Lady Swagger-The Beginning (4 page)

“What happened to your hair?” Jazz
questioned, as she looked Nikki’s mess of a mane over. All her hard work from the day before was gone down the drain.Nikki took a big bite out of the taco and put the rest back on the pan. Before taking a sip of the concoction, she offered Jazz some. Jazz declined. “It’s too damn early for all of that plus I don’t know where your mouth has been.”

“Suit yourself,” Nikki said, raising the glass to her lips and chugging more than half of it in seemingly one gulp. She sat her glass back on the count
er and faced Jazz. “And for the record, I’m not about to jump into a relationship with Cheryl because I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

Jazz drew her neck back. “You don’t say?” she laughed
, hoping to lighten the mood. “Well then what in the hell do you call what I just saw? If I didn’t see anything else I know I saw someone’s bare ass.”

“She was … medicating me.”

They both burst into hearty laughter. “Bitch, you are all kinds of crazy! And what makes you even more crazy is trying that shit with Dream still in the mix because you haven’t officially broken it off.”

“
She’ll get the memo soon enough. I’m soooo over that hooker after what she did to us. She will never get a whiff of this pussy again.”

Jazz wasn’t buying it at all. She’d heard it one too many times. Nikki knew as well as she did that if Dream knocked on that door at any given moment she would be all over her. Jazz wasn’t going to fall for the hype because this sounded like a played out rerun.

“Wow, this sounds really familiar. But when you really get tired of her going upside your head, let me know.” Jazz twisted her lips and shook her head in dismay.

“You’re supposed to be my girl and you’re just going to stand there and act like I’m so stuck on that broad I can’t see straight? At least give me
some
credit.”

Jazz held her tongue.

“I don’t have to prove shit to you or anybody else!” Nikki lashed out. “This is my life and I don’t need anybody’s approval on who I can and can’t fuck! I’m tired of everybody trying to tell me what’s good for me.”

Jazz lowered her head. It was pointless. Her reasoning would only fall on deaf ears. But the longer Nikki continued to fool herself, the less of a friend she was starting to feel. She had to get through
to her and the only way to do that was to be as brutally honest as she knew how to be.

“It’s just that …” Jazz’s beautiful brown eyes weld with tears. She dabbed the pockets of her eyes with her fingers. “I don’t want to see you hurt again. These women … they pretend to love you … but …”

Nikki walked over to Jazz and put her arm around her. “It’s okay, Jazz.”

The tears poured down Jazz’s face like a heavy rain.

“I can’t stand to see you hurt. You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something were to happen to you, knowing that I sat back and watched it happen. I’ve had horrible dreams, Nikki. And they scare me.” She didn’t bother wiping the tears that continued to stream down her cheeks. She wanted her friend to see how worried and scared she was for her. How dangerous this game was that she was playing.

Nikki hugged Jazz tight and then looked her in her crying eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Jazz. I’ve moved on from Dream and I’m sure she’s moved on from me.”

“Dear God I hope so,” Jazz said through the tears. “I really hope so.”

D
ream

There was way too much pussy in Detroit
, Michigan to be sprung and caught up over one tired ass simple bitch like Nikki, Dream concluded. Yes, she loved Nikki with all her heart. She was actually the first woman she’d ever invested her feelings into. She had taken her to meet her mother, even thought about marrying the hoe. But all that fairytale happy ending bullshit just went out the fucking window five minutes ago, right along with a fat ass rubber dick for her to suck along with the exit. Dream would have to deal with the emotional upset from the betrayal later because right now, she needed to focus on the matter at hand.

Her blood felt like
hot lava frying underneath her skin. There was an indescribable amount of anger coursing throughout her body, feeding her psychotic mental state. Dream knew how the game went. She wasn’t only a member, she was the fucking president. So to be gamed and played for a sucker by Nikki of all people, made her feel like a complete fool.

Her mother
had begged her not to leave the house last night without taking her medication but Dream wouldn’t listen. She had seen how upset Dream was when she’d walked through the door blue and bloodied with a swollen lip and two black eyes. The left eye practically closed shut. She had told her mother she’d been beaten by two men. Lied about it being a hate crime. Her mother wanted her to call the police to report the incident but she refused. Instead she told her she was going to go see her girlfriend who had also been beaten.

But had Dream stayed
home, she never would have had to cut out the window screen in the guest bedroom that Nikki was notorious for leaving open. She never would have had to camp out in the closet and watch and hear Nikki and Cheryl making out all night long until wee hours of the morning. Dream was sickened by it all. She felt she’d been butchered and robbed in her own house. All the love, trust, and respect that she had for Nikki, vanished. Leaving her feeling nothing but rage and vengeance.

Had Dream followed her mother’s advice and
taken the Lithium to stabilize her mood, there was an 80% chance she would have been able to let it all ride. That she wouldn’t have snapped. That she wouldn’t have been so willing and prepared to do what she was about to do now.

“This bitch all by her lonesome. Let’s
see how bad she is without her clique,” Dream said cockily as she followed Cheryl at a two-car distance out of Nikki’s neighborhood. They made a right onto the service road where Cheryl picked up speed, Dream right on her tail. There was no way she would have recognized the driver in the tailing vehicle. Not with the large silver sun visor still in the window. Dream had left it there intentionally. It was a miracle she managed to see the road through the tiny crack above.

Dream raised the volume and the rapper’s lyrics cheered her on.

“Who the fuck she think I am?” Dream yelled psychotically.

