i'm writing a new story...dana don't ask me to finish it or u'll jinx it...i actually started this at the beginning of the school year, and the latest installment was written today...that's what a snow day will do for ya...so enjoy
"Girl what the hell are you doing?!" I yelled at our newest and youngest stylist Yolanda. I pointed at the front of the salon and screamed, "While you been back here runnin' ya mouth on that damn phone, Mrs. Gilbert, one of our oldest and most consistent clients, is out there with relaxer on her head. She been out there for nearly twenty minutes, and you in here handlin' yo' personal business on MY damn phone."
"Aye Simone, chill iight. I'm sorry. I just had to come in here and check up on junior. You know I had left him with my Mama, cuz I couldn't find no babysitter for him. The call took longer than expected," she replied while faking puppy dog eyes at me. I frowned, not knowing what to say. I understood her situation, because she too was a single mother, with virtually no help. I reluctantly took her excuse.
"Yolanda, I understand your situation. But you need to understand that I haven't earned my client base over all these years, for you to lose them for me within a matter of minutes. You work for me. I give you more than enough time during your break to make phone calls and do whatever you please. Do your job the right way, or else I'm going to have to let you go."
She nodded, got up and sighed. As she made her way to exit my small back-room office, I added, "This is the third client this week whose head you've almost messed up. I'm running a business here, not your personal hotline. I'm giving you another chance, on top of the fifty other chances I've given you in this short amount of time. Don't test me. Please."
"Yea, whatever," she mumbled and hurried out to front to take care of her forgotten customer.
"I don't know why I'm so damn nice. She better be lucky she's a friend of family. Cuz if she wasn't, her ass woulda been lookin' through the job section of the Post a long damn time ago."
I shook my head and sat behind my cluttered desk. Order forms for more cream protein and relaxer, broken pencils, receipts, and bills filled up the space. I briefly smiled to myself, wondering about the last time I had actually seen the glazed cherrywood finished surface. It didn't matter at all, because business was definitely booming.
I opened "Nina's" a short time after I graduated from Howard University with a Bachelor's degree in business. With little support from my uppity ass family, and a skimpy ten-thousand dollar loan with post-college brutally damaged credit, I went out on a serious limb and fufilled my dream of owning and operating my own beauty and healthcare day spa, which catered specifically to the African-American woman. Initially, we (my best friend Deidra and I) started off in a small space in southern Prince George's county. The business took off, thanks to my superb business skills, and Deidre's connections and pre-established clientele, and not to mention our bomb-ass styling skills. So three years later, here we are, in Bowie, one of the more affluent parts of the county, where many well-established and successful African-American women lived. We recognized the fact that most of these women commuted into the city, D.C. that is, every day for work. The last thing they wanted to do was find themselves driving all the way uptown on a Saturday morning, for a simple wash and set. Nina's catered to the needs of the busy African-American woman who just wanted to be pampered sometimes.
And we pamper alright. In our short three years, we've gone from a team of a four hair stylists, to a salon full of fifteen stylists, four trained professional massage therapists, two full time manacurists, and a part time beauty consultant whose advice is available by appointment only.
I smiled as I placed an order for more flexi-rods in a brown envelope. Yes, I had come a long way, but in my mind, I still had a long way to go. But now was not the time to think about that. I looked up at the clock, which read four thirty. Four thirty on a friday afternoon. Now was not the time to be sitting around. I had customers to take care of.
I headed out through the main corridor, past the occupied massage rooms, and busy pedicure stations.
"How you doin' Simone?," asked Mrs. Jimason. She was one of my mother's best friends, and came in faithfully for her weekly pedicure, manicure, and uh......tweezing.
"I'm fine Mrs. Jimmy. How you doin'?" I asked out of politeness. I never really liked the woman. She was big, burly, and had her rapid facial hair growth rivaled that of my own damn Daddy. Plus she was two faced as hell. I kept conversation with her and around her to a minimum. Everything I always did in her presence had a way of getting back to her husky behind.
She took a deep breath and giggled as Taylor, a pedicurist, rubbed her unattractive feet. I could see the strain on her face, and she restrained from any expressions which would tell her disdain. I made a mental note to give her a nice little tip out of my own pocket.
"Chile, your mama just wanna know why you don't talk to her. I don't know what done got into you Simone."
I rolled my eyes and started, "You know I'm just real busy with the salon and everything Mrs. Jimmy. I'll get around to calling her sometime soon. Plus she knows I'm real busy with Hasina. Raising a child and -"
She cut me off by raising her hand. "Don't you tell me about how you so busy. Now I raised six children. Half-way by myself. After their Daddy died I didn't know what I was gonna do with six count 'em six boys. Norman, Junior,-"
"Gerald, Albert, Dennis, and Isaiah. Yes, yes. Mrs. Jimmy I've heard this a thousand times. And I admire you and your situation. But I'll get to talking to Mama when I can. Right now, just trust me. I'm busy."
Mrs. Jimmy looked at me disapprovingly. "Chile, I don't know what done got into you. You just real stressed. What you need in your life is a good man. Can't raise Hasina by yourself girl. Take a man and a woman to raise a strong family. You know, Norman and Junior are married, but I still got four boys available. They ask about you all the time. Always askin me, "Mama, what ever happened to Simone?" I smile and tell 'em that you up here now, runnin' the salon and everything."
I nodded and smiled. There wasn't any chance in hell that I was getting with any of the Jimason boys. Yes, of course Norman and Junior were married. They were the only two normal ones. As for the other four, well they were a different story. Isaiah was an "up and coming" drug dealer whose constant bouts with the law made him a celebrity down at the fourth precinct. Dennis and Albert were alcoholics just like their daddy who died of cirrhosis of the damn liver. And well Gerald, the only Jimason boy who I actually befriended in my youth, I've seen his ass at the Dox, a favorite gay and lesbian hot spot in Baltimore, plenty of times. We have a tacit agreement. He doesn't tell my mama, and I don't tell his.
