Retribution (7 page)

“I can't leave the shop. So how about we just meet here after the shop closes, when everyone's gone? Looks like the last appointment scheduled today is at seven. So come through around nine. Everyone should be gone by then.”

“Okay. See you then.”

“Oh, wait,” I quickly say before she hangs up. “Have you heard about JT? I overheard Stax telling Jasper last night that no one's seen or heard from him since last week.”

Silence.

“Hello? Mona?”

“Pasha,”—her voice cracks—“I gotta get off this line. I'll talk to you tonight.”

“Oh, okay I'll—”

The line goes dead.

Mmmph. That's strange.
I shrug it off. “Oh well,” I say, picking up the salon's phone on the third ring. “Good morning, Nappy No More. This is Pasha speaking.”

“Pasha,” the voice on the other end says, sounding depressed and pitiful. I roll my eyes, staring down at the caller ID. It's Felecia. She's calling from a number I'm not familiar with. “Pasha, the least you could do is accept my calls. I can't believe you'd believe
some ghetto-trash bitch over
me
. That's so fucked up. You're my flesh and blood.”

I frown. “Bitch, you must be on that shit, or have you forgotten that it was
flesh
and
blood
that fucking kicked my back in. So, ho, please. Save that shit for the next bitch. Now what do you want, Felecia?”

“We need to talk.”

“Really? You think?”

“Yes. About you firing
me.
About you letting Cassandra's messy-ass come between us. You know that bitch loves to keep drama going. I would never kick your back in the way that lying bitch says I did.”

I laugh sarcastically. “Oh, please. Save it. Cassandra's messy. But she has never been one to
lie
or make up shit on anyone. She knew a whole lot more than she should have known and it's shit that she could have only gotten from you.”

“But how you gonna think
I'm
the one who told her that shit? Anyone who worked at the salon could have told her all that shit. And you know it. It coulda been Shuwanda or Alicia for all you know. Them bitches stayed talking about you behind your back.”

“Bitch, lies. It was you. Admit it.”

“Pasha, you're going to think what you want no matter what I say, so go ahead and think it. All I want to know is, why you denied my unemployment?”

“Excuse you?
You
talk shit about
me
behind my fucking back—at, and outside of, the salon, then
think
I'm going to sponsor you sitting home on your ass at my expense. Bitch, suck a dick! I don't think so! I financed you long enough. So yeah, I shut your claim down. Appeal the shit.”

“I thought we were better than this, Pasha.”

“Really? Is that what you thought?
Before
or
after
you told Cassandra that Jasper beats my ass? Or was it before you told her that I was probably out sucking a bunch of niggas' dicks. That is what
you
said to her, isn't it?”

“But you haven't even given me a chance to explain my—”

I go off, shutting her ass down. “Whore, you can't explain shit to me, you fucking trifling-ass backstabbing bitch. If you had been a loyal bitch from the rip, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Your messy ass would still be here working and we'd still be family. But, nooooo. You out and about running your motherfucking mouth, putting my business out in the streets, then grinning all up in my motherfucking face. So fuck you. I'm going to keep fighting your unemployment claim. Let Andre sponsor your ass, bitch.”

“That's fucked up, Pasha.”

“No, hun. You being a backstabbing bitch is what's fucked up. Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do. Don't call my numbers again, Felecia. And if you even think about showing your two-faced ass anywhere near my salon, I'm going to beat the skin off your face.” I hang up on her ass just as my first appointment walks through the door.

I can already tell it's going to be one long-ass day.

The past is who I was. The present is who I've never wanted to be…

A
t five minutes to ten, Persia saunters through the door with a delicious-looking mocha-colored man with spinning waves in tow. I blink. They're holding hands. But what really makes my knees buckle is when I see this fine specimen of a man lean in and kiss her on the lips before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs out in the waiting area.

In all the years I've known Persia, she's never been one to show any kind of public display of affection with anyone other than her sisters. And even that is a rarity. Persia has always come off as emotionless. Detached. So seeing her waltzing in smiling and holding the hand of a man definitely takes me by surprise. Then, again, it's been years since I've seen her with a man; let alone one of her own.

