Chapter Three
Brushing off Antonio’s negativity, I walked over to my baby and got inside. Immediately I turned down the music that was still blasting from the night before. I loved my car and treated it like a child. It was only a Maxima, but one day I would have something more expensive, so for now I practiced. The interior was black leather, trimmed with dark red as well as red suede on the seats, and I had a TV in the dashboard. My windows and sunroof bordered on being illegal because they were so dark. I also had red neon lights around the bottom and they looked awesome at night. I topped it off with my personalized license plate, which read PAPR CHSR, an abbreviation for “paper chaser.” I flipped through my music collection and decided to play something to get me in the mood. As I pulled off, I turned up the bass and nodded in agreement with my homeboy Plies singing my anthem, “In Love With Money.”
As I made the twenty-five-minute drive from the suburbs to the inner city, I became homesick. Most of the large brick two-story homes reminded me of Detroit. They trashed Detroit on television, but I loved my city and represented it every chance I got. I disliked how the media only took pictures of the slums and ghettos, then put those images in magazines or on television for the world to see. There were still some very nice neighborhoods standing and prominent citizens who lived there. Detroit may not have been as rich and glamorous as other cities, but it made the best of us, and I was proud to call it home.
Before I knew it, I was parking in front of the Candy Shop, where my nail tech Bre’ worked. Placing my Dior shades on, I grabbed my bag and headed inside the salon for my appointment. The place was beautifully done in pink, white, and purple with a huge mural painted across the wall. It depicted women of all ages getting their hair, nails, or makeup done.
“Hey,” I said to Angel, the receptionist, as I walked in. Once I signed my name, I took a seat on one of the white leather sofas with pink and purple accent pillows. Crossing my legs, I picked up one of the magazines from the purple end table beside me.
As I waited, I glanced up occasionally to see that all eyes were on me, and it was starting to piss me off. I pulled out my cell phone and was about to call somebody to make small talk when I noticed a big chocolate nigga walk in and approach the counter to speak to Angel. I looked out the window to peep what he was driving, and my panties got wet when I noticed the customized 2020 745, or “Quarter to Eight,” as we called them back home. It was cocaine white with some big-ass chrome rims shining all the way into the shop. I got up and stood behind him at the counter.
“Hold up, Terry. What can I help you with?” Angel asked me with an attitude.
“Angel, where is Bre’? How long does she expect me to wait? Is there anyone else available?” I played the game of Twenty Questions while the two of them looked back at me. I honestly didn’t want to keep waiting, but I only really approached Angel to get a better look at the chocolate stranger. He resembled Morris Chestnut, only a little taller and a tad more thugged out. I glanced over his attire of tan Polo shorts, brown loafers, white wife beater, and a light blue Ralph Lauren button-up. I was so slick with my shit that I added up his jewelry in my head and came up with the sum of $10,000 before Angel had even answered my questions.
“It might be another ten or fifteen minutes.” She frowned as if she knew what I was doing in my head.
“Okay, well, I’m going to make a phone call really quick, just in case she comes looking for me,” I said and stepped outside. I only walked outside so that I would be there when fine-ass Terry came out of the salon. His ass had a small bank, and I could smell it!
After pretending to be on my phone for way too long in my opinion, I was just about to head back inside when I heard the door open. I smiled a seductive smile as I turned around. The smile quickly faded as he and the girl I presumed was his chick exited the salon. “Thanks, boo, for getting my hair and nails done,” she said and turned to kiss him.
“It ain’t shit to a boss!” he said as he looked at me over her shoulder. I turned back toward the parking lot just as they broke their embrace. I felt defeated that I lost my chance with this one, but I was unfazed nonetheless. I had a thoroughbred at home. Hell, I was checking for this fool just for sport.
“Excuse me,” he said, causing both me and his chick to look up at him.
“Yeah?” I said.
“You dropped this in the shop when you walked out,” he said and handed me a flyer that had a note scribbled on it.
“Thanks,” I said and walked back into the shop, not wanting his girl to trip or suspect anything. I sat down in the same spot I had occupied when I first got there to look over the paper. It read:
You look sexy as hell! I couldn’t holler at you because I’m with ol’ girl, but if you want to fuck with a nigga, hit me up. 513-515 . . .
“Come on, Chanel. Sorry I’m late. My bad, girl,” I heard Bre’ say, and I put the paper back in my bag. Walking toward her station, I dismissed the dirty look Angel was giving me.
“Damn, your ass needs to start being on time!” I said, half joking but half serious.
“I know, boo. My bad! I got caught up with my baby daddy,” she said, smiling, and I frowned. I’d known Bre’ and her baby daddy since my freshman year at Cincinnati State because that was how long she’d been doing my nails. Back then she worked out of her house, and his lazy ass stayed in bed or playing Xbox all day. I knew then that he wasn’t shit and wouldn’t be shit. I didn’t understand why he had her wide open. The nigga couldn’t do shit but give her a wet ass and some babies. He worked as a waiter and drove a Ford pickup truck, a 2010 at that!
“Tell that nigga he be fucking up your money!” I responded as she began to do my pink and white fill-in. I watched her as she put the white and pink acrylic on my natural nails then shape them in a square style.
“I know, but—”
I cut her off with the quickness. “But nothing! It’s one thing to mess with a broke nigga, because that’s your business. You like it, I get it. But it’s another thing when you let him stop your cash flow. Girl, your babies depend on you to bring in the money for food and bills. What will you do if your clients start taking their business elsewhere because you’re always late?”
All Bre’ did was hunch her shoulders, and I could tell I had either hurt her feelings or made her think. “What’s the big plans for today?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“Me, Trina, and Noel will probably hit the mall.”
“That’s what’s up. I’m surprised you ain’t hitting no parties for your birthday.”
“I guess that’s kind of played.” I shrugged my shoulders. “If I happen to go, then I do, but it ain’t like back when I started college and couldn’t wait until the next party or ice breaker,” I said, thinking back to my younger days.
“Those were the days. Now I got kids and bills.” Bre’ shook her head. “Do you want kids?”
“Hell no. I ain’t fit to be nobody’s mama right now, but maybe down the line when I get settled.”
“Damn, Chanel, how much more settled could you be? You have Dom, a nice salary, a beautiful house, and a college degree.”
“All that is true, but I need more. I have a nice salary, but it could be better. I have a beautiful house, but it too could be better, and Dom is Mr. Right, but I need him to be Mr. Richer!” We cracked up laughing for a few minutes at that one. Then she asked me, if I did get pregnant, what would I want it to be, and what would I name it?
“I definitely want a girl! It’s too rough for dudes out here. They have to be balling. Even though I will raise a boss, I don’t want my son under that kind of pressure. When I have my daughter, I’ll name her Cash’aye, Mercedes, Cashmere, or something expensive. Hell, I don’t know.” I giggled.
“You and your mama with those names,” she said, buffing my nails. I laughed because I knew she was referring to my and my sister’s names. Both of us were named after famous labels: Chanel and Christian Dior. My mom used a K instead of the Ch in Kristian’s name but let mine stay the same.
As I stood to wash my hands, I smiled and said, “Yeah, but with names like ours we are destined for success.”