Too Close for Comfort (20 page)

“What are you saying, Aunt Gayle?” Celeste asked.

“What?—Did I stutter?—Get out, both you
and
your mama!”

Paige put her hands on Jackie's shoulder. “Ma, don't let them upset you. It's not even worth getting your pressure up.”

“Sweetie, my pressure is fine. I'm going into my bedroom and take my shoes off. My feet are killing me.” Jackie turned and added, “Make sure they get everything out of that guest bedroom and let me know when they're gone.”

“We don't wanna be here in this stanky-ass house, no way. Who the hell does she think she is?” Ms. Lucille yelled. “She's right—Get your stuff, Gayle; you can come and stay at our house! The nerve of her . . . How you gonna say you work at the church and kick your own sister out while she sick?—That's a heathen for you!”

Slap
!

The hit came so fast, if Paige hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would've sworn it didn't happen. She looked to her mother and then to Ms. Lucille, who had been knocked back down to the sofa.

“Oh, hell naw! Kasey, call the damn police. She done assaulted me!”

“Get out my house, now! Or I'm gonna call the police! Believe me, there's more where that came from. I got almost seven years of ‘whup ass' built up for you. For years, you treated my daughter like dirt, and I didn't say nothing, because it wasn't my place. But now, you're in my house, and you nor your sloppy daughter-in-law is gonna be in here disrespecting her in my house! Get out, get out, I say. Don't make me go straight ‘Madea' on y'all up in here—I got a gun, Gayle, you know that; you betta tell them.”

Paige didn't know whether to laugh or be scared of her mother's behavior. It was so unreal that it was comical to her. Aunt Gayle and Celeste hightailed it down the hall. Paige could hear her aunt yelling at Celeste to hurry and get the hell out because Jackie had lost her mind,

“You two had better go wait in the car,” Paige told Ms. Lucille and Kasey.

They were still standing there, not knowing whether to move or not.

Jackie opened the door as a hint.

They wobbled out together, arm in arm.

Within seconds, Celeste and Aunt Gayle were coming back down the hall, bags in arms, at a record pace.

“I can't believe you're doing this, Jackie! You know I'm sick,” Aunt Gayle told her.

“Yeah—sick in the
head
. And so is your daughter—God bless both of you.”

“Don't worry, Mama, we can go stay at Meeko's,” Celeste said, tears streaming down her face. She looked over at Paige as if she had some support. “I guess you'll get a good laugh out of this one.”

Paige laughed. “You damn right about that.”

“Yaya, here are the pictures I downloaded. They all are really nice. I thought Taryn was the best that was out there; now looking at these, I don't know,” Camille teased, handing Yaya the envelope.

“I'm flattered, but I will say
T
is the best. She is the one that taught me everything I know,” Yaya told her.

“Yeah, I know that, but you took everything she taught you and took it to another level—that's what being the best is all about. You have to be willing to learn and then be smart enough to build upon it.”

Yaya looked at her. Camille constantly impressed her and she respected her more and more each time they talked.

“Oh, I placed another Carol's Daughter order this morning. We were running low, and I didn't want us to be out of stock.”

“We just did a big order last week. There was a box still in the storage room. Did you put all of that out?” Yaya flipped through the pictures.

“Yeah, I put that out a couple days ago. I've been recommending products to customers, and they've been selling like hot cakes. I'm telling you, we should add the fact that we're a local retailer to the fliers and ads; it'll bring people through the door.”

“That's a great idea. Why don't you call over to the print shop and set that up for me?”

“I actually designed a flier myself... if you want to check it out and let me know what you think,” Camille said, reluctantly.

“I would love to see it. Look, I'm open to any ideas you have about the salon. We're a growing business, and you're a valuable asset to us.” Yaya smiled.

“Uh, I don't think so.” Taryn walked into Yaya's office. “This is my personal assistant, thank you.”

“I've been thinking Camille may be better suited as our full-time receptionist and head buyer.” Yaya smiled.

“Are you serious? I would love that!”

“What am I supposed to do for a personal assistant?” Taryn frowned at Yaya.

