LEANDRA
“I was lying in bed watching a Real Housewives of New Jersey marathon when my phone rang. “Damn, who is this?” I picked it up off the bedside table next to a bowl of milk from the Sugar Pops I had eaten to study the number. It read: Unknown. “Hello.”
Oh my God, child, I’m so glad you picked up.”
“Who is this?” I asked, irritated.
“Girl, it’s me, Delora. I have a hair crisis of epic proportions.”
How in the hell did she get my number?
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“It’s more like what’s not going on. My damn hair. It has decided that it’s going to act a fool today. I need an emergency do like yesterday ago.”
“I’m sorry, but Sabrina is running the store today. I’m out sick.” I wasn’t really sick, but just needed one of my days where I could just veg out in front of the TV. I had one of those feelings that if I left my house, terrible luck would befall me, so I decided to stay in and take a lazy day. My head was killing me from the concussion I had sustained. “Call the shop and make an appointment.” Just like everyone else.
“I heard what happened. Are you OK? I was knocked on my behind when they told me at the shop that you were in a car accident.”
That ain’t nobody but Sabrina running and telling my business. I should fire her ass. She knows how I feel about gossiping in the salon. “Yeah, luckily, I just walked away with a mild concussion, that’s all.”
“Praise Jesus, girl. God is so good.”
“Yes He is,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Child, I really need your help. I’ve tried to do something with this savage beast, but it’s like she’s got a mind of her own. I got a date tonight. Hook a sister up, just this once.”
“Delora, any other time I would take care of you, but—”
“I understand that,” she interrupted, “but I’m going crazy here. I can’t go out looking a hot mess. You should see how I look. I don’t think even a scarf could hold down this monstrosity that has taken over my head.”
One thing I could say about Delora: she knew how to turn on the drama. If “drama queen” were in the dictionary, I wouldn’t be surprised if a picture of her was right next to it. The last thing I wanted to do was put my hands up in somebody’s head today, but I knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“I’ll pay you an extra forty dollars on to what you usually charge.”
It wasn’t about the money. I simply didn’t feel like entertaining company. I sighed. “Okay, give me an hour and come on over.”
“Leandra, girl, thank you. I knew you wouldn’t let me down. I owe you one.”
Damn right you do.
“Don’t worry about it, just come on over. I’ll hook ya up.”
“I’m headed over there now.”
Before I could say another word, Delora hung up. I was in and out of the shop really. I wasn’t back to my full one hundred percent self. I would dip in, say hello to the girls, some of my regulars, and do a bank drop and stock inventory. That was stupid of me to run off the road like that. It hadn’t been easy getting back on track after all this craziness with Emjay and Shariece. I loved them both, but I couldn’t be looking up in their faces right now, pretending that I was fine with what they have going on. I had told Emjay that if he was going to continue to see Shariece, he was on his own and no longer welcome in my house. I have officially cut him off financially. I’m not paying his rent, tuition, none of that until he’s come to his senses. No more babying him, and if Rick was here, he would probably agree. It burns my ass thinking about how Shariece had lied to me all this time, and here she was supposed to be my best friend. How do you keep something like sleeping with your best friend’s son from somebody? I tell her everything under the sun, and she felt the need to keep the fact that she was fucking my son away from me. And then has the lady balls to tell me that who she fucks is none of my business. Bitch, please. I spent twenty-two years struggling to build a good life for myself and Emjay, to keep him on the straight and narrow, working two, sometimes three jobs to make sure he never wants for a damn thing. I didn’t want him to have to struggle on the streets like I did. There is no way in hell I was going to have him turn out like his daddy did only to end up with a bullet in his head. The thought of going to the morgue and having to identify my baby—. God, I can’t think about shit like that. No matter how old he gets, he’ll always be my baby boy. If I hear anything about Shariece hurting Emjay, she will have Mama Bear to answer to.
