Ruthless (26 page)

I shut the engine, yanking the key out. I gather my things, swinging open the car door.
“Forgiveness
went out the window the day Felecia laid on her back and
screwed
Jasper, so her hatin'-ass could turn around and
screw
me. I love you, dearly, Nana. But I pray that
that
bitch is somewhere burning in hell.”

Suspicions run high when bitches can't keep their stories straight…

“G
irrrrrrrrrrrrrl,
let me tell you,” this string-bean-thin, high-yellow chick with small titties and an apple-bottom ass says, plopping down in Kendra's chair. “The Crack House was
turnt
all the way up Friday night. It was wall-to-wall niggas up in there.” She tosses her honey-blonde, shoulder-length hair to the side. “I met me this fine-ass chocolate nigga who kept buyin' me drinks all night, too.”

My ears perk up at the mention of Friday night, and The Crack House. I tilt Bianca's chair back, placing her head under the spigot, then begin running water through her hair.

Kendra sucks her teeth, snapping the cape around her client's neck. “Dang, I knew I shoulda threw on my clothes and came out. But, none of my corny-behind girls wanted to go. Mmmph. The Crack House keeps it turnt up.”

“Chile, please. Turnt up is right. You missed out on a damn good time. The music was right. The dollars were right. The drinks were plentiful. And, baaaaaabeee, there was a buncha hard, horny niggas up in there tryna get them some wet-wet.”

I roll my eyes, applying shampoo and lathering up Bianca's hair, lightly massaging her scalp. “Mmmm, girl. That feels good,” she says, closing her eyes. “You know the only reason I keep coming
back is for your scalp massages, right?”

I chuckle. “Well, I aim to do whatever it takes to keep clients like you coming back. Besides, you tip good, boo.”

She laughs. “Girl, fingertips like yours are worth every penny…”

“I was backin' this thang all up on him on the dance floor,” I overhear Honey Blonde saying to Kendra. “Oooh, and you know I had to get me a lil' sampler of some'a that beef when I felt how big he was.”

“Ohmygod, heifer, you're such a skank,” Kendra says, laughing. “But do tell. How big was he?”

“Yes, do tell,” another client says as she's getting up from Kenyatta's chair to go sit under one of the dryers. “I ain't getting none at home, so I need something good to fantasize about while I sit under this dryer.”

I quickly glance over toward the front area when I hear the bell to the front door chime as it opens. I immediately recognize her as one of Kenyatta's clients. She stops at the counter to say something to Trish, one of my manicurists, who's covering the desk until her appointment arrives. The music fades as her voice comes over the intercom, requesting for Kelli, one of the salon's eyelash technicians to the front.

I finish washing and rinsing Bianca's hair, then wrapped a towel around her head and sit her up. “Girl, when are you going to hire another office manager?”

I shrug, drying her hair. “Who knows, girl. I haven't really been looking. With all this stuff I have going on right now, an office manager is the last thing on my mind.”

“Girl, you know I understand.” She shakes her head, chuckling. “I thought I'd walk in today and find your protégé at the desk, again, giving us another mini-show.”

She's talking about the day I walked up in here and Booty had taken it upon herself to cover the front desk area. She had the music blasting and was in the middle of the waiting area about to drop it down low to some song playing, talking about she was on break.

I almost passed out seeing all that ass of hers bouncing and clapping. Bianca starts cracking up. “Pasha, girl, you should have seen your face when you walked through the door and saw her performing.”

I shudder, waving her on. “Ugh, please. No, thank you. My stomach was in knots the whole time she sat up there at the desk. All I kept thinking was how much money I was losing. Every time the phone rang, I cringed.”

“Girl, I was sick for you. Another few hours and she would have turned this place out.”

“Ohmygod, yes. Tell me about it. She's many things, but customer-service friendly is not one of them.” We share a hearty laugh. “I don't even want to entertain the thought.”

Kenyatta's client finally makes her way to the back. She greets everyone. I smile and say hello. She takes her seat. “I think I'm going to get the lash extensions after I finish up with you,” she says, setting her purse up on her lap as Kenyatta snaps a cape around her neck.

“Oh, them lash extensions are the business,” Kenyatta says. “And Kelli is no joke. She'll have you walking up out of here runway ready, girl.”

