Second Time Around (4 page)
Read Second Time Around Online
Authors: Darrin Lowery
“Oh yeah, right. That confidentiality thing, right?”
“That's right. Confidentiality prevents me from saying anything.”
“But don't you think I should be in the loop? Shouldn't close friends of the person in question be privy to what's going on?”
“Nice try Gooch, but . . . uh, no.”
“Yeah, but I sent him to you.”
“And I'm grateful for it, brother, but really, I can't talk about it.”
“Okay D, I understand.”
“Cool.”
“So did you get a chance to meet his fiancée yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“Man, D, she's fine as hell, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And she is sexy as an MF in those music videos.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“So tell me, she's the reason that his game dropped off, right?”
“Gucci . . .”
“I know, I know. You really can't talk about it.”
Gucci winked at the other guys in the shop waiting to get their hair cut. Darren smiled and laughed a little because he knew Gucci wouldn't stop probing. That was how things went in the shop. Everyone was in everyone else's business.
Everyone in the shop laughed. Gucci was starving for gossip, as were all the other men. Gucci didn't mention the name of the ballplayer, but he did mention to everyone that Darren was seeing one of his friends who played pro ball.
He also mentioned that Darren was a therapist, and a good one at that. As soon as he mentioned that, women in the shop, getting haircuts for their sons, started to take notice of Darren. One minute he was off the radar. After Gucci let the cat out of the bag, he was on every woman's radar in the shop.
A lot of women came to Gucci's to get their sons hair cut. Many more dressed rather provocatively because they knew men would be there; men with good jobs, as well as the trifling ones and the drug dealers.
Some women came to the shop every week pretty much just to see who was there. Their sons' hair certainly didn't need to get cut every week. Some women came to try and meet the police officers or bus drivers that came. They just wanted a man with benefits. Others came scantily clad to meet the drug dealers. The real mothers that were only there for their children dressed regularly and were often in and out without any conversation with anyone.
One woman in particular, who was drop-dead gorgeous, looked out at Darren's car and then looked at Darren as Gucci was finishing cutting his hair. She looked at him as if she were trying to gather the nerve to speak to him.
The woman was at the shop getting her son's hair cut. She was a beautiful woman with implants so fresh they looked like they were about to pop like a balloon with too much air in them. They sat up so high they looked unnatural.
“Is that your sports car out there?” she asked Darren.
“Yeah, sweetheart, that's mine.”
“You must be making some major paper to drive a whip like that. If you don't mind my asking, how much do you charge?”
Guys in the shop all started looking and smiling at one another. It was obvious to them that the fine young woman was smelling paper, and she was trying to screen Darren to see how much money he made. Darren cleared his throat before speaking.
“My fee is three hundred dollars an hour, love.”
“Three hundred an hour!”
The woman's eyes bugged out some. Her expression didn't say that she was impressed by Darren's fee, but that it was very expensive.
“You can't talk to her in numbers that high, D,” Gucci said sarcastically.
Gucci then spoke directly to the woman, whose name was Karen. She went by the marquee Special K at the local strip club.
“He makes fifteen lap dances per hour,” Gucci said to Karen.
The barbershop erupted with laughter.
“Go to hell, Gucci! How could you say that? My son is right there.” She spoke in a scolding tongue.
“My bad.”
Gucci went back to cutting Darren's hair.
The woman was incensed. She began going off on Gucci.
“I don't know why I always come in here and give you my business, when all you seem to do is poke fun at me!”
She rolled her eyes and if looks could kill, Gucci would have been a victim.
“You come in here because I keep your son's head looking tight.”
“Yeah, but I'm not sure it's worth it if every week you are putting me down or making fun of me.”
Karen spoke with her hand on her hip. She had fire in her eyes. She continued to shoot eye daggers at Gucci, speaking with such rage that Darren thought she might actually try and fight the seven-foot-tall man.
“Maybe you should get a new job. I can't make fun of you if you have a real job.”
“I have a job and right now that job is what puts food on my table.”
“Yeah, but wearing clear heels at night doesn't count as a real job, not a respectable one, anyway. How can you look for any type of respect with an unrespectable job?”
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Gucci high-fived one of the other barbers in the shop. He shot eye daggers back at her. Although he sounded as if he were joking, his looks, his facial expressions, and his body language showed a bit of rage of his own. Other people were too busy laughing to notice his body language, but that was part of what Darren did for a living. So, as everyone watched the beautiful, scorned woman, Darren watched Gucci as they exchanged shots.
“And cutting hair is so damn great?” she snapped with her hand on her hip.
“It's better than doing what it is that you do.”
“I do what I have to do to take care of my family! That's more than half the men in here can say.”
She pointed at a few of the men as she spoke.
The trifling ones were easy to spot. Many of them were getting their own hair cut but their sons' hair was looking a mess. With the trifling men, the only reasons their sons were there was because it was their visitation week with their kids. Also the trifling ones could only afford to either get their own hair cut or their sons' hair cut.