"Mrs. Jimmy, I will call my mama when I get a chance. I hope you enjoy the rest of your treatment. Taylor will treat you well." I walked off and entered the hair salon itself. Friday evening, and black women came in, exhausted from a long week of work, left my shop feeling rejuvinated and refreshed. I smiled at the feeling of making some type of difference.
As soon as I hit the salon, I was bombarded.
"Simone, we need more cream protein, can you wash her so I can go to the back?"
"Simone, when can Alyssa come in again. Someone wants to see the consultant ASAP!, " yelled my receptionist, Ayanna from the front.
"Simone, we're really busy. Don't just stand there girl, get a customer from the front and get to doin' some hair. We're trying to please customers here, " commented my co-owner and best friend Deidre. I chuckled and made my way to the front.
"Ayanna, who's next?"
"Ummm, let's see." She looked down at the waiting list. "It looks like that would be Kendra Phillips. Um, she put on the paper that she wants a wash and a tapered cut. I guess it's a really short do."
I raised my eyebrow. "Sounds simple enough. Let's get going."
Ayanna yelled, "Mrs. Phillips!"
No one got up. She yelled again.
"Mrs. Phillips is going once, going twice..."
"Here I am, " yelled a voice as a figure stumbled out of the restroom. A tall woman who looked to be in her late twenties wiped off her seemingly large hands on her baggy khaki pants. She was copper complexioned, and very well dressed if I might say. Along with her khaki pants, she wore a comfortable, although oversized yellow turtleneck sweater. She finished off her outfit with a pair of wheat colored timbs. I held my breath, bit my lip, and smiled. I always loved new customers. Especially sexy, new customers.
"Mrs. Phillips. I'm Simone, co-owner of the salon. You can just follow me and I will take care of you today." She took my extended hand and enveloped it with her own warm one.
"Um, just go ahead and follow me to my station." I said as I lead her to my chair in the front of the salon. Deidre, hot-comibing at her station directly beside mine, looked at Mrs. Phillips and smirked at me. I shook my head and mouthed silently, "Oh my GOD!"
"Mrs. Phillips I'm-" I started. She held up her hand, chuckled and frowned, "Does it look like a have a ring on my finger? It's Ms. Phillips. I don't plan to be married anytime soon."
I wondered if she could see me blushing, despite the deeply-bronzed tone of my skin. "I'm sorry Ms. Phillips. I'm just so used to an older clientele."
"Simone right?," she asked. I nodded and she continued. "Simone, feel free to call me Kendra. I don't do the formal titles or anything. The only people who call me Ms. Phillips are my kids."
I frowned as I draped a cape around her neck. "You've got kids?," I asked curiously. She sure didn't look like anyone's baby momma to me. I noticed her short, tapered cut. She kept a really short nappy fro, with a serious shape up. It didn't look like she was in need of anything major. In fact, she could have washed her hair at home. Why was she here in my chair?
She smiled a wide, beautiful smile which revealed some quite lovely teeth. "I'm a teacher and a coach. I teach seventh and eigth grade."
I nodded my head and tried not to act too interested. But, yes I wanted to know more. However, I reasoned in my head, that she was a customer, and I had to act professionally.
"So since you're new here, would you mind filling out a survey for us. It's not much at all. Just a few questions asking you about your hair care practices, so on and so forth. It's also like a customer service feedback form. So I'll give it to you when I'm done, and you can just provide us with a little bit of feedback about your services. We just want to know if you're satisfied or not. Ok?"
She took the clipboard, pulled a pen from her pocket, and nodded her head. I stepped back for a while and admired her as she concentrated on her survey. From the looks of it, she couldn't be anymore than about twenty eight or nine. She was tall, just the way I liked them, with a solid, yet graceful stature. When she stood up to out the pen back in her pocket, she towered above me. I was only about 5,5 and she had to be 6,2. But I've always had a thing for tall women. Tall dominant women. Mmm mm mm.
I swiveled her around in the chair, facing her towards the mirror. She wore dark rimmed glasses, that complimented her deep dark brown eyes. Her nose was broad yet pointed, an appropriate fit for her face. I admired her well defined cheek bones as well as her pointed chin. She had a peculiar, yet unique face. But I liked it. But most of all, I was loving those evenly toned, thick, luscious, lips. Just as I imagined sucking the bottom one, she snapped me back into reality.
"Umm, I hope the receptionist told you that I really didn't want much done. Just a shape up and a wash." she said. I noticed the richness of her voice. She didn't seem like your typical dominant female to me. Contrary to being harsh, overly aggressive, and quite ignorant, she seemed to be to complete opposite. She had a laid back feel to her. It was always nice to know there were still a few good women left out there.
"Well I will take good care of you. Let me just ask you this one question?"
She smiled and I went on. "Why don't you just wash your hair at home. It's really short, and would air dry easily. Then you could just run some grease through it when it's done. It's really simple."
We looked at each other in the mirror as she replied. "Well, you're right Simone. I could just wash it in the morning, before I head out to work. Or I could simply do it before I hit the bed at night. But I'm telling you right now, there's nothing like having another person run their hands through your head."
I chuckled and placed both of my hands on her shoulders, while bending over and whispering in her ear playfully, "I know exactly what you mean."
I motioned for her to follow me to the sinks. She made herself comfortable, fitting her neck perfectly in the nook, and arching her head perfectly to make my job easier. She looked up at me and I reminded myself to remove her glasses.
"Now you don't mind if I take these for a second, do you?" I asked.
