Don’t ever ignore the elephant in the room—hop on that big bitch and ride it…
It’s exactly four P.M., when Booty finally drops me off back at the salon. “Miss Pasha, girl,” she says as I open the door, swinging one leg out of her truck, “You a real special bitch ’cause I don’t let a lotta bitches up in my home. I usually entertain they asses outside on the porch or in the backyard on the patio. Shit, Dickalina ain’t even been allowed to sit ‘n’ kick her heels up inside my house like you. And me and her been friends for years. Then again, I know the bitch got roaches so I only let her ass stand when she comes through ’cause I don’t want her leavin’ none’a her lil friends behind. I always tell that bitch to make sure she takes her pets with her when she leaves. I ain’t even tryna house none’a them nasty fuckers.”
I shake my head, laughing. “Cassandra, your ass is a hilarious mess. You do know that, right?”
“Uh-huh. But I ain’t ever been messy.”
“Cass, I can’t with you. Listen. Thanks for dragging me out of here today. Whether I wanted it or not, I needed it. Talking everything out really helped put things in perspective.”
“It sure did, sugah-boo.” She tilts her head, pursing her lips. “We gonna turn them motherfuckas out. You got the list, right?”
I nod, double-checking inside my handbag. “Yeah. I got it.”
“Yesss, FahverGawd, they not gonna know what hit they asses.” She reaches in the backseat and grabs a large black plastic shopping bag, then hands it to me. “This is for you, Miss Pasha, girl.”
I give her a quizzical look, peeking inside the bag. “What is it?”
“It’s a lil treat to get this party started right.”
I pull out the box. It’s a black Double Trouble Stun Gun.
“We gonna do ’em up right, goddammit. We gonna zap they asses ’til they drop, ‘n’ by the time they come through we gonna have they asses hog-tied how they had you. And I ain’t tryna hear nothin’ else ’bout you draggin’ ya heels, either, Miss Pasha, girl. Ya lumped-up face should be enough to keep the fire lit up under ya ass. And I hope you gonna do what I tol’ you ‘n’ suck Stax’s ball sac inside out. We need to know what he knows. And the only bitch he gonna tell shit to is you.”
I sigh. “Like I told you earlier, I’m not sure I really want to go there.”
Her neck snaps back. “What? You’re not sure you wanna go there? Sugah-boo, boom-boom! You better put them lips to use ‘n’ be the best cum-guzzler you can be ‘n’ guzzle us out some Intel. Get ya mind right, Miss Pasha, girl! Do that sexy motherfucka. And if he ain’t got shit worth sayin’, at least you got to get you a mouthful of that Mandingaling ‘n’ a taste of that hot cock sauce.”
I blink. The only thing I can do is smile and I let what she says go over my head. At the end of the day, I know without a doubt, Booty means well. “Again, thanks.” I reach over and grab her hand. “It means a lot to me to know you have my back.”
“I sure do, goddammit. And I enjoyed havin’ you over, Miss Pasha, girl. Next time you gonna have’ta stay for a bite to eat. Now get on up outta my truck. You know Booty ain’t for none’a this sentimental shit.”
I chuckle. “Get home safe, girl.” I shut the door and watch her peel off down the street, running through a red light.
I look over at my salon, wincing as I touch the side of my face. It’s tender and sore. But the swelling isn’t as bad as it could have been. Fuck you, Jasper! Putting your motherfucking hands on me at my place of business! You really helped seal your goddamn fate, nigga!
My personal life may be all fucked up. But a bitch can’t say shit about my professional life. I’ve put a lot of sweat and tears and heartache into this shop, my shop. The long grueling hours and exceptional services offered over the years have truly paid off. Despite all the personality clashes, cutthroat cattiness and backbiting that often goes along with owning a salon, my shop remains a thriving, extremely successful hair, nail and body salon. Our clientele list continues to grow, and loyal patrons from around the Tri-State continue to pack us to the seams.
I glance up at the NAPPY NO MORE sign hanging vertically over the shop’s window and grimace in an attempt to smile. I place a hand up to the side of my face. This is my shit, I muse, walking toward the building. And in a couple more weeks, it should be official. I’ll be the proud of owner of Nappy No More II out in Beverly Hills. I can’t wait to get the fuck away from here for a while. I only hope this shit with Jasper is over before then. Booty’s right. It’s time.