“She can still do both jobs. Hell, she's been doing both for the past two weeks now that Celeste's ass has been AWOL. Now she'll be getting two checks instead of one.”

“Can I, Taryn? Please? I know I can do both.”

“I know you can too, Camille. You're going to do great things here. That's why I brought you on board when I did. I knew it was only a matter of time before my so-called partner and best friend saw the light.” Taryn smiled. “Now, you think you can go get a sister a smoothie from down the street?”

“Not on company time, I don't think so,” Yaya said. “She'd better go answer that phone and take that money from the customers.”

“I'll bring you a smoothie back too, Yaya. I know Jetty Punch is your favorite.”

“See, that's why I hired her, Taryn. She's beautiful, talented, and brilliant. Reminds me of someone else, huh?” Yaya winked.

“Yeah,” Taryn told her. “Me.”

“I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Taryn sat in the chair in front of Yaya's desk, threw her head back and groaned, “Whhhhh-hyyyyyyyyy?”

“What's wrong,
T
?” Yaya sighed, sensing her best friend's stress.

“I need a drink. What's up with a girls' night at the crib? You down?”

“Why the hell not? I don't have a life after the salon closes anyway,” Yaya told her.

“I'll let Monya know. I'm done for the day at six, so I'll go home and get everything ready. Are those your latest pics? Let me see.”

Yaya passed the pictures to Taryn.

They looked at them together, talking about the different make-up techniques and styles Yaya used in them. Taryn got a kick out of the pictures from Diesel's party.

“I told you, it was wild!”

“This must be the girl named Magic you were telling me about.” Taryn pointed. “She's gorgeous!”

“Yeah, that's her. She lives in ATL. I told her I would try and get her some work. She's definitely not shy, and she has the personality to go a long way.”

“Look at Diesel with his fine ass.” Taryn laughed. “He is still crazy as hell, I see.”

“Yeah, he is. He still hasn't changed. He asked about you. I told him you were in love with Lincoln, though.”

“Yeah, right. Not happening.”

“Why not?”

“I'll tell you tonight. Who is this woman? She's pretty. I think I know her.”

Yaya looked at the picture of Natalie and smiled. “She's a special client of mine.”

Taryn looked down at her watch. “I gotta get ready for my next client. Are you hanging these on the wall outside?”

“Yeah. I'm about to come and put them up now.” Yaya gathered the pictures and her stapler.

They walked into the main area of the salon. Yaya walked over to what was now known as the “wall of fame.”

Camille had collected all of the pictures Taryn, Monya, and Yaya had of all the people they had worked with over the years and made a huge collage.

Yaya took the pictures she had in her hand and added them to the group. She took a step back and looked at the pictures, which included dancers, singers, rappers, actresses, models, men, women, and children from all races, all walks of life.

There was one particular picture that stood out. To Yaya it was her best work ever and meant more than all the faces combined. Natalie Frazier, now Natalie Doles, stared back at her, smiling brightly and confirming something Yaya knew a long time ago, but no one else believed, except for Taryn—this was her calling.

“Yaya, you have a call,” Camille said, later that afternoon.

Yaya had just completed a facial and was ready to leave for the day. “Hello,” she said, tiredly into the phone.

“Hey, Yaya. It's Celeste. I'm surprised that wench let me talk to you.”

Yaya ignored Celeste's comment. “What do you want, Celeste? I'm tired and I'm trying to get outta here.”

“Oh, okay. I was just calling to see if I can come and get my check because—”

“What check?—You don't have a check, Celeste.”

“What do you mean, I don't have a check?”

“Celeste, a check is something you get when you come to work. You haven't been working, so you don't get paid.”

“But, Yaya, you know my mother's sick, and then we had to move a little ways out. I don't have a car, so I can't really get there like I want to. It's not like I don't want to get there.”

“None of that is my problem, Celeste. I'm sorry.”

“Well, can you loan or give me some money like you did before? I don't have—”

“No, Celeste, I'm sorry.” Yaya glanced up and saw Camille trying to act like she wasn't listening. “I've gotta go.”