"Be my guest, Simone." The way she said my name sent shivers down my spine. Damn this woman was too fine for my own comfort. I squirmed a bit as I pulled her glasses from her face and set them on the side of the sink. I thought to myself, "Simone, she is a CUSTOMER! You know better that to try to flirt with her. Besides, none of your employees except for Ramone and Deidre know about your lifestyle. Stop while you're ahead girl before you get yourself into some serious trouble."
"Is the water too hot for you?, " I asked as I sprayed the lukewarm water on her scalp. I looked down at her face. She had closed her eyes, which looked even more spectacular without her glasses. "Mmmm Simone. That feels so damn good."
I chuckled uncomfortably. She opened her eyes and quickly apologized. I told her not to worry.
"Just close your eyes and relax. This is supposed to be a rejuvinating experience for you."
I placed sweetly scented shampoo into my palm, before running it ever so gently through her short hair. Working the substance through her hair, I eventually made my way to her scalp, which I massaged and lightly kneaded with the tips of my fingers. I studied her face intently, as I continued the process after rinsing out the shampoo. Each time though, I applied more pressure to her scalp, intensifying my motions. She squirmed and smiled simultaneously, before letting out a few low groans which only I heard. Instantly, my fingers stopped moving.
"Am I hurting you?" I asked with a smirk.
She opened her eyes and looked up at me disappointedly. "Don't stop. Your hands feel good. I don't know where you learned to work it like that girl."
I rolled my eyes playfully and finished the job. For some reason, I think my ass was enjoying the wash more than she was, and I was doing the damn work. At one point, I closed my eyes, and imagined that my fingers running through her hair, except this time I was grabbing on for dear life as she thrusted herself on top of me. Thank goodness I snapped out of it.
After the shampoo and conditioner, she once again found herself in my chair. "Girl, I'm going to have to compliment you. You sure know how to use those hands, " she commented, smiling.
"Well, you know a sista got skills. What can I say?, " I joked.
"Oh really? I wonder what other skills this sista got?," she asked in a low tone, just loud enough for me to hear. I bit my bottom lip and briefly stood there to relish in the tension. It was a good tension, the kind brought about by playful, yet dangerous flirtation. Again, I silently reminded myself that she was a customer and I was a professional businesswoman.
She broke the silence. "Um, does it really look like I need a cut?"
I put my hand on my hip and raised my eyebrow. "Actually, I think you already know that answer. Your shape-up looks like it could last another week, possibly another week and a half. You look- I mean your hair looks damn good."
She flashed that million dollar smile and began to remove her cape and stood up. "So I assume you don't need that cut after all?"
"No, I think you're right. Besides I just came in here to check the place out. I've driven past so many times. I usually go to the barber anyway. I don't look like the beauty salon type, do I?." We chuckled in agreement and stood looking at each other for a brief moment. I looked up at her face as she stared down at mine, and for some reason, I knew we both felt the energy. I wanted to say something but I didn't know how to say it. I wasn't officially out, but neither was I "in." I'd had two steady boyfriends my entire life. One at the age of five, and the last one was my prom date. Relationships weren't too high on my list, especially after I started taking care of Hasina. I just never got around to dating people. So now, as I looked up in this beautiful woman's eyes, I was startled and at the same time put at ease by her easiness and casual mannerisms. She seemed perfectly fine with the situation. In fact, I knew she read the longing in my eyes. Somehow she knew that now was not the right time or place to make moves. I had a business to run. She respected that.
"Don't I have to fill out the rest of that survey?," she asked. So I stepped back into reality, and away from the realms of my thoughts to hand her her information sheet. She grabbed her glasses and thoughtfully answered the remainder of the questions. I busied myself but cleaning up my station, but I watched her reflection in my mirror. It was only about five, but I decided to call it early that day, despite the fact that it was a friday. Deidre would have no problems closing down by herself. She never did it anyway and I needed a break.
"Done, " she said while handing me the paper. She stood up and checked herself out in the mirror. "Looks good, even though you didn't do much at all," she joked.
I playfully hit her in the stomach. To my suprise, even through the fabric of her sweater and the numerous other layers I presumed her to be wearing, her stomach felt tight. "Let me keep it together up in here," I thought to myself, "before I fuck around and cum on myself. This woman is too much for me."
"Hey, I'll have you know that washing hair properly is an advanced and learned art. It takes alot of practice and technique."
"Hmm, well uh, let me know anytime if you'd like to practice on me, because it felt good."
I nodded and failed in my attempt to hide my grin.
"How much do I owe you?"
"It's free of charge. You're a new customer, and I want you to come back. Besides, it was nothing but a little wash. I haven't even put it on you yet."
She looked down at her timbs to hide her smile. I laughed as I walked her to the door. "You want to schedule another appointment on your way out Ms. Phillips?"
Suprisingly, she said, "No, not really. I'll drop by one day again, you can be sure of that. Thanks for everything though Simone."
She opened the door, and the cold November frost hit me. Damn it was cold out there. "You're welcome Ms. Phillips," I said and waved as she placed the key in her forest green altima.
I turned around hurriedly to go back into the warmth of the salon. Just then, she said behind me, "It's Kendra!"
"What?," I turned around and yelled.
"It's Kendra. Not Ms. Phillips. Just Kendra," she shouted from the parking lot, and sunk into her car.
I returned to the salon. "Ok Kendra. I'll be waiting for you," I said to myself and smirked.
As I returned to the salon, Ayanna harrassed me immediately. I loved the girl, but she was a nosy mothafucka for real. "She's new," she said briefly, waiting for me to elaborate.
"Yea I know. I think we'll be seeing a lot more of her in the future."