Through the shop’s window, which I had bullet-proofed thanks to the nigga who smashed it out last year, I see there isn’t anyone manning the receptionist desk and there are about ten clients sitting in the waiting area. I step through the door, immediately greeted with the sound of laughter and lively chatter over the sounds of…playing through the speakers. I speak to everyone sitting in the waiting area, then make my way toward the workstation area, catching the tail end of Rhodeshia running her mouth about…me!
She’s so busy talking sideways that she doesn’t even notice me standing here, leaning up against the side of the partition.
She’s parting and spraying her client’s scalp. “Girl, I don’t know what popped off in her office earlier today, but I heard he been whoopin’ that ass every since he got home from prison and found out she was sucking other niggas’ dicks.…”
Her client chimes in, “Mmmph. Depending on how long he was locked up, I probably woulda did me a little dick sucking on the side, too. Shit. It’s hard jailing with a nigga, especially when he doing more than two years. We got needs, too. Shit.”
Rhodeshia grunts. “Chile, please. I know jailin’ ain’t easy. So go out and get you a lil boo on the side. Not a whole neighborhood of niggas like Pasha was doing…I heard she suck’a mean dick, too.”
I hear Lamar’s voice coming from over the railing upstairs in the loft that overlooks the workstation area where manis-and-pedis are given. “Yo, ma, chill wit’ that; you really outta pocket. How you gonna stand there and kick Pasha’s back in like that in front of all these peeps, yo. You bein’ mad reckless at the mouth right now.”
She sucks her teeth. “Nigga, please. Why you care? What you gonna do, run back and tell her?”
“Nah, that’s not what I do.”
“Then how about you just do what you’re paid to do and mind your business.”
“Aiight, ma, you know what. Do you. That shit still ain’t cool.”
She waves him on. “Whatever. Like I said, mind yours and leave mine alone.”
Even two of my pedicurists, Trish and Anna, confront her to shut it down, but this bitch still keeps on going. I bite my tongue.
You wanna know what a bitch really thinks about you? Listen to what she says about you behind your back.
I stand here taking it all in. A few clients’ eyes open in surprise when they spot me with my finger up to my lips for them to keep quiet. A few eyes light up in anticipation for a lil juicy shop drama. Looks like today is one of those days.
Kenyatta, another one of my newest stylists, tries to clear her throat, motioning with her head over in my direction, nodding to Rhodesia on the sly that I’m standing here. But Rhodeshia’s ass is too stuck on messy to pick up on it. The patrons in the chairs watch on in amazement, watching me watch her as she continues flapping her gums about me.
“…I like Pasha and all, but she a damn fool. She got her a fine-ass nigga who’s paid out the ass and she too busy out trickin’ instead of stayin’ posted up at home playin’ her position, waitin’ for her man to come home. I swear. Chicks don’t know how’ta ride a bid out with a nigga. And that’s exactly why she probably got her ass beat in her office today. If you ask me…” Her mouth drops open when she sees me through the mirror.
I wave at her. “Hi. Don’t stop now. You were on a roll, bitch. So go on. Finish what you were about to say. If we asked you what?”
“Oh, um, I-I…girl, I was only talking shit.”
“Yeah, about me in my salon, bitch!”
The salon goes quiet.
Yeah, center stage, all eyes on me now—again.
I stalk over toward her with a hand up on my hip, tossing my handbag in my chair. I don’t know if I have a contact high from the two blunts Booty smoked while I was with her, or if it’s the effects of the five shots I ended up tossing back. But whatever the reason, I light her ass up in front of all to see. Something I’ve never been known to do—with the exception when I slapped Felecia in front of everyone. Besides that, I’ve always tried to handle things behind closed doors, in the privacy of my office, away from prying eyes, professionally.
But after the shit with Felecia kicking my back in, I’m done with keeping shit professional. If these bitches want to see the ghetto side of me, then so be it. Obviously that’s the only language most of these hoes respond to any-damn-way.
“Bitch, the one thing you must not know is that I don’t do two-faced bitches.”