* * *
I had forgotten what a mess the house was until I got out of bed and started straitening up. I didn’t want Delora to think that I kept my house looking like a pigsty. There were dirty wineglasses from the drinks Taj and I’d had last night, along with files of sales receipts on the sofa and coffee table. I took the basket of dirty clothes I had sitting in the hallway to be washed, and set them in the linen closet until I had time to get to them. The kitchen was the worst. I took the garbage out to the trash bin in the backyard, and then loaded the dishwasher. My days of washing dishes by hand were over. Prune fingers is not a good look on me. I sprayed through the whole house with apple cinnamon air freshener, even the bedroom that smelled faintly of sex. I changed the bed sheets. There was no telling what kinds of stains were on them. I went to the bathroom to grab my tools for Delora’s hair: comb, rollers and hot curlers. Everything was ready except for me. I spent a better part of the day walking around in nothing but sweat pants and a one-size-fits-all T-shirt. Any other time I wouldn’t have cared, but since Drama Queen was coming over, I did. I pulled a pair of jeans out of the closet I had picked up from being lightly pressed at the cleaners. I threw on a T-shirt Emjay had made in one of his graphic design classes. He probably thinks that I don’t have it anymore. It’s one thing out of the many things he has given me I cherish. I laid my clothes and some clean panties and bra on the bed. I sauntered off to the bathroom wanting to soak in a bubble bath, but there was no time, so a shower had to do. When I turned the water on, my phone rang. I had hoped it was Delora calling to cancel, but it was Taj.
“Hey, baby.”
“Hey, I called to let you know that this might be another shoot to run well into the night, so I might be a little late coming home.”
I sighed. “How late is a little?”
“Sorry, baby. We’re still out here trying to finish up the shoot, so who knows.”
“Taj, this is the third time this week.”
“I know. It’s this photographer who’s always showing up late on the set.”
“I don’t understand why the magazine won’t fire him.”
“I agree, but Travis Richardson has done shoots with big names like Halle Berry, Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, Madonna, Rihanna, you name it. It’s a pretty big deal. This could be huge for my career, for both of us.”
The bathroom started to fog with steam from the shower, so I stepped out into the hallway. “I’m about to come down there and tell this Travis Richardson to get his shit together so my boo can come home.” Taj burst out laughing. “You laughing because you know I’ll do it.”
“I know. That’s why you need to stay home. I could get fired messing with you, woman.”
“You want me to make us a nice dinner, then? I was going to thaw out some chicken wings and make those homemade hot wings of mine you love so much.”
“That sounds good, but I don’t know how late I’m going to be tonight.”
“OK, well, call me to let me know that you’re on your way home.”
“I’m so sorry, baby; I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“I know you will.”
“I’ll call you if we get out of here early, but I doubt it with this guy.”
“OK. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I pressed end call on my phone and threw it on the bed with my clothes. “Whatever,” I said to myself. I slipped out of the clothes I had been lying in all day until I stood booty-naked in the steam-filled bathroom. I smeared my arm across the medicine cabinet mirror to clear away the cloak of fog. I studied the large bandage that was taped in the upper-right corner of my forehead. I picked at the adhesive, pulling it gently away. I squirmed as I peeled it back to examine the gash I had sustained from my intentional accident. It wasn’t bad, but was healing quite nicely. Dr. St. John says that it shouldn’t leave a scar, but if it does, I’m heading straight to a plastic surgeon. I flung the bandage into a small trash can that sat between the foot of the toilet and the sink. I looked at myself, gradually starting to see the weight melting off of me. I wanted to prove to myself that I could shed the pounds without Shariece there to be my drill sergeant. It’s not easy saying no to strawberry cheesecake ice cream. I thought for sure with the anger and sadness I felt over being kept in the dark about Emjay and Shariece. I didn’t know how strong my will power was until now. As long as I watch what I eat, I didn’t see why I couldn’t be down to a size twelve.
* * *
I stepped into the bathtub, the warm shower water pelted against my body. I pressed some cocoa butter body wash into my palm and rubbed my hands sensually along my breasts, down my stomach, between my legs and down my thighs. It’s Thanksgiving I’m worried about, one of my favorite days next to Christmas and my birthday. I’m used to putting out a big ol’ spread, but I think this year, I will prepare a small romantic dinner for me and Taj. I don’t really feel like being around a lot of people this year anyway.