She looked disappointed, as if she wanted to know about the woman. I knew Ayanna was a lady lover from the various women who picked her up in the evenings. At least that's what I could surmise, based upon their baggy jeans, braided heads, and "hard" demeanors. Her type was the thuggish type. I could appreciate a thug for a short amount of time, only for their rough aggressiveness. However, it always seemed like those types had something to prove. Besides, they all looked like they had the same dress code, from which they refused to deviate. Secretly I wanted the agressiveness of one of these females, but I also I wanted a woman. Yes, a woman who was secure in her own identity, with her own personal sense of style and sense of self. But it seemed that this type of woman was yet to be found.
I headed to the back for my belongings and walked up to Deidre. She was busy spraying setting lotion in a customer's hair. My best friend already read my mind. "You don't even have to tell me. You're taking the rest of the day off and you want me to lock up."
I giggled and got straight to the point. I whispered, nearly mouthed, "Girl did you see her? She was FIIIIIIIINE! I didn't know what to do with myself at ALL. I dont even know what she was doing in here. She belongs at the barber shop, not the beauty salon."
Deidre just laughed and nodded. She and I had grown close during our years at Howard University. We'd grown up in D.C., however, we experienced completely different childhoods. She'd grown up in the harder neighborhoods of Southeast where drugs and violence run rampant. She was a product of a single family home, and the youngest of five children. Dee worked her way through college, where she met me, and afterwards, she and I pursued our dreams. Mine was to start a successful business, a useful one where I could cater to the needs of beautiful and busy african american women.
I just wanted to use my business degree anyway I wanted to. My parents had other plans for me. I guess when you're a child, your parents envision your life for you before you even know what life itself is all about. They don't give you the chance to make mistakes, because they already figure that they've done enough mistaking for you to have already learned. However, we're all humans and need to grow as individuals without the meddling of parents. I grew up in Northwest Washington, D.C., oppositely located from the hard neighborhoods of Southeast. My parents owned a home on what many of the city's Black elite call the gold coast. Both of my parents are third generation college graduates, my mother being a third generation Howard graduate. I admit, they are uppity black folks, and my sister and I were privy to the lifestyle as children.
My sister Nina, and I, had the finest of everything. We attended Jack and Jill meetings, an invite-only group for children of affluent African-Americans. We had the best clothing, food, training, education, everything. Nina took a different route than I did, and she married young at the age of eighteen, and started her own family. I was still in middle school, but I knew that Mom and Dad did not appreciate her breaking the proud line of college graduates. So when my turn came along, I opted for Howard. It was close to home, yet rich with the college experience. During my time there, I hooked up with Dee, and we've kept it jumping ever since.
Dee's the loud and outspoken one. The one who is never afraid to tell it like it is, and plenty of times she's told me about myself. I love her anyway. Her flamboyant personality definitely fits her loud appearance. At this time, her hair was in a koolaid blue bob. She had three piercings on her face, two in her eye brow, and one labret piercing. She was about my height, but about 180 pounds compared to my 135 pounds. I loved her and she was my best friend, there was just no mistaking that.
So now, as she rolled a customer's hair, she read the smirk on my face carefully as she always does. "Simone, you should just go after her. Did you at least get her number?," she asked dramatically.
I looked down at my feet and tried to ignore the question. She knew what was up. "That's cuz yo' ass is a punk Simone, and you know it. She looked like a good catch. You need to make your own opportunities happen, especially when they're staring you in the damn face girl."
"I know, I know, but you know it's not right. We have to be professionals."
She snapped her neck and faced me. "Professionals? Fuck that Simone, we own this shit. I can be as muthafuckin unprofessional in this bitch as I want to because this shit is mine. Fuck is wrong wit' you?," she yelled. A few customers looked our way but then continued reading their various magazines. Dee was from the streets. That's one thing I could tell you.
"Look," she whispered, "all I'm saying is that you need to fuckin get yours. You worked to hard for all this shit not to enjoy it with someone girl. We all know you aint neva gon' have no man and if you think you walkin' around here hidin' that shit you got another thing comin' to yo' ass. Mhmm."
I played it off. "What are you talking about Dee?"
"Don't give me that shit girl. We all see how your ass be gawkin' when Ayanna's lil sluts be comin up in here. All thugged out and shit. You know you like it and WE know you like it cuz your ass cant stop droolin when they come up in here projecting that fake ass thug image."
"So what if I look at them?"
"SO WHAT? Simone! You shoulda seen that cheesy ass grin on ya damn face when Miss Fro came up in here today. You were beaming from ear to ear. And she aint even put none on ya ass yet. I can only imagine what that would be like."
I smiled as I imagined it too. In my head, I counted the years since I'd been intimate with anyone....5,6,...it'd been too damn long.
"Take the rest of the day off. Get your shit together, and come back tomorrow. I got everything under control in here." That's my girl Dee, always holding me down no matter what.
"I love you Dee."
"Yea whatever pitiful."
I smiled and gather my things from my station. On the counter was Kendra's survey. In ordinary cases, I would have given the sheet to Ayanna to file for future reference. But something told me that Kendra wasn't an ordinary case. I stuffed the paper in my bag and left the salon to head home.
***
My car pulled up into the driveway of my three level townhouse in Upper Marlboro, Maryland. It was about seven by the time I'd picked up my dry cleaning, and dinner for my neice Hasina, and I. As I got out of the car, she peaked through the door, and yelled from the house.
"Aunty Sim, hurry up, I'm HUNGRY!!!!"
"Oh girl, please, you'll survive. While you out here, you can help me with this dry cleaning."
She scurried out of the house, wearning only her pajamas and no socks. "It's coooooold out here," she said as her teeth chattered.
She grabbed the take out. "I'll take that."