“Hey, Cuz,” I say, smiling and opening my arms as she makes her way toward me. We embrace, faces pressed cheek to cheek, tossing air kisses. I step back, taking her in. She's wearing a pair of Roberto Cavalli jeans, a cute white form-fitting blouse and a pair of gray Gucci animalier heels. Her plush hobo bag is hanging in the crook of her arm. “You look fabulous.”

“Thanks. So do you. Hell, you always look good, girl. And them
diamond boulders you have in your ears are gorgeous. All that bling can blind a blind man, girl.” She takes a seat in my chair, placing her bag up in her lap.

“It's about time you got in here to let me handle this hair, girl,” I say, as I snap the cape around her neck, purposefully not acknowledging the four-carat diamond studs she's referring to. They're one of Jasper's most recent guilt gifts after I told him to pack his shit and be out of my house by the time I got home from the salon the day Booty made her public announcement that he and Felecia fucked.

“Girl, I know. It's been a long while since I've been here.” I ask her what she wants done. Her dark brown hair hangs past her shoulders. She tells me she wants a change; that she's ready for a new look. “Give it to me short and sassy, girl. I want it all cut off.”

“Say what? Are you serious, girl?” I run my hands through her luxurious hair, massaging her scalp. “You know I've been dying to lay this hair out.”

She chuckles. “Well, today's your lucky day. I'm looking for a change.”

I lean in and whisper, “Would this change have anything to do with that fine man sitting out there in the waiting area?”

She grins. “Wellll, uh, I'm not going to say he has
every
thing to do with it. But he definitely plays a part in it.”

“Good for you, cuz. It's about time you settled down.”
And got yourself a man of your own.
“I'm happy for you.”

“Thanks. Pasha, I'm telling you. If someone would have told me two years ago that I would be involved with a man eleven years younger than me, I would have laughed in their face.” I ask her how old he is. “He'll be twenty-five in three months.”

I turn her chair around facing the mirrors. “And what's his name? And when am I going to be officially introduced to him?”

“His name is Royce.” She pulls her phone out of her bag and sends him a text to come to the back. A few minutes later, I see him as he walks toward my station. All eyes are on his tall, lean frame. He's dressed in a pair of loose-fitting designer jeans that hang slightly off his narrow waist, but not enough to show his underwear. A Gucci belt keeps them from falling around his knees. “Baby, I want you to meet my cousin, Pasha. Pasha, this is my boo, Royce.”

The shit the three of them had going on in the sheets is all too messy and confusing to keep up with. I'm sure she thinks I don't know that she and her sisters fucked him together. Or that the three of them had been fucking Porsha's fiancé for months until he decided he no longer wanted to dick the three of them down because he'd caught feelings for Porsha, and wanted to spend his time exclusively with her. Felecia told me about their sexapade with Royce. But it was Jasper who told me about them fucking Porsha's man, too—news he'd gotten from Desmond whom Paris had shared the information with. I tell you niggas gossip worse than bitches.

Royce extends his hand. I glance at his long slender fingers, then into his almond-shaped eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he says, revealing straight white teeth as he smiles. There's a hint of a Caribbean accent in his tone.

“Likewise,” I say to him. “You must be one special kind of man to keep my cousin's attention.”

Persia waves me on. “Girl, please. Not a word. This man has my undivided attention, trust. Baby, why don't you come back and pick me up in like an hour. I don't want any of them young hoes sitting out in that waiting area trying to entice you.”

He laughs. “You know I only got eyes for you, baby.” He leans over and kisses her on the lips, making it clear to every bitch in the room that he's off-limits. I grin.

Persia's face lights up. “Good answer. I'll see you when you get back.” We all watch as he swaggers out. The whole back area is quiet until he walks out the door.