I love my ass though. Taj says he likes something he can hold onto and slap when I’m putting it on him. He can be so freaky. I can’t wait until the summer so I can put on this new two-piece I bought. All eyes will be on me when I serve some Baywatch realness at the beach next summer. Cocoa butter lather trickled down my titties and thighs, between the crack of my booty, to the tips of my toes. I wish to God I hadn’t walked in on my son and Shariece that night, but I have to move on for the sake of my own sanity.
I ran my fingers between my legs, gently along my pussy, pleasuring myself without really being conscious of what I was doing. I was about to do a damn thing when I thought I heard someone outside of the bathroom door. I switched off the shower.
“Hello,” I said.
“Leandra, hey, girl, it’s Delora.”
Damn, oh so you just going to let yourself in my house? See, that’s how motherfuckers get shot. She’s got a big pair of lady balls to be walking up in somebody’s crib. I grabbed a towel from the rack under the toilet and stepped out of the shower, cocoa butter suds running off my body onto the rug at the foot of the tub. Already I was getting annoyed. “Hey, I’m getting out of the shower. I will be out in a minute.”
“Okay, am I too early?”
“No, you good. Just um . . . have a seat in the living room.”
“Can I help myself to some of that wine you have sitting out there while I wait?”
Was this bitch serious? What the hell she thinks this is? A day spa?
“Yeah, girl, go ’head,” I said with my lips twisted. I wrapped the towel around my body and scurried down the hall. I was almost to my bedroom when Delora’s clumsy ass ran smack into me, causing my towel to drop. Before I could regain my composure, I was ass-naked in front of her.
“Oh, girl, I’m sorry,” Delora said, cloaking her eyes with her left hand as if she had just witnessed an unspeakable horror. She made a beeline back to the living room where I had told her to wait instead of taking her own personal tour of my house.
“It’s fine. I need to get dressed, and I will be out there to do your hair.”
I got to my bedroom, finished drying off and slipped on a pair of lavender panties.
Why in the hell did I agree to do this again? When I find out who gave Delora my phone number, I’m going to skin a bitch back to the white meat. I finished getting dressed and threw my hair back in a ponytail. With what had just happened, I wanted to kick Delora out of my house, tell her ass to make an appointment like everyone else. I checked my attitude at the door before I went out to see what else she had helped herself to.
Delora was sitting on the sofa, flipping through a hair magazine she had brought. She was one of these women who always came to the shop with a folded-up page out of Hair magazine going on about how they wanted to look like Rihanna or somebody with hair no longer than my pinky finger. I’m not a miracle worker.
“Hey, you ready?” I said, walking to the kitchen acting like her seeing me naked didn’t happen. Delora wore a scarf, so I didn’t know what to expect. I could see damaged bits of hair sprouting from an exposed part of the scarf. Delora plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs.
“So you said you want to get a wash and set, right?”
“Yes. I will kiss your feet if you can do something with this mess on top of my head.”
“Well, let me see what you’ve done to it.” I untied the knot from the back to unveil what she had been bitching and moaning about on the phone. “Damn, what happened?”
“It’s a mess, ain’t it?”
There was an assortment of colors and dyes in Delora’s hair along with split ends and dryness caused by a flat iron, I bet. Hell, you might as well light your hair on fire messing with that shit.
“Believe it or not, I’ve seen worse.” I ran my fingers through the rat nest of a mess that was her hair.
“So do you think you can do something with this?”
“Child, if I can’t hook you up, nobody can.”
“That’s why I called you. I knew you would be able to work your magic.”
“You’re going to walk out of here looking red carpet gorgeous.”
“You don’t know how relieved I am to hear you say that. I was scared you were going to tell me that you had no choice but to hack all my hair off.”
“No, it’s not that serious, girl, but if you keep putting all these dyes and stuff in it, and using a flat iron, you won’t have a choice but to cut it all off. Walk around here looking like a black Sinead O’Connor.” We both grinned.
“Men don’t like bald women. They like hair they can grab onto, if you know what I’m saying.”
“You ain’t never lied.” I laughed.