I shook my head and laughed as I struggled to carry the dry cleaning in the house. The lights were on in the den, along with the television and the radio.
It's Flex and Rayne up on PGC and you know we do it big for the D-dot-C, I said rep ya hood like it's all good, rep ya hood like it's all good!
"Girl do you need to have every damn appliance running in this house. I bet if i go upstairs, the toaster is on."
She laughed as she clicked the radio and television off.
"How was your day Aunty Sim?" she asked.
"It was ok I guess, " I said, taking my jacket off. "Nothing too exciting. Same old stuff just a different day. Mama's best friend was up there though. Talkin' bout some she want me to mess with one of her boys."
Hasina rolled her eyes. She couldn't stand Mrs. Jimason either. "Well my day was ok. We're going on a trip to New York in Februrary so you're gonna have to pay for that. Umm, I got an A on my grammar test. And I think I did really well on my Earth science presentation today. That's it for me."
I smiled as we both made our way upstairs to the dining room. Although it was just the two of us in the house, we made it a nightly ritual of eating together at the table. We ate all meals together, and prayed before every one of them. Even if it was simply takeout.
Hasina quickly rushed into the kitchen, pulling out the appropriate silverware from the drawers and plates from the cabinets. "Juice or soda?" she yelled from the kitchen.
"Bring us both juice. You need to lay off that soda for a while," I commented.
"Aww, Aunty Sim. It's not that serious."
"Mhmm, girl sit down here at this table and let's say grace."
We sat down together and I started, "Lord, bless this food we are about to receive. We pray that it will nourish our bodies and minds, and provide us with the strength we need to continue to function properly in our daily lives. Thankyou for all that you provide. You have blessed us and we are truly grateful. Amen."
"Amen, now let's eat," said Hasina.
"Hungry, why wait?," I joked.
I starred at my neice as she scarfed down the semi-warm beef-and broccoli. I barely touched my orange chicken and fried rice. I was content knowing that Hasina was taken care of for the night, since she was my main concern.
Looking at her, I thought to myself, "This is most definitely my sister's child."
Hasina was conceived out of wedlock, but nonetheless was raised in a two parent household. My sister and Hasina's father, Manuel had been together ever since diapers. Everyone knew that one day they'd get married, so it was no suprise when Nina became pregnant. She'd already decided against college and moved into Manuel's apartment, since he was three years older than her. When she became pregnant with Hasina, they decided to seal the deal and make it official.
Manuel, took over his father's successful florist business, while Nina stayed at home and raised Hasina. She loved her child from the moment of conception. Hasina was a spitting image of her mother. Those almond shaped deep brown exotic eyes, which most likely came from our family's American Indian roots. She also had that thick, long black hair which Nina took extra care in plaiting every Sunday. She had Manuel's complexion, a creamy smooth caramel one, compliments of his Cuban ancestry. Hasina had always been bright, energetic, and charismatic girl, gaining a mixture of her personal qualties from both of her beautiful and intelligent parents. Nina opted to put off college, but by no means was she anyone's fool. She just chose an unconventional path, and she was quite happy with her decisions.
Unfortunately, two months after my college graduation, Nina and Manuel were involved in a deadly car wreck which instantly killed Manuel, and left my big sis on life support. They were on their way to pick up Hasina from my place after I agreed to keep her during their two-week getaway, which I ironically suggested. I always ranted and raved that they never got any time to themselves, and they needed to keep things fresh in their relationship.
When I lost my sister, a part of me somehow died, or at least I thought it did. She was my backbone, my hero, my strengh, my idol. I looked up to her in every way. It's not that I wanted to follow her path in life, or be exactly like her, but she was the portrait of an exceptional human being. Her heart was generous and kind, and she lived her life like the current day would be her last. Therefore, she made sure that everyone in her path felt the love in her spirit and she passed that feeling on to her daughter.
Mom took Hasina for the first two years althought I offered initially. However, I was fresh out of college and trying to get on my own feet, in addition to getting my business off the ground. I was struggling just by myself, so I was in no condition to properly take care of a child. But these last few years have been good to me, and after Daddy died of a stroke last year, Mom decided that she was getting to old to handle the responsibility of a child. When Hasina came to live with me, however, I realized that she was not a child anymore, but a blossoming teenager.
So there I sat with her that evening, watching her devour the take-out, as I picked my plate.
"Aunty Sim, are you going to eat?"
I shook my head and smiled. "So tell me what else is going on in your world."
"Well, I got a note from my teacher, Mrs. Simpkins. She teaches Social Studies, as well as English. I asked her what it was about and she said that she wants to have a meeting with you."
"Are you in trouble," I asked skeptically. Hasina was an angel. She never caused trouble, so what in the world was this all about?
"No I'm not in trouble. At least I don't think so. I have an A in social studies and English. Those are my favorite subjects."
I looked down at my plate and yawned. Suddenly, my body was overcome by fatigue. It had indeed been a long day of standing on my feet and taking customers. I just wanted to retire to my room and lie down. Maybe I'd catch something good on TV.
"Baby, could you put my food in the fridge. I'm not too hungry right now." I stood up. "I'm gonna go upstairs and call it a night."
"Eight o'clock on a Friday night? Aunty Sim, you should be out getting your club on!," she said while play dancing at the table. We both chuckled.
"No, I've been on my feet all day trying to deal with customers, and employees who talk on my phone too much. Speaking of that, don't let me find up you were on my phone till God knows when talking up a storm with God knows who. Go to bed at a reasonable time."
"Awww Aunty Sim, I'm just talking to my friends! And three o'clock is a reasonable time."
"Friends my behind. Watch yourself girl."