Then it's on. They all go in…

“Giiiiiirl, he's fine as hell,” one customer sitting in my stylist Kendra's chair says. Kendra was hired a few weeks after I fired Alicia's ass. Alicia could do the hell out of some hair. But, after her man, Chauncey, coming up in here and beating her ass down in my office, she had to go. He beat her ass so bad I thought he was going to kill her. She got carried up out of here on a stretcher and his ass got hauled off in handcuffs. That whole scene was out of control.

“Oooh, yes lawd,” another one chimes in. “No harm, girl, but he looks like he beats it up in the bedroom.”

Persia lips slip into a sly grin. “Not a word. A woman never kisses and tells.”

“Mmmmph. Girl, you don't have to say a thing. I saw how he was walking. I can spot a little-dick nigga a mile away. And there ain't nothing little about him.”

“How old did you say he was?” someone else asks.

“He'll be twenty-five.”

“And how old are you?” another client wants to know.

“Thirty-six.”

“Girl, do you,” Rhodeshia, another one of my newest stylists, says, butting into the conversation like she always does. I don't know why bitches feel the need to always be in the middle of someone else's business. “Ain't nothing like getting it in with a young stud. I'm twenty-six and I like all of my boyfriends under twenty-one. My baby's father's ass is nineteen. Well, he was seventeen when we first got together. I thought he was a lil older though.
But, mmmph. The nigga rocked in them sheets like he was a grown-ass man. I love 'em young.”

I blink. I had no clue this bitch was a cradle robber. Then again, why should I be surprised?

“Oooh, girl,” the client in her chair says, waving her hand in the air. “I can't with you. Your ass tryna do a bid.”

A few people laugh. I shake my head. I hired Rhodeshia about a week after I fired Shuwanda's grimy-ass. That's another two-faced bitch I'd like to stomp a hole in if I thought I could get away with it. She was right along with Felecia talking shit about me behind my back. But how she fucked up is, she was running her mouth to a few of her clients. Problem is, she didn't think any of them would ever come back and tell me the shit the bitch used to say.

“Girl, you ain't heard this from me,” one of her clients said to me, walking into my office one night. “But you better watch Shuwanda's ass. Between you and me, she's one messy bitch. That bitch is calling you a dick-sucking freak behind your back. Saying some guy walked up in your salon and wanted you to suck his dick and you didn't do shit, but stand there and let him disrespect you, girl. Now I don't know if what she's saying is true or not. All I know is, it isn't right. Then she said she believed him when he said you sucked one of his boys off in his car while he was driving. I know she does the hell out of my hair, but I don't like the shit's she's been saying. I thought you should know what kind of people you have in your space.”

My heart leapt into my throat. However, I learned a long time ago to not immediately respond to shit people tell you. Truth is, I had sucked plenty of niggas off in their cars at one time or another. But I
never
did that shit while they were driving. That's the shit I'd only done with Jasper. Not that
that
makes it any better.

Then she added, “I'm not one to gossip. But I like you. And all I'm saying to you is, watch her. Don't let her know you got this from me. But, word on the street is, she's also skimming money from you. And I can't stand a thieving-ass bitch…”

I thanked her for the 4-1-1. Then the next day, I confronted Shuwanda's ass. And the bitch said with a bunch of attitude, “Yeah, I said it. And what?”

“Bitch, you're fired! Pack your shit and get the fuck out of my salon.” I didn't even bother asking her about the money she was supposedly stealing from me. It didn't matter. She talked shit the whole way out the door. Called me every name in the book. But the bitch kept it moving. Lucky for her she didn't try to bring it to me. Otherwise I would have rolled up my sleeves and introduced her to the old me, then dropped her jaw.

Exactly what I'm gonna do to Felecia's dumb ass.

Anyway…Rhodesia can do the hell out of some hair. And she can slay the shit out of braids, too. Girlfriend stays booked. And she keeps that paper flowing in real heavy. So, at the end of the day, I don't care who she's fucking. As long as she keeps my cash register lined and keeps any drama she might have at home, we're good.

I lean in and whisper into Persia's ear, “Are you and your sisters still man swapping?”