Looking at Delora’s hair took me back to how we had met. She was my first client before I even had a shop. After making it through high school by the skin of my teeth, and a baby nibbling at my heels, I’d needed to make some serious cake, and working at Church’s Chicken, wasn’t going to cut it. Rick’s funeral was sad. The funeral director told me that due to half his face being blown off, it had to be a closed casket. I was determined to carve out a better life for me and Emjay, a life Rick would have wanted me and his son to have. I couldn’t see myself doing the whole college thing. I had no patience to stick with that higher education shit for four years. I needed to do something that was going to get me in and out and employed, so I decided to take up Cosmetology at Lively Technical.
Before Sherilyn started fucking around with dope, she used to do hair for extra money. She knew how to do weaves, wash and sets, blowouts, all that. I would sit and watch her for hours do one head after the next, and these bitches would come through looking a hot project mess, but walked out giving housewife divadom. Half the money she made she put up her nose. She would show me all of her tricks of the hair trade and before long, I was as good as her, if not better. While she was out doing God knows what, I was hooking girls up with fresh dos for everything from proms to weddings. What WIC couldn’t cover, I used to keep diapers on Emjay’s behind and food in his mouth. Whatever I had that was extra, I would put away.
I remember going to school with people who had all this talent: artists, singers, brainiacs, but never had sense enough to do a damn thing with the gift they had been given, but not me. I had a thing for hair, to turn trifling into triumphant. I wasn’t about to waste this gift because I had a kid to raise. Mrs. Boyd had helped me pay half the tuition, which wasn’t much, being that it was a short program. I finished in two semesters, got licensed and was ready to go to work. I got a job at Snazzy Cuts, one of the hottest salons in Tallahassee while I kept my regulars from the projects who continued coming over to get their dos done. It wasn’t long before I got a following and gained a rep for being one of the best stylists at Snazzy Cuts. The day Delora came into the shop, her hair looked wild and crazy much like it does today. No stylist wanted her, so I took her to see what I could do. By the time I was done, I had her looking like royalty. She spread the word to all her friends and coworkers that I was the one to see. I was hooking up teachers, doctors, and wives of important local political figures. The girls at the shop were crazy jealous, but Diane, the owner of Snazzy Cuts, didn’t care with all the cake I was pulling in.
Delora was the one who had recommended that I open up my own shop, but I was way ahead of her on that. I would plan out in my head how my own salon would look. When Diane found out that I was doing hair at my crib on the side, she didn’t take too kindly to it, and fired me. I figured one of the jealous, brown-nose, ass-kissing bitches at the shop must have snitched. Shit didn’t matter no way. Diane had gotten enough blood, sweat and hair grease out of me in the three years I’d worked for her. I had the clientele anyway, so I was ready to strike out on my own. I used the ten grand Mrs. Boyd left me in her will to open my own shop on Orange Avenue. Leandra’s Hair and Beauty. I hired three girls fresh out of Aveda: Nishelle, Sabrina and Javonte, whom all had an assortment of talents. I was slam-packed busy that whole week of the grand opening and weeks and months after that. I even started to notice some of Diane’s customers frequenting my salon. I was at my busiest during Florida A&M homecoming games and Demp Week. I was making money hand over fist, treating myself and Emjay to new outfits and shoes. A year later, I bought myself a black BMW with cream-leather seats. I had gone from living in a low-income, one-bedroom house to a three-bedroom home and making enough cake to buy my dream Beamer.
* * *
“So what kind of style are you talking about getting?” I asked Delora.
“Okay, you remember the third season of Real Housewives of Atlanta when Kandi was working that red, curly do?”
“You mean the one that made her look like Bozo the Clown?” I said, picking Delora’s hair out with a pick.
Delora laughed. “Yeah, I want that, but without the red. Can you hook a sister up?”
“I think I can do that.”
“I want something real simple, you feel me?”
“How about I cut it short; turn you into a blonde like Nene Leakes?”
“I love me some Nene, and I’m not knocking my girl’s look, but that’s too short. I want it to come to my shoulders at least.”
These women tickle me wanting to look like celebs. They don’t understand when I try to tell them that what looks good on celebrities isn’t necessarily going to work for them, but it’s like talking to a wall.