“She sure will,” another client chimes in from another station, getting braids. She's brown-skinned with doe-shaped eyes. “She did mine last week.” She bats her lashes, grinning wide. She has a wide gap between her two bottom teeth. “I love 'em. I don't have to worry about putting on mascara or eyeliner. These bad boys are
every
thing.”

I remind her to make sure she comes in next week for her three-week eyelash touch-up to replace any lashes that might have fallen out, which turns into a mini tutorial on hair and eyelash growth and the eyelash-extension process. By the time I've finished breaking it all down, three more clients have decided to endure the two-hour process for longer, more luscious lashes.

“Ooh, yes, long and luscious, like my new boo's dick,” Honey Blonde says. She clucks her tongue. Then she sticks her tongue in her cheek and starts bobbing her neck.

I frown. Bianca gives me a look through the mirror as Honey Blonde starts going into detail how she gave him head in the club. I glance over toward the lobby and see Mel handing Trish something. A few minutes later the CD playing on the stereo stops, then K. Michele's “My Life” comes through the speakers.

Kenyatta grabs a comb and points it at her. “Ooh, no you didn't, girl!”

Honey Blonde laughs. “Girl, yes, I did. Right there in the club.”

“Trick, lies! Shut your mouth!” Kendra says, shaking her head.

“Lies nothin', boo. You know I don't ever lie 'bout no sex. I sucked him in a corner off from the dance floor while a Meek Mill track was playing. I was good ‘n' drunk. And he was good ‘n' hard. And mmmph. He got to talkin' all this freaky, rough stuff in my ear 'bout how he wanted to take me outside ‘n' fuck the shit outta me.”

“Girl, did you swallow?” Gap Tooth wants to know.

Honey Blonde smacks her lips. “I sure did. I don't play when it comes to giving head, boo, especially when the nigga is fine ‘n' talkin' a buncha freak-nasty shit. And he was really givin' it to me good ‘n' dirty, sayin' how he wanted to knock my tonsils out, then bend me over ‘n' rip off my panties, spit in my booty hole ‘n' pound his dick in it.” She starts fanning herself. “And, mmmph…
was tanked up off them Wet Drawz.”

“Ooooh, yes, girrrrl,” Gap Tooth chimes in, waving a jeweled hand in the air. “Them Wet Drawz will do it.”

Honey Blonde laughs. “Uh-huh, sure will. Them Wet Drawz had my own drawz soaked ‘n' had me soakin' him up real good, too.”

Kenyatta frowns, holding the flatiron in her hand, shaking her head. “I'm done. You sucked off some nigga you just met in the club
and
swallowed his babies?”

“I sure did. And it was damn good, too.”

I shift my eyes around the floor and start humming along to K. Michele singing about her life struggles while everyone on the floor starts talking about dick sucking and dick sizes. I want no part of this conversation.

As I'm putting the finishing touches on Bianca's wrap, she finally gets around to asking about the murders and fire. “You know I don't like asking you too much out here on the floor,” she says, giving me an apologetic look. “I know the walls have lots of ears.”

I wave her on. “Girl, please. It's been all over the news. Police still have no leads. It's a mess.”

“Thank God you and Jaylen weren't there when that happened.”

I close, then open my eyes, slowly shaking my head. I feel myself getting choked up. “Bianca, girl. I don't know what I'd do if anything were to happen to my son. I don't believe in coincidences. Everything happens for a reason.”

She gives me a questioning glance through the mirror.

“Had we been home,” I elaborate, feigning distress. “There's no telling…” I pause, shaking my head. I blink back tears. Fight to keep my composure here on the floor. “Girl, I don't even want to think about what would have happened.”

Her eyes soften. She reaches for my hand and squeezes. “You know I'm here for you, always. And so is Garrett.”

I nod. “I know. And I really appreciate the both of you.”

“Do they at least know what caused the fire?”

I nod. “It was electrical.” Well, that's how Lamar's fire
specialist
made it appear.

“Oooh, wait, wait,” Honey Blonde says all animated. “And I ain't even tell you how I was leaning up against him on the wall, letting him finger me in my butt.”

All the chatter on the floor stops. All eyes are back on Honey Blonde.