“Wait, Yaya . . .”

“What?”

Before Taryn could hear what Celeste was saying, she took the phone out of Yaya's hands.

“Celeste, this is Taryn. Look, listen to me, honey—you're fired. So unless you're calling up here to schedule an appointment, then don't call back—Good-bye.”

“
T
, that was cold,” Yaya told her.

Monya was tickled to death.

Taryn put the phone down and shook her head. “That girl has issues.”

“You don't have to tell me,” Camille said.

 

 

Yaya was having more fun than she'd had in a long time. She, Monya and Taryn had polished off two large pizzas, a bag of chips, and two bottles of Muscadet wine.

“Now can we get to the point of evening?” she asked.

Monya reached into the bowl and grabbed a handful of chips. “What's that?”

“Well, it seems that my girl here is having Lincoln issues.”

“Really? I thought things were going well for you two. Do tell.”

“I thought things were going well for us too. You know we've been out a couple of times, had drinks, hung out and played pool. I just assumed things were moving along nicely.”

“And they aren't?” Yaya took another sip of wine.

“Apparently not.”

Monya shrugged. “He just picked you up the other day and you went to dinner.”

“True.” Taryn sighed.

Yaya could see the disgusted look on her friend's face. She knew that something had happened.

“We go to dinner and he tells me that I've become one of his closest friends and how much I mean to him. He says that he can talk to me about anything and how he's tired of living his life the way he's been living. He knows that it's time for him to make some serious changes.”

“What did he mean by that?”

“Well, it turns out that I'm not the only one Lincoln has been hanging out with.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yep. He's been seeing several women, and he's also been sleeping with them too. At this point he even has a couple of women stalking him. His cell phone was ringing so much that he wound up just cutting it off so we could talk.”

“Wow! Did you sleep with him?” Yaya asked.

“Girl, no. That's the thing. All the times we've been out, he's never tried to make a move on me. It's a good thing too, because you two know me—he coulda got it, with his fine ass.”

“Yeah, he is fine,
T
,” Monya agreed. “So where do you fit in all of this?”

“He did say he was ready to change, and he knows what he wants,” Yaya told her; “that has to mean that he wants to settle down with you.”

“I was hoping that's where he was going, but instead, he tells me how I mean too much to him to get involved with now. I'm the only female he can talk to without their being any sexual tension between us. He cares about me too much to be in a relationship with me.”

“Oh no, not again!” Yaya groaned.

“
T
, I don't believe this!”

“I'm telling you,” Taryn told both of them, “it's a curse!”

“No. It's because you ain't make a move on him, Ms. Take-Your-Time-And-Get-To-Know-Him. Once they know you too much, it's over. I'm telling you, you shoulda told him from the jump you were feeling him.” Yaya couldn't help laughing.

Lincoln was the hundredth guy to tell Taryn that he liked her too much as a friend to date her. It was as if she was indeed “man's best friend,” in the literal sense. From high school, Taryn had always developed a special bond with guys she liked. They always ended up liking her as a friend, rather than a girlfriend.

“I guess I should be glad, though. From what I gathered, Lincoln has no qualms about who he dicks down. You should hear the stories he told me. Maybe I should be happy I'm not one of his conquests.” Taryn poured herself another glass of wine.

“His brother is probably the same way,” Yaya said. “Fine or not, that's why I won't get with him.”

Monya and Taryn looked over at her.

“What?”

Monya smiled. “So you admit you've thought about Fitz, huh?”

Taryn snapped her fingers. “I knew you liked him.”

“No. I said he was
fine
; there's a difference.”

“I don't care what you say—you and Fitz are made for each other. I can see it when you look at each other.” Taryn stared at her.

“
T
, I could never get with him—he's not my type at all; he's short and light-skinned—let's not mention the dreads, the car, the
kid
!”

“We'll see, Yaya. Fitzgerald Webster is your soul mate; time will tell.”

Yaya shook her head in an effort to stop Taryn from talking about it any further, and to rid herself of the image of Fitz's handsome face from her head.