Naturally, being selfish, they opted to get their own hair cut, not thinking that even if they couldn't contribute much, they could at least get their sons' hair cut and save their child's mother that expense. Many of the trifling men spent what little money they did get at the strip club. When the woman pointed at them, Darren noticed many had looks of guilt on their faces.
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“Hold up, you're not going to come up here disrespecting my customers. Everyone in here works.”
“Yeah and everyone in here has been over to the club too.”
“Then that means that everyone in here is helping you to keep food on your table. It's a group effort. The brothers love the kids. They aren't over there for themselves, they come over there for the kids.”
Again there were laughs. Karen was angry and sad at the same time. She looked as if she might even be ready to cry. She was way too pretty to cry. At least to Darren she was. He could tell that she was not proud of her occupation but like she said, it kept food on her table during one of the worst economic times on record.
“Are you finished with my son?” Karen asked one of the other barbers who was cutting her son's hair today.
“Almost,” the other barber said.
“Gucci, I swear to God I'm never coming back in here again!”
“I'm sorry, Special K. I mean Karen.”
More laughs erupted from the patrons.
“Gucci, that's enough” Darren interrupted. “Her shorty's here.”
“You're right, D. My bad, Karen. Seriously, I apologize. You know how we get carried away in the shop here sometimes.”
“I can't believe you. I can't believe that you just played me like that.” She shook her head as if she were hurt, genuinely hurt by the performance that Gucci put on.
Her little boy didn't know what they were talking about. He was a little fella. He was a handsome little man who was getting a fade. He didn't know what anyone was talking about, but he did know that the men in the shop were upsetting his mother. Karen was still scowling. Gucci's words cut deep. The two of them continued to exchange dirty looks.
Darren tried to switch topics.
“So, my name is Darren. And your name is Karen, right? It's nice to meet you.”
Karen continued to cut Gucci evil looks. He stopped playing with her. Darren surmised that they had some type of history together. Only a woman with prior history with a man could shut a man down with one fierce look.
“Yes, my name is Karen.” She shook Darren's hand.
Darren put his head down so Gucci could finish lining up the back.
“By any chance do you know someone that needs to see a therapist?” Darren asked.
“Yeah, my cousin does. But I don't think she can afford three hundred an hour.”
“Does she have insurance?”
“No.”
“Medicaid?”
“No. She doesn't have any benefits.”
Figures, Darren thought to himself. He let out a sigh before speaking.
“Well, I have to do so many pro bono cases per year. I also do a few on a sliding scale. Here is my card.” Darren reached into his pocket to grab a card while Gucci finished lining up the back of his neck.
“What's bono? And what's a sliding scale?”
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Gucci was just about to laugh when Karen cut him another look. It was a look that quickly silenced the gentle giant.
“Pro bono means free.” Darren said. “Sliding scale means that I charge you according to how much money you make. Tell your cousin to call me and we will work something out. Tell her to make sure she tells me that she is the cousin of the woman I met in Gucci's shop.”
Karen seemed relieved and grateful. There was warmth in her eyes that said thank you. When her eyes finished saying thank you, her mouth followed.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
The one barber working on her son had just finished. Karen paid him in singles, which caused a bit more laughter and whispering among the men. She took her son's hand and led him out of the shop. The little man was frowning because he knew the men inside had upset his mother. After she left, many of the men began gossiping about her They talked about how she moved her ass in the club and they each told lies about the things she would do for money at the club. Gucci faked a smile here and there, but it was obvious to Darren that he actually didn't like hearing any of it. It seemed to be one thing for him to poke fun at her, but he didn't seem to appreciate others doing so.
The men in the shop thought Karen was looking at Darren's car because she was trying to get paid. Darren knew as a therapist that many women measure a man's success by the car that he drives. It wasn't a good measuring tool, but was sometimes how things were looked at in the hood. Since he drove a nice sports car, Karen assumed he was a pretty good therapist. When she heard that he had counseled a pro athlete, she figured that he had to be really good at what he did.
Darren knew that Karen was looking for a therapist, either for her cousin or for herself. It was always amazing to him how many people wanted to talk to you once they found out that you were a therapist. Black people loved to talk to therapists . . . for free. Darren thought to himself that Karen would likely give him a call in the next few days.
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“That was nice of you, D. Are you going to see her cousin?” Gucci asked.
“I might.”
“How much are you going to charge her?”
“Her sessions will be free if you tell me what the history between you and Karen is.”
Darren raised an eyebrow as he turned around and looked up at his longtime barber.
Gucci had a look of shock on his face and shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't know what Darren was talking about.
“What? Man, I don't have any history with that girl.”
“Uh-huh, don't forget what I do for a living, playa. What's up with you and Karen?”
Darren looked at Gucci as if to say stop playing.
When it was obvious that there was some history there, and when Gucci confirmed it with a look of guilt written across his face, he became silent. All the barbershop patrons were all ears, waiting on Gucci to respond. It was so quiet in the shop you would've thought the place was closed.
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