“If I can’t get you there, I will get you as close as I can to what you want.”
“Come over here to the sink and let me get you washed up.” I slid the chair against the counter. Delora sat down and positioned her head into the kitchen sink. I ran warm water over her crinkled, unruly locks.
“So what’s up, chil’? Everybody at the shop’s been asking about you. Where you been?”
Delora was known to be nosey, always trying to get up in other people’s business, so I was always careful about what I let her in on or it would be all over the shop in two seconds flat.
“Girl, since the accident I’ve just been laying low, trying to get back to being one hundred.”
“Girl, everybody at the salon was talking about that. What happened?”
I figured somebody at the shop must have opened their mouth about the accident. It was probably Sabrina and Javonte, the way they run their damn mouths after I’d told them about how I feel about gossiping in the workplace. I’m a pussy hair close to firing both of them.
“I was um . . . driving home from Emjay’s in that rainstorm. I think on it now and wish I had spent the night at his apartment as it was raining so hard.”
“Chil’, I was so scared that night, I thought a tree was going to fall on my house, the way it was knocking and banging everything around. All it did though was knock up some shingles on the roof,” Delora said.
“I couldn’t see a damn thing in front of me. I must have been driving on the wrong side of the road, because before I knew anything, I damn near got T-boned by a semi.”
“Oh Lord.”
“To keep from getting hit, I veered off the road and ended up hitting a tree.”
“Girl, the Lord was with you that night.”
I wasn’t about to tell Delora of all people that I purposely ran off the road for the fact that I had just caught my son and my best friend in bed fucking. Not if I wanted all of South Side knowing my business. “Next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital.”
I took a bottle of Pantene that was sitting off to the side of the kitchen counter, flipped the lavender top open and poured some the size of a quarter in the palm of my hand and massaged the shampoo into Delora’s scalp. I could tell that it felt good the way her eyes rolled back and forth into her head like she was about to fall asleep.
“I can’t imagine how Emjay was feeling when he saw you lying in a hospital bed.”
“He was actually okay once he saw that I was all right,” I lied. “He helped to nurse me back to health for about a week—cooking, cleaning, filling my prescriptions and stuff. I don’t know what I would do without him.”
“Sons will do anything for their mamas. That’s how Jermaine and Dontavius are. There’s nothing they won’t do for me. I think it would have been different had I had girls. You know how hot in the ass they can be. Wouldn’t give me a second thought, but sons will stick by you no matter what. I’ve always been fond of boy-children.”
I wanted to tell Delora that what she was saying wasn’t true, that some sons, once they’ve sunk their teeth into something they like, won’t turn it loose, and will leave your ass high and dry after all you’ve done to try and raise them up right, to try and teach them about respect and right from wrong, teach them not to lie and keep secrets. But what came out of my mouth instead was, “Yeah, Emjay has been good. I don’t doubt that there ain’t nothing he won’t do for me.”
“So, what’s up? I’ve seen you walking around here with that fine-ass man on your arms.”
Damn, that’s random. We go from talking about our children to whom I’ve been stepping out with. Delora was putting a bitch on the spot.
“You better work, cougar.”
When she uttered the other C word, I wanted to snatch her tender-headed behind back. No she did not just call me a cougar. I’m only forty-one and fabulous, I might add. “He’s doing some stuff for Break Entertainment Magazine for their July issue.”
“Girl, he is the definition of fine, mama. How did ya’ll meet?”
“We um . . . met at Publix,” I lied. “We were standing in the same checkout line and we struck up a conversation, and the rest is history. We exchanged phone numbers and he asked me out.”
“So when are you going to bring him by the salon for everyone to meet?”
“Don’t you mean for all ya’ll to salivate over like a bunch of hungry lionesses.” We both laughed.
“The only man I’ll be drooling over is the one who’s taking me out to dinner tonight.”
“No, but he’s busy on a shoot right now. As soon as Taj can free up some time in his schedule, I’ll bring him over for everyone to meet,” I said.
“Taj. That’s a sexy name.”
“And if I ever see any of you thirsty bitches put a hand on him, you’ll be drawing back a nub.”