Cheryl switched lanes, oblivious to the impending threat riding her trail.

Dream’s cell phone buzzed across the dashboard. It was her mother. She let the call go to voicemail. Two minutes later it danced across the dashboard again. She snatched it up, reciting the foul lyrics from memory. The caller display revealed her therapist’s name and number. She tossed the phone to the passenger seat and turned the volume up as high as it would go.

“Fuck this bitch! You wanna show out and shit. Yeah, bitch, I got you now. I’m going
to have the last fucking laugh!” she cackled.

Dream pressed her foot down on the gas, taking her mother’s new Cadillac from 60 mph to 75 in no time. Cheryl’s rearview must have given her warning of the danger lurking behind because she signaled to get into the right lane.
It must have been fate because there wasn’t a car in mirror sight preventing Dream from doing the same.

Cheryl finally looked beh
ind her and then straight ahead, trying to pick up speed but the car in front of her wouldn’t allow it.

Dream got a quick second glimpse in her rearview. The slightly tinted prescription eyeglasses concealed her murderous eyes, but her ballooning lip, which was twice the size it had been last night was obvious for all to see.
She looked like a clown. It drove her mad. So mad she floored the pedal and sent Cheryl and her bike spinning fifteen feet in the air and back down to the middle of the freeway.                 

J
azz

It was late and Jazz was on her last client.
All the other stylist were gone, including the nail technician. She walked over to the hairdryer area. Hot pink and black hairdryers with the words
Touch of Jazz
, was scripted in silver bling on each one of them. A 52-inch flat screen hung in a corner for all of her guests to see. It was the third in the entire shop. She also had complimentary snacks and beverages over by the Jazzy Bar, which was the manicurist’s area. And what her clients appreciated the most about the elegant atmosphere was the friendly atmosphere and terrific customer service. They were the best at that they did and the certificate hanging on the window reflected that. They had been voted for best hair salon in Detroit by Geechee Magazine for the fifth time in a row.   

Jazz was proud of her accomplishments at twenty-nine. Although she didn’t graduate and finish school like she had intended, she still managed to make something out of herself. With the help of her best friend who was also the p
roperty manager of the building, she was able to lease the 2000 square feet of space for less than half of what any other tenant would have had to pay. God was good but she knew it was her mother that was sitting right next to him in heaven, begging him for favor over her child.

So every time Jazz walked into her shop she knew her mother was in heaven smiling from ear to ear as she knitted away, saying, “
That’s my Jazzyln
.”

Jazz was
almost about to raise the dryer top and check Delana’s hair when she saw that the woman’s face was flooded in tears.

“Delana, sweetie, are you okay?” Jazz’s brows folded in and she touched Delana’s shoulder.

Delana shook her head as more tears seemingly rushed down her rosy cheeks. She batted her long false lashes and with her lips pressed together, she tried to tell Jazz what was wrong, but her words were trapped between her teeth.

Jazz turned off the dryer, lifte
d the top, and helped Delana up from the chair. She looped her arm into hers and walked her back over to the chair. Had Jazz not been her support, Delana would have fallen to the floor. She could barely uphold her thin fragile body.

When Jazz finally got her in the
chair, she began to console her.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Delana.
If it’s something you want to talk about, you know that I’m here.”

Delana responded with a head nod.

Jazz knew the look of sorrow all too well. It had become a second skin when she was home alone, thinking about her mother Janice, Solo, Nikki, life, and her own personal battles. “Do you want me to finish or would you rather come back in the morning?” Jazz hated doing hair on Sundays because that was her personal day, but she would do it for Delana who had been coming to her for two years now.

Delana
said nothing. Only sat as though she were numb.

“Okay. Well I’ll try
to make it quick,” Jazz said.

As Jazz did Delana’s hair in silence, she watched Delana constantly scroll through and reply to text messages that bombarded her cellphone all at once. In the mirror, Jazz could tell by the look on Delana’s face that the news was worse than earlier. She began to cry harder. So hard her head kept falling forward.
Jazz curled the last curl

and exhaled.

“
I’m all finished.”

Delana didn’t bother looking in the mirror as she would have normally.

“Delana, let me drive you home. You can’t drive like this.”

Delana
didn’t refuse the offer. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and Jazz reached in her cabinet and pulled out a Kleenex. She handed it to Delana. She wiped her eyes and nose but the loud wail that had finally escaped her mouth, produced more tears. Her rainbow colored bracelets and matching earrings shook with every tear that she purged.

Jazz
wished she could help her. She tried her best to pack up quickly. She turned off the stove and gathered all of her things. Afterwards, she turned off all the televisions and lights. When she came back to the front, Delana was already standing by the door. Her hand over her head.

“I can’t believe she’s gone.”

That was the last thing Delana said before walking out of the salon. Jazz activated the shop’s alarm and locked the door behind her.

Good thing she had parked directly in the front because it was dark out and her shop wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods.

Jazz and Delana got into the car. Delana’s tears wouldn’t let up.

Jazz didn’t want to pry. She knew it was none of her business but there was something inside of her that compelled her to reach into her glove compartment and pull out the Bible her mother had given her before
she died.

“Do you mind if I pray for us right now
, Delana?” When Delana nodded her head, Jazz proceeded. She held the Bible in her left hand and took Delana’s hand into her right. Delana’s yellow skin was flushed red. Both of the women bowed their head.

“Dear Lord we come to you …” Jazz began.