With that said, I headed up two flights of stairs to the master bedroom. My room was a quiet refuge from everything else. In the center was a four post cherrywood framed queen-sized bed with always crisp white sheets. It was neatly made, with about eight pillows piled together, on top of the sheets. I grabbed the remote off of my dresser and clicked the television on, placing it on low volume then plopped down on my bed with a big sigh.
It was always nice to lay down and relax after being on my feet all day. While the TV provided the only light, I closed my eyes, and allowed all of the day's stress to leave my body. I giggled to myself about Mrs. Jimason, and made a mental note to myself to call Mom. And then I saw her face. Kendra.
I remembered everthing about her, from that smooth, rich colored skin, to her silky smooth voice. The way she moaned when I ran my fingers through her hair made me let out a little moan myself. Her stature impressed and intimidated me. I could only imagine those long, strong arms arms, bare and around my naked body, rocking me to sleep as she whispered in my ear I love you Simone. I visualized her naked body hovering over mine, sweat produced by intense love-making- dripping onto my own torso, as she graciously moved, stroking my insides with furious intenisty.
My own fingers had already unbuttoned my jeans, and found themselves pushing my panties to the side, to feel my own creaminess oozing out. My hands felt good, but I'm sure hers felt alot better. They were probably more deft, more skilled, more talented. I'm sure she had plenty of tricks up her sleeve...I wanted my fingers to become her fingers, gliding in and out of me gently. My body would reply by tightly wrapping itself around, not letting her go at all, while she magically made me wetter and wetter. That made it easier for her to please me. I gripped the pillows and bit my lip, fearful that Hasina would hear me.
KNOCK KNOCK! Oh shit, I thought.
"What, uh, yea, Hasina?," I yelled, rushing to button my pants.
"Grandma is on the line!," she said. I groaned. My mother was always fucking shit up for me. Damn!
I hurried and opened the door, taking the phone from Hasina. "Yea Mom."
"Yea Mom? Whatever happened to 'Hello Mother?' I know I taught you better than that." She was always on my case about something. 'Wear you hair like this," or "You need to find a man," or "Why don't you work out, you look fat." Sometimes, I found it hard not to yell out, "BITCH, leave me alone." But she was my mother, and by some silly natural law, I had to love her. It's not like a had a choice in the matter when I was conceived. I was destined to always be Glenda Davis' baby daughter. I might as well still be wearing my fucking bonnet and pissing in my diaper. I'm sure she would have no problem changing them at all.
"Hello Mother, how are you?," I asked, only actually caring a little bit. The more she nagged, the less I seemed to care.
"I'm fine thankyou, and yourself?," she asked in a satisfied tone. She liked to get to me. That woman.
"I'm fine. I'm just a bit tired today. You know how things get at the shop on a Friday evening. But I took off early so that I could come home and relax."
"Hmmph. You need to come home early everyday so that Hasina gets the proper supervision. It's ridiculous how you let that child stay at home by herself until you can stumble into your house at night. You better be lucky she's not a problem child, or else you'd have some trouble on your hands." Suddenly, I remembered that Hasina's teacher wanted to schedule a meeting with me. Oh boy. Ma always had a way of being right.
"Anyway," I said in a sarcastic tone, "things are going fine. Hasina's doing well in school and we're managing over here. I'm sure she told you that, when you tried to dig out all the information on my life that you could through her."
She then got straight to the point, "You know May was over there today. She said she talked to you." By May, she meant Mrs. Jimason. I knew this was what the phone call was all about.
"Yes mother, we talked, and she suggested that I date one of her sons, " I said. She laughed, "One of those crackheads? Over my dead body!" Then she got serious again, "Sweetheart, she's right though. You need a man to raise Hasina. Your Daddy's gone and she needs some sort of positive male influence in her life. You can't do it alone."
"I'm tired of you telling me what I can and cannot do. I don't think you believe in my ability to be a good parent," I snapped.
"Simone, I didn't say that. Besides, if I didn't believe in your ability, Hasina would be sitting here with me right now. But I do. I just don't think that you can be as effective by yourself. You're a busy woman with alot on her plate. Hasina needs someone to look up to. A man."
"Mom," I said, "I don't have time to look for a man right now. Why should I go looking anyway? You know I don't do clubs or bars. I'm all about my business and raising my neice. That's what I'm dedicated to right now, and if the right person comes along in the meantime, then so be it."
"Simone, you haven't had a real date since the god damned twelfth grade! When the hell are you going to realize that a man is not going to come to your behind?!," she screamed. I silently contemplated whether or not I should hang up the phone. I decided against it and ended the conversation civily: "Look mother, I am perfectly fine without a man in my life. I don't need a man to be my crutch. I don't need to depend on a man, because I have myself. If I wanted one, don't you think I could have gone out and gotten one already. I'm cute with a nice shape, I'm intelligent, and I'm self-sufficient. If those are not attractive qualities, then I don't know what are."
On the other end of the line, she sighed and gave up. "You sound like one of those damned feminist faggots Simone. Every damn woman needs some good dick in her life, and I don't think you're getting any at all. Enjoy that cute figure and face all you want now, cuz when you get to be my age, no one wants you anymore."
I looked at the time. 10 o'clock. "Mom, I hope you have a nice night. I'm going to bed. You can pick up Hasina in the morning to take her shopping. I love you, goodbye." With that said, I pushed "OFF" and placed the phone on the dresser.
The last thing I wanted was to be called a faggot by anyone, let alone my mother. I knew what I felt in my heart, by body, even in my bones. I knew that no man could give me the overall satisfaction that a woman could. Her smell, her hips, her thighs....her aura. I was in love with the entire sex, and men just couldn't do it for me. I'd just never openly acknowledged it. I'd never been in a relationship with a woman let alone been intimate with one. By nature, I had always been a shy person, so I never attracted any attention to myself.