“Hey, you ain’t gotta worry about me. You know I’m not that kind of woman to go after somebody else’s man.”
I massaged the shampoo deep into Delora’s scalp, making sure to get her back there in her kitchen.
“So is Emjay still in school?”
“He’s about to finish up his freshman year actually.”
“What is he studying again?”
“He’s still undecided, so right now he’s trying to get his basics out of the way: math, English, science, history.”
“Did I tell you that Jermaine got a job working for the state?”
That’s Delora. Always feeling like she has to one-up somebody like it’s a competition. I tell her Emjay is in college, she tells me that her dirty-ass boy got a job working for the state like that shit is something to be proud of. From what I hear, people who have state jobs are in a constant state of panic, scared Rick Scott is going to pink slip their asses any day.
“Oh, did he? That’s good. When did he get that job?” Like I gave a damn to know.
“Last month. He works downtown in the Capitol as a staff assistant for the mayor.”
He’s a damn secretary? I thought. When I was done, I rinsed all the soap out of Delora’s hair, and sat her up out of the sink to towel her hair dry.
“Oh, girl, I almost forgot to tell you. Did you hear what happened to Katonia’s boy?” Delora asked.
“He got shot.”
“What?”
“He’s alive, though. That crazy-ass boy shot at some police over on Bronough Street. They claiming that he shot first, but I don’t believe that. You know how trigger-happy these cops can be out here. Shoot first, ask questions never, especially if you black.”
“Where did they shoot him at?” Delora started grinning.
“What’s so funny about somebody’s child getting shot, Delora?”
“The damn cop shot him in the ass.”
“Where?” I grinned.
“In his ass. I forgot to um . . . ask Katonia which ass cheek it was.” Delora and I both filled the kitchen with roaring laughter.
“Katonia says he has all this gauze wrapped around his ass, looking like he has a diaper on.” I laughed so hard, the muscles in my stomach started to tighten. Katonia and I went to cosmetology school together. Her specialty is braids, coloring and weave. I wanted her to come work for me at the shop, but she wanted to venture off and do her own thing. Everyone knew that Tarell was a member of the Pepper Street Posse. So if he got shot by a cop or anyone else, it was because he was out here doing something he didn’t have any business doing.
“Girl, you know ever since he was a little boy, he was always into something.”
“Uh-huh,” Delora uttered as I blow-dried her hair.
“He tried to steal Emjay’s bike one time, I remember. He was nine and Tarell was ten, I think. Me and Emjay walked to Katonia’s, ’cause she only lived up the street from me back then.”
“Yeah.”
“I told Emjay that fighting was not the answer to nothing, that it just makes things worse than better, but at the same time, I wasn’t raising him to be no punk, either. I told him if someone wanted to try him, to lay his ass out. Emjay came home just crying, saying that Tarell had stolen his bike.”
“Aww, poor baby. So what happened when ya’ll got to Katonia’s house?”
“She was there. She came to the door. I think she had gotten home from work. She was working for the Department of Children and Families at the time.”
“Where she work at now?”
“I think she manages a Dollar Tree on South Magnolia.”
Katonia was on welfare like a lot of us until she had to get out and get a damn j-o-b after they cut her check off. She thought she was all that just because they gave her an office.
“When we got to her house, Emjay’s bike was sitting there on the porch. Tarell’s bad ass was sitting in the living room watching cartoons. When I knocked on the door, I scared the hell out of that boy. He knew his behind was in some serious trouble.”
“Where was Katonia?”
“In the kitchen cooking, I think. I yelled in at her. She didn’t have a clue that Tarell had taken Emjay’s bike. When she saw the bike on the porch, she hollered out to him. His fat behind bucked up out of the chair.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Tarell’s ass.”
“‘Did you take Emjay’s bike?’ she asked him. He claimed he was just borrowing the bike, but Emjay said he took it and didn’t ask. He was talking all big and bad with me standing up there. Girl, when Katonia started knocking Tarell upside his head for taking Emjay’s bike, it took everything in me to keep from laughing. I felt so sorry for him, and Katonia was cursing like a sailor at him the whole time. ‘How many times have I told your bad ass not to touch nothing that don’t belong to you?’”
