since she had succeeded once, she could do it again.

Kellis and I shared the plight of being single moms of boys, and for years Brady and Ramon, Kellis’s son, were close. But when Brady got interested in sports, Ramon became obsessed with girls, fathering two kids before he was eighteen. I made sure Brady knew he was on a different mission and that it didn’t include becoming a parent so soon.

“What did Brady think of the gift you got him?” Kellis asked.

“Oh, honey, he was so excited. It took everything I had not to cry a river of tears when I saw my baby driving his new truck,” I said as we approached the parking lot of the spa.

“You know you spoil that boy.”

“Well, he’s my life. And you do the same for Ramon and his babies,” I said.

“I guess that’s what being a mother is all about. I just wish Ramon would make better choices. The mother of Ramon Jr. showed up at my house a couple days ago talking about how she needed some money for Pampers and formula. I told her, first of all, she needed to use them big titties that lured my son into her bed to feed her baby, and second I wasn’t giving her any money because it wasn’t my problem. She said she was going to talk to Rashard and I told her good luck, she’d have to find him first,” Kellis said.

“When is the last time you talked to Rashard?” I asked.

“About three years ago when I got my last child-support payment. Now I’m running low on cash, so I need to find me a new husband soon. Why do you think I have season tickets for the Atlanta Hawks and Falcons? I really wished Ramon had been interested in tennis or something he could make a living at. This time next year, you’ll be rolling in paper when Brady goes pro.”

“Now, you know I’m not interested in Brady’s money. If he makes it into the league I will be happy for him, but I’d be just as happy if he came home and helped me run my business or got a real job.”

“Has he found a girlfriend yet?” Kellis asked.

“Kellis, you know he’s not looking for one,” I snapped. I know I shouldn’t have, but I got sick of people always asking when Brady was going to get a girlfriend. I had raised Brady right and he was going to wait until he met his wife before having sex. I mean, with all the diseases out there and the way young girls are today, I was happy Brady wasn’t preoccupied with girls. Besides, I know there are a lot of young women out there, like Kellis, looking for soon-to-be professional athletes on college campuses. Once Kellis had implied that maybe Brady wasn’t interested in girls, that he might be gay. I told her that wouldn’t bother me, but I called Lowell anyway and he assured me Brady didn’t have a gay vibe.

“Touchy, touchy,” Kellis said.

“Honey, you’re not getting my dandruff up, but I don’t think I’ll be a grandmother before I’m forty,” I said. “Where is your car?”

“It’s over there,” Kellis said as she pointed toward the end of the strip mall where the Croissant Corner was located. I hoped we wouldn’t run into Sylvester, although I didn’t really know what his hours were. When I asked him why I didn’t see him in the store if I came by in the afternoons, he told me the owner sent him to work at some of the other locations in Atlanta.

I pulled behind Kellis’s car and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks, sweetie. You sure you don’t want to meet my friend? You might like him.”

“I’m sure. Now get out of my car so I can get back to the shop,” I said.