“Girl, I can't with you,” Kendra says, shaking her head.

“See now,” Gap Tooth says, wagging a finger at Honey Blonde. “You doin' too much right there, girl. You suckin' dick one minute, then gettin' fingered in yo' ass the next.”

Honey Blonde shoots her a dirty look. “Umm, do I know you, boo? Did I ask you? Yeah, I let him finger-fuck me in my ass. And
what?
Ain't no shame in my game, boo. My name is Raynora Clemmons. I suck dick in the club. And I like fingers in my ass.”

Everyone laughs.

“So Miss Nasty Wet Drawz,” Kendra says. “Does this Mister Fine who you sucked and let finger you in the club have a name?”

“Girl, his sexy ass's name is Legend.” I eye her through the mirror. Kendra wants to know if she went home with him. “Mmmph. You think I didn't. And he tore this wet-wet up real right. I didn't limp up outta his place until the sun came up.”

I blink.
Bitch, lies! You wish you were somewhere getting done right. That was probably your delusional ass calling him for some dick while I was slicing out his balls.

The client in Kenyatta's chair says, “Chile, you sound like my husband's trifling BM. That whore loves anal. She'll pull a butt-plug out of her behind in a heartbeat and doesn't care where she does it. She stays in The Crack House. You probably know her. Cassandra
Simms.”

Ohmygod!

Everyone on the floor says,
“Big Booty?”

She grunts. “Ugh, yes. Don't remind me.”

I literally am in shock. Then again, Booty has so many damn baby daddies, it's hard to keep track of them all. Besides, she's never talked about any of her kids' fathers. And the only one I know of is Julius, a police officer—a fine one, I might add. But I'm not sure which of her kids is his.

Kenyatta spins her around in her chair. “LaQuandra, girl. All this time you were coming down to the other shop I was at, I did not know that your stepson was
her
son. Girl, get out! It's a small world. He's a lil' cutie-pie, too. Looks just like your husband. Wait. Doesn't she have like fifteen kids or something like that?”

“No, ten. But they all wild and bad as hell.”

“Ten kids?” Kendra says, looking up from Gap Tooth's head. “Wait. That chick that comes in here wearing all the hotness with the bangin' body has
ten
kids?”

LaQuandra rolls her eyes, shaking her head. It's clear she's jealous.

“Well, damn,” Kenyatta says, tapering the back of LaQuandra's neck with the clippers. “Which baby daddy is your husband?”

She sucks her teeth. “Isaiah is number seven.”

“I remember you saying how you couldn't stand her,” Kenyatta states, glancing over at me.
Oh, okay, I see you like to be messy, too.
I shake my head.

“Chile, I can't stand her. She is so damn ghetto it's ridiculous. You know she came up into my school trying to turn it up. School hadn't even gotten started good and there was already a problem with her son. She came up into the school trying to bring the ruckus…”

“Girl, noo,” Kenyatta says.

“Chile, yes. I had to forget I was a professional for a minute and step out of my heels and serve her up a real good beat down. We tore my office up. The police dragged her out in handcuffs.” She shakes her head. “It was a mess. I tell you. Chicks like her don't need to have kids.”

“Girl, speaking of hot messes,” Honey Blonde says. “A fight broke out outside the club Friday night and that chick you talkin' about ‘n' like twenty or thirty others all got locked up that night. Somebody said she took it to some nigga's head wit' a club. I didn't see none'a that. But I saw when she pulled out a can of Mace ‘n' maced the shit outta some chick who was supposedly her friend.”

The LaQuandra chick sucks her teeth. “Mmmph. I'm not surprised. Cassandra's a damn rattlesnake. She'll turn on you in a New York minute. You didn't hear it from me. But that messy bitch stays in the middle of shit. She got lucky when that lil' young girl only sliced her face for messing with her man. But it's only a matter of time before someone slices her damn throat.”

I cringe when I see Booty walking through the door. The last thing I need is this escalating into another salon brawl. I hand Bianca a mirror, glancing around everyone's stations. “Okay, y'all let's switch our channels to something a little more upbeat.” My cue for when a client someone is talking about is walking through the door. Booty says something to Mel, then leans over the counter, flipping through the appointment book, like she's running shit.