“Are you laughing at me, Darryl?”
“No, I’m just tripping. I feel like a high-school kid getting ready for his first date.”
“A high-school kid?” I was confused by his comment.
“Well, yeah. Not because of the time we’re meeting. I’m not trippin’ about that. I think you’re different, that’s all. You’re pleasant to talk to, you have a good sense of humor, and you have standards. Most women aren’t like that. For that reason alone, I’m just anxious to get to know more about you.”
“I don’t know about all that,” I replied.
“No, I’m just saying—”
“Well, Darryl, thank you for the compliment,” I interrupted. “I’m still not going to change my mind about the time,” I replied, giggling.
He laughed along with me.
Several minutes later, we ended our conversation for the night. I was really feeling him—the things he said were so comforting. Not one time did he try to slip in a perverted line or bring up materialistic things. He was sort of laid-back and smooth.
I got up to shower before bed. When I looked in the mirror, I realized that I had to do something about my hair before my date with Darryl. I knew Tangie and Stephanie normally got their hair done every Saturday at a friend’s salon. Usually I went to Supercuts in the mall for a trim, but you had to make an appointment at least a week in advance.
Before going to bed, I called Stephanie to ask abouth her hair appointment for Saturday. After about four rings and no answer, I hung up and called Tangie, who answered the phone like she was in the middle of some intense fucking.
“Yeah,” she answered, breathing heavily.
“Damn, girl. What’s going on at your place? Is Todd over there?”
“Uh-uh, just me. What’s up?”
“Sorry to call so late, but are you and Stephanie getting your hair done this Saturday?”
“Yeah.”
“Good—I need my hair done for my date with Darryl. Do you think you can get your girl to squeeze me in?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure she can,” Tangie replied in a rush.
“Great—so what time—”
“Just be at Stephanie’s house around eight A.M.,” she interrupted before hanging up.
What the hell was that all about? I thought. That was typical Tangie, doing God knows what with God knows who.
On Saturday I arrived at Stephanie’s house right at seven-thirty. This was the normal meeting place since Stephanie lived closest to the salon.
I walked through the living room, heading toward the den. I could hear the TV as I got closer. When I turned the corner, I saw Stephanie sitting on the couch putting clothes on Brandon.
“Hey, girl,” I said as I walked toward her.
She looked up. “Hey.”
I sat down closest to Brandon. “Where’s Tangie?”
“She just called. She should be pulling up any minute.”
“Good—I’m ready to do something with this hair,” I said, running through it with my fingers.
“What? Girl, please. You got that straight, white-girl hair. All you have to do is just wash and trim the split ends, Ms. Supercuts,” she teased.
I giggled. “No, I don’t. I need to do more than that.”
“Look at my hair,” Stephanie said, rubbing across her head. I need a serious perm.”
“I think I need one, too,” I joked.
“Whatever, Cajun girl,” Stephanie replied, laughing.
Minutes later, Tangie appeared, wearing a baseball cap. “Hey, are you two ready to get this thing started?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “What’s with the ball cap?”
“Girl, I just woke up and got dressed. I didn’t even touch my hair. Why bother when I’m about to get it hooked up, anyway? I’m going to get me some braids so I won’t have to keep dealing with my hair in the morning. Just wake up, shake them out, and head to work.”
We all started toward the front door.
“Hey, I’ll meet you two in the car. I want to make sure Curtis has everything for Brandon.” Stephanie said.
Tangie and I walked outside, passing Curtis and a group of guys in the front yard.
“You guys about to leave?” Curtis asked.
“Yeah, as soon as your girl comes out,” I replied.
Curtis looked in the direction of the front door before walking toward it, going inside as Tangie and I got in my car. Minutes later, Stephanie came outside and got in the backseat with a slight frown on her face.
“Girl, you okay?” Tangie asked.
Stephanie took a deep breath and turned toward Tangie. “Girl, sometimes that damn Curtis can be a pain in my fucking ass. My horoscope said some tempers would flare today and it’s starting early.”
“Girl, you still reading that horoscope shit every day?” Tangie said.
“You didn’t think it was shit when it helped you out with your divorce,” Stephanie replied.
“I didn’t need a horoscope to tell me my marriage was in chaos. That bastard showed his true colors way before you tried to get me to listen to that horoscope bullshit.”
I laughed out loud.
“What’s Curtis tripping about now?” I asked.
“He got all upset ’cause I asked him to go to the store and pick up some things for Brandon. All he wants to do is hang out with those thugs all day.”
Tangie smirked and turned her head. I kept my eyes focused on the road.
“He can at least give up five minutes of being around them to take care of his son,” Stephanie continued.
There was silence as we continued on. I looked over at Tangie who was biting down on her lip.
“Let me call him and make sure—”
“Stephanie!” Tangie shouted. “I’m not trying to hear that shit, okay? Don’t let that petty shit ruin your day. Better yet, our day, over this bullshit. Brandon will be okay. You have your way of taking care of him and Curtis has his way. What you need to be worried about is getting that shit on your head done, more than anything else.”
I laughed, caught off guard by her comment.
Stephanie dropped her head for a moment before looking up with a slight smile on her face. “You’re right, girl. You’re absolutely right.”
“Now turn the radio up, Mya, and let’s kick this day off right,” Tangie continued.
When we got to the hair salon, we opened the door to see torn-up heads everywhere. It’s a good thing men don’t come here and try to pick up women. Seeing this would make the entire gay population in Atlanta skyrocket.
I had been to this salon a few times but had never had my hair done here. The owner’s name is Peaches. She is a childhood friend of Tangie and Stephanie who started out doing their hair from her bedroom when they were in high school and developed enough clients to open her own salon. Peaches’s salon was unlike any that I’d ever encountered before. We have ghetto salons in New Orleans but this salon took the cake. It was mostly filled with women there to air their dirty laundry.
Tangie had called