It's not that I wasn't pretty. I knew I was beautiful, I just considered myself low maintenance. I took off my clothes and walked over to the mirror. My bare body was nothing to ashamed of. I'd never had self-esteem issues, although my mother always pressured me to lose weight. I thought I was perfect, even though I'd never let anyone know that. I considered myself short, only about five feet four inches. My weight was evenly spread at about 135 pounds. My skin was perfectly bronzed and even. Turning around, I examined my ass, of which I had a nice little helping. I was petite and even.
I walked closer to the mirror and examined my facial features. When anyone saw me, they automatically were captured by my golden even shoulder length dread locks. I had a cute square shaped face, like Daddy did. Mother always said I was my father's child. While Nina got all of her features, I got everything from Daddy except for my almond shaped eyes, which belonged of course to my mother who was part American Indian. Other than that, I had Daddy's cute button nose, his square chin, and pouty lips. I even had his wonderful dazzling smile, which would always win me over when I was down.
There was nothing wrong with me. I just never flaunted what I had, because I wasn't one for attention from men. I didn't take too well to hooting and hollering from the guys on Howard's campus. Makeup was never my thing, despite the fact that I worked in a beauty salon. Even my dreads were the result of giving up on my hair after years of perms and mismanagement. I was a natural beauty, who had no problem in sweats, jeans, sneakers, t-shirts, and baseball caps.
I smiled, satisfied with my reflection and took a shower. Before I went to sleep, I imagined the look on my face if I ever told my mother about the reason I hadn't had a date in almost ten years. I closed my eyes, and decided that she'd freak. I giggled to myself, and thought about Kendra, laying next to me.
***
I'm always amazed at how fast the weekend travels. Saturday morning came, and Mom picked Hasina up early so they could spend the entire weekend together. I had the house to myself, but I spent most of my time in the salon. Saturday was always a busy day of course, and we were closed Sundays. However, I still went in to do some cleaning and write paychecks. The salon was quiet, just the way I liked it, so of course Sunday was a productive day. Mom always insisted that I go to church with her but I'd had quite enough of St. Luke's Episcopal Church's conservatism for the first twenty years of my life. I was churched out for real.
I never went in on Monday's, so even though business was as usual, Dee was doing the supervising and not I. She took saturdays off anyway since she was a seventh day adventist.
Hasina left for school around seven, and I woke up soon after. Cleaning up the house was never a daunting task, as others might think, because I was a neat freak. Even at work, I was always straightening up my station and putting things back in their place and I encouraged my employees to do the same.
I had a few errands to run, and on my way back to the house, I decided to stop by Hasina's school. I didn't have an appointment with Mrs. Simpkins, her teacher, but I figured it was lunch time and she might have been free. So I pulled up to the parking lot, and entered the solid, brown brick structure of Benjamin Tasker Middle School. I headed to the main office, and silently cursed myself for showing up looking so unpresentable. I had on a grey Howard sweatshirt, a matching hat, and some Levi's with a pair of gray new balances. Before I entered the main office, I took my hat off, like it really made a huge difference.
I approached a secretary. "Good afternoon. My name is Simone Davis, I'm Hasina Perez's aunt and guardian."
"Good morning Mrs. Davis, what can I do for you today?," she asked with a smile.
"Uh, actually it's Ms. Davis," I corrected her awkwardly. She apologized and I continued. "Well, her teacher, Mrs. Simpkins asked to meet with me. I was in the neighborhood, and I just stopped by, to see if she's available. I figured it was lunchtime."
"Well actually she is available, but parents meet with teachers by appointment only. Just so that it's a time that's convenient for both of you. Would you like me to call her down so that you two can figure out something?," she asked. I smiled and said yes. After a quick conversation on the phone, she looked up.
"Well Ms. Davis, she said that if you're willing to wait, she'll be with you in about ten minutes."
I nodded politely and said, "Yes, thankyou."
"Just have a seat in the chairs outside of the office and she will be with you soon."
I turned to leave the office, and slowly took a seat in the hallway. All was quiet, except for the murmuring of teachers, giving their various lessons on everything from sedintary rock, to the triangle slave trade. I smiled to myself, remembering the perils of grade school. It seemed like ages ago, when in reality, it was less than fifteen years. Time does fly. I let out a brief chuckle, but stopped when I heard footsteps accompanied by voices. I didn't think I would make a good first impression by looking as if I was laughing to myself.
The voices were approaching from around the corner as I erected my torso in the seat.
"Mrs. Simpkins, you are a trip! You alway make me laugh during lunchtime. That's why I can't drink anything around you. I'm too afraid it won't stay inside my mouth," said a rich, playful voice.
My ears perked..."I know that voice," I said to myself. I shook my head. "No, it couldn't be."
Just then, a dark-skinned, heavy woman, about my mother's age approached me with her hand reached out.
"Ms. Davis?," she asked.
I nodded, "Yes. I'm Ms. Davis. You must be Mrs. Simpkins. Nice to meet you." We shook hands and smiled.
"Ms. Davis, I'm sorry you caught me a bad time. I was on my lunch break, and I had other things to take care of. I just wanted to talk to you briefly about Hasina."
"Is she ok? Is there something wrong?," I asked. Now I was genuinely concerned, from her solemn tone of voice.
Mrs. Simpkins smiled and said, "NO! No, Ms. Davis there is absolutely nothing wrong with Hasina. She's as good as she can be. That's actually what I wanted to talk you about. She's making excellent strides in all of her subjects, especially the ones that I teach. I've talked with her other teachers and she's the top student in all of her classes. She demonstrates enormous potential, and I don't want it to go to waist."