“Pasha, girl, I-I—”
“Don’t ‘Pasha, girl’ me, bitch. You can finish up your client’s hair, but when you’re done putting them braids in, you can get the fuck out of my salon. Pack your shit and bounce. You wanna talk shit, then let’s talk shit. Yeah, I was sucking dick behind my husband’s back while he was locked up. What the fuck you care for? The nigga did five years, okay? And, yeah, he came home and beat the shit out of me. So the moral of the story is, don’t suck another nigga’s dick behind your man’s back. Or if you’re gonna do the shit, don’t get your ass caught with it stuck down in your throat.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but quickly shuts it when I put a hand up in her face.
“Bitch,” I sneer contemptuously, “instead of talking shit about me behind my back, you shoulda been coming to me for some dick-sucking tips ’cause from what I hear, your baby father stays up in the strip clubs getting his private party on in the back rooms with whatever whore he can trick the rent money up on. And he’s always somewhere tryna get his dick sucked ’cause the bitch he has at home ain’t sucking it.” Then I use one of Booty’s classic lines, “Don’t do me, goddammit!”
A few patrons gasp. Some start laughing. Others cling to every word, waiting to see who’s going to swing fists first. Right now as fired up as I am, it’ll be me taking it to this bitch’s head.
I hear a few saying shit like, “I heard that, girl.”
“Shit. I know that’s right. Let me stop in your office later, girl, for some throat tips.”
“Girl, don’t you know if you ain’t suckin’ your man’s dick, another bitch will?”
I ignore the comments, narrowing my eyes at Rhodeshia who is now looking like she’s ready to crawl up under her sink. She starts apologizing, saying how wrong she was for disrespecting me. How she got caught up in the gossip. Blah, blah, blah…
“Bitch, gossip or not, don’t ever apologize for shit you meant to say, or for shit you feel. Be a woman about your shit; that’s all. Fact is I walked up on ya ass throwing shit on me, now you wanna backpedal. Don’t. I can respect a bitch who says ‘yeah I said it’ instead of some phony-bitch tryna apologize her way out of it. So if there’s something any of you wanna say to me, or about me, be woman enough to say it to my face. If you’re going to work for me, I expect loyalty—from everyone. I don’t talk about anyone behind their backs. And I expect the same goddamn courtesy to be extended to me. If not, pack your shit and get the fuck up outta my salon. Period.
“And another thing, since we clearing the air.” I point to my face. “You see this bruise right here.” I turn around in the middle of the floor. “I want all of you to get a good look at it. My husband did that this, okay. Jasper came up in here earlier and smacked me the fuck up in my office. Why? Because I wouldn’t give the nigga some pussy, okay. And I clawed his neck, then tried to bite his goddamn balls off. So, yeah, he was beating my ass. But know this: Today was the nigga’s last time he’ll ever lay his hands on me and get to walk.”
I shoot my glare back over at Rhodeshia as she continues cornrowing her client’s head. “From now on, bitch, if you wanna talk, make sure you have all your facts.” I stare her down. She looks up from her client’s head, nervously shifting her eyes. “Bitch, you lucky I don’t punch you in your goddamn sockets.”
She snaps her head back, raising a brow. “Now wait a minute, Pa—”
I put both hands up on my hips. “What, you wanna leap? No, bitch, you wait a minute.” I lower my voice, punctuating every other word. “If you ever…talk slick…about me. Behind. My. Back again…I’m going to personally slice your motherfucking…throat.”
Her eyes widen in shock. She’s never seen this side of me. None of them have. Well, guess what? It’s a new goddamn bitch in town! And her name is Pasha Nivea-Alona Allen. And they gonna learn today!
I glance around the salon. “Now. Is there anything else any of you want to know or say before my five o’clock gets here?”
“Yeah, girl,” this attractive brown-skinned chick says. I’ve never seen her here before. “I wanna know where I can sign up for those dick sucking lessons?”
“LaQuandra, girl…I can’t with you,” Kenyatta says, chuckling as she spins her around in her chair. “You’re a hot mess.”
She grunts. “I’m serious. I need to learn how to suck that trifling-ass baby mother of his up out of his system. He can’t seem to shake that crazy bitch.”