“That’s how you gotta do them boys; raise them hard,” Delora said.
“Katonia made Tarell give Emjay his bike back and say he was sorry. Him and Emjay both gave each other these mean-mugging looks. She apologized to me for what Tarell had done. I was sure that it wouldn’t be the last time that the two of them would bump heads again. Chil’, a week after, they were at it again. He was always trying to punk Emjay, so I told him that he was going to have to stand up for himself.”
“Uh-huh. The only thing boys like Tarell know is an old-fashioned ass whippin’,” Delora said.
“I know, and that’s what I told Emjay. They were playing stickball on the street in front of the house when they started fussing. Girl, I didn’t know over what, kid stuff, I figured. I watched the whole thing from my door. I guess they didn’t know I was standing there because Emjay and Tarell both was cursing and hollering. The mama in me wanted to march out there and bust Emjay’s behind for cursing.”
“But you knew that was just part of him learning how to stand up for himself.”
“Right, so I just stood there and watched. I knew I would just embarrass him, his mama running to save him from that he had no control over, so I watched.”
“You watched?”
“I watched to see what was going to happen, because had he walked away from a fight, I was going to beat his ass myself. Tarell punched him in the nose hard enough to make it bleed. All the kids were oohing and going on. I wanted to run out, but I wanted to see what Emjay was going to do.”
“You were better than me, ’cause I would have slapped the shit out of that Tarell boy.”
“Before I could bat an eyelash, Emjay charged at Tarell like a bull, girl, whose eyes were filled with red, and tackled him to the ground. He was just punching and punching him in the ribs and stomach.”
“Goodness.”
“He tore Tarell’s behind up that day. The other kids stood around, cheering Emjay on. I don’t think they liked him anyway.”
“You let Emjay keep beating on him like that?”
“When I felt like his bad behind had enough, I ran out and pulled Emjay up off of him. He was still punching at the air like he wasn’t done with Tarell. I thought he was going to take a swipe at me, but he calmed down. Girl, he was so mad that day. When I took him into the house, he started crying thinking that I was going to beat him, but as I wiped his nose clean of blood with my shirt, I told him how proud of him I was. He was even scared that Katonia was going to ‘beat me up’ because he beat Tarell up.”
“Aww, that’s so cute.”
“I told him not to worry about Katonia. I was waiting on her to come to the house and raise hell, but she never did.”
“That’s because she knew that he was in need of an ass-whipping.”
“And he got one that day. A few days later, they were back playing ball. They were friends until Tarell started skipping, hanging out on the street corner with that Pepper Street mess. There was no damn way I was going to let that happen to Emjay. The minute he started acting a fool, I straightened his ass up quick.”
“That makes two of us. It’s hard keeping them off the streets. I see these gangbangers out here now with the money and cars and shit, trying to recruit these kids as early as eight years old. It’s a shame,” Delora said. It was my turn to change the subject. All this talk about gangs was fucking with me.
“All right, enough talk about all that. You’re going to have me crying up in here in a minute. Let me freshen up your drink.”
“Girl, you ain’t lying; next subject.”
“I think I’m going to pour myself a glass.” I took a bottle of Slovenia Vodka out of the refrigerator, and a glass from one of the cabinets above the kitchen counter.
“I don’t want to get too fucked up. I gotta go pick Jermaine up from work at four-thirty.”
“Delora, hush, I’m not going to let you drive nowhere drunk. We are going to get fucked up responsibly.” We both cracked up with laughter. Delora was exactly what I needed to take my mind off of Emjay and Shariece.
“So what do you want? You want waves, you want curls, what?” I asked as I combed my fingers through her black, flaxen strands.
“Glam it up, girl. Make it big. The bigger the hair, the closer to Jesus.”
It didn’t take me long to do her up. By the time I was done, I had given her red carpet diva. I handed her the mirror. She smiled so big, I thought the child’s face was going to crack.
“Leandra, you outdid yourself this time. The other girls are good, but lady, you are the queen bee of this shit right here.”
“So you like?”
“Like? Girl, I love it. I have a LBD and some leopard-print red bottoms that’s going to make Xavier’s dick stand on end tonight.”