"So what do you suggest we do about this?," I asked.
"Well, I don't know exactly, but I wanted to throw an option in your direction. There are so many different ways to cultivate a child's mind. I'm afraid that Hasina is bored here, which is unfortunate, because this is the foremost middle school in the county. The level of instruction here is the highest out of any of the schools, therefore transferring her to another magnet program is not an option. You may want to explore private tutoring, or simply voice or intrumental lessons, since she has demonstrated a propensity for music."
Again, I nodded, not knowing what exactly to say. I always knew Hasina was smart, but she never mentioned anything to me about getting bored. Besides, where was I going to have the time to take her to private lessons, and tutoring? Maybe mother could help out.
"Who do you suggest I ask for this tutoring and private music lessons?"
"Well," she said, as she pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, "I made a list of my personal friends in the area who would be willing to give Hasina lessons for free. I told them about her extraordinary talents, and her gift for learning. They all said they would be happy to schedule times that are most convenient for you. They could even come over in the evenings, or work something out to drop her off at home after lessons."
"Wow, I don't know what to say," I uttered, smiling proudly at the thought of my neice.
"You don't have to say anything. It's the least I could do."
As I beamed from ear to ear, the office door opened.
"Mrs. Simpkins, lunch is almost over. You know it's time to get back to work!"
That voice again! I looked up, only to see her standing there again, tall and beautiful. My heart nearly jumped out of my throat as I beheld Kendra looking more professional this time, with loose, tailored black slacks to fit her slender body, a crisp white oxford shirt, and some suede Hush Puppie loafers gracing her feet.
"Simone?," she asked, looking down at me.
Oh god, I looked a mess. Sweats, jeans, and dirty tennis shoes. All I could think of was where the nearest exit was and how quickly I could run. I could feel my bronzed cheeks becoming more crimson by the second. I managed to let out a barely audible, "Hey Kendra."
She turned on that brilliant smile and said, "What are you doing here? I wasn't hoping to see you until I came back to the shop on friday! What a small world!" In her hand she held a mug of coffee, and in the other she held a stack of files. What the hell was SHE doing at my neice's school? This was too creepy! She must think I'm a stalker. She must think that I look a mess. She must think....wait a minute? Did she just say that she was coming back on friday?
"You were coming back on friday?, " I asked her bewilderedly.
Kendra moved closer to where I was sitting, and I got to take in the full beauty of her graceful height. "Of course I was coming. You did a great job and I liked the service. Plus I was just coming back, because it was really cheap. I was hoping you could hook a sista up again. You know what I mean?," she laughed.
Mrs. Simpkins playfully hit her on the thigh and got up, "Girl move out of the way. I didn't know you knew Ms. Davis."
"Well, I didn't know her name was Ms. Davis. I just knew that she owns a salon in Bowie. It's really nice in there."
"Are you talking about the full service salon especially for women of color? The one that ALL the women at church can't seem to get enough of?," asked Mrs. Simpkins.
OK, now my cheeks were redder than ever. "Yes, New Nubian, is the name of the salon. I own it, along with my friend Deidre Harrison. And we do cater to the needs of African American women. If you ever need anything done, just give me a call or walk in. The first visit is free of charge, as Kendra...excuse me, Ms. Phillips pointed out." I was in full business mode. I even handed Mrs. Simpkins one of my business cards.
"So Simone...I mean, Mrs. Davis," Kendra said playfully, "what brings you to this school?"
"Well, first of all I'm not married. Second, I'm here because Mrs. Simpkins teaches my neice Hasina. We were just discus-"
"Hasina Perez? The brightest seventh grader in the entire building? I teach her earth science. She gave an excellent presentation yesterday on tectonic plates and the shifting in the earth's crust. Wow, you must be really proud." I saw the beam on Kendra's face. Somehow that made me even more proud.
Mrs. Simpkins interrupted: "Remeber, Mrs. Davis, how I was telling you about people willing to offer musical lessons to Hasina. Well Mrs. Phillip, or Kendra, or whatever you'd like to call her, is offering string lessons to you free of charge. She's one of the people on the list I gave to you."
I finally stood up and faced Kendra. I felt comforted by her height, and I also caught a whiff of her cologne, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I savored it for a milisecond before she started.
"I would be happy to teach Hasina. I played most of the string instruments except for the bass. I play violin, viola, cello. If she's interested I'd be more than happy to work out a weekly schedule with you and her. Perhaps I could come over in the evenings."
WHAT? OK, Simone, just breathe. This was happening way too damn fast for me. First I meet this fine woman in my shop, then I run into her at her own job. And she just happens to teach my neice. AND she just happens to play three instruments. And she just happens to be a vision of beauty...who smells quite wonderful, and makes my weak little heart sigh. Oh Lord, help me.
"Um, sure," I said, as I collected my belongings on the chair, "I will give you a call this evening and we can work out something."
"That's great. But I have to get to my class, so I'll be looking forward to your call." And just like that, with a smile, she turned, and strode down the hallway towards the classrooms. I looked at the back of her head, the head that I'd had my hands on just a few days ago. Mm, mm, mm.
"Well, Ms. Davis, I'd better get going too. Thankyou for dropping by. And I'd just like to say that it is an honor to have Hasina as my student. She is one of the best and brightest I have ever taught during my twenty five years."
We shook hands again. "Why thankyou Mrs. Simpkins. Thankyou for your help and you have a nice day."
"I surely will," she said and walked in same direction as Kendra.
Placing my Howard hat back on my head, I sighed, shook my head, and smiled at the same time. "Good lord, that woman is too damn fine for her own self, let alone for me. I don't stand a chance," I muttered to myself.
I headed back towards my car and made a mental note tonite to ask Hasina about violin lessons.
***