“That’s your new man?”
Delora was known to have a new man for every month. She would go on and on, saying how good they were for like three months, and then something would happen and she would go from saying how sweet a man was to saying he wasn’t shit.
“Leandra, he is sex on a stick. He’s six-two, brown eyes with a juicy, baseball player ass, and lips sexy that would put Dmitri Vance to shame.”
It was my turn to be nosey. “So where did ya’ll meet?”
“On Blackpeople.com. When he responded to my ad, I didn’t believe that it was him. He looked like somebody out of a magazine or something, so I thought the picture was fake until we decided to meet up.”
“Watch yourself. You never know what you’re gonna get with these guys you meet online.”
“Oh, I’m not worried, trust. If I find out he’s some kind of sicko, I got the remedy right here for his ass.” Delora grabbed her purse off the kitchen table next to a bowl of tangerines I had sitting in the center. She opened it to show me what she had inside. This bitch had a gun.
“Bitch, are you crazy? What the hell are you doing with that?”
She took it and held it like it was some prize she had won. “Jermaine gave it to me to protect myself a few days after I got mugged in the parking lot of Harveys.”
“That shit ain’t loaded, is it?”
“Hell yeah, it’s loaded. What’s the point of me walking around with an unloaded gun? They’ll think twice about fucking with me when I pull this .38 on their asses.”
“Damn, girl, you couldn’t get like some pepper spray or something?”
“Fuck that noise. I’m not trying to blind his ass. I’m gonna show them that I’m not the bitch to be trifled with.”
“What if the gun goes off by mistake while you’re in the mall somewhere or someone breaks into your house and steals it?”
“Leandra, you so silly.” Delora laughed. “I doubt that will happen, and I have it on safety for the most part.”
As usual, she had an answer for everything. “Well, I guess there’s no talking you out of carrying that thing around then. You better watch your back with that.”
“I understand your concern, girl, but don’t worry. I got this. Jermaine showed me how to use it and all that. I got it all under control.”
If I had a nickel for every time I heard that, but Delora was a grown-ass woman, and I wasn’t going to keep pressing her about the gun. I’ve had disgust for guns ever since I found out how Rick died. There was a mix of emotions that night with the birth of Emjay and the loss of my man. I wasn’t sure how to feel. In twenty years, a day hasn’t gone by that I don’t think about that night, someone shooting Rick like he was a dog in the street. I wonder if he thought about me and his unborn that night.
“Leandra, you’re crying; are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m just thinking about Rick.”
Delora put the gun back into her purse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, it’s nothing you did. It’s just that I miss him so much, you know? He would be so proud of Emjay. I would give anything for him to see how his son turned out.”
Delora got up and gave me a hug, something I desperately needed. “Leandra, you know how proud he would be of Emjay and what a great job you’ve done raising his boy. He’s looking down on the both of ya’ll from God’s kingdom.”
“I know. I wish he could see what a man he’s become and how talented he is.”
“He sees. Trust me, girl, he’s seeing everything.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I hope he’s getting that peace in death that he didn’t get in life, you know?”
“He is. He’s looking down on ya’ll and he can’t be prouder.”
“I’m just going to think positive. All this crying isn’t going to do me any good.”
“Ain’t a damn thing wrong with crying, baby girl, over the man you loved. Trust and believe, I know what that’s like.”
“Well, it’s almost four, so you better get out of here,” I said as I started to clean up.
“Shoot, I almost forgot. How much do I owe you?”
“Since you’ve been so sweet to me, just pay me forty.”
Delora reached into her purse and pulled out two twenties and a ten and handed them to me. “All right, girl, I’m out. Are you going to be okay?” she asked, rubbing the side of my right arm.
“Are you okay to drive?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m a little buzzed, that’s about it.”
As I walked Delora to the door, my phone rang. It was Taj. “Have fun on your date tonight. I want blow-by-blow details.”
“Bye, girl, and thanks for hooking a sister up. Are you going to be in the shop tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I should be in for the rest of the week.”
“Okay, then, maybe I will stop by.”
“Well, take care and be safe.”