Courtin' Jayd (Drama High series Book 6)

by L. Divine

  “Why, so you can lie some more?” I can see the downstairs neighbor’s light turn on. I knew we would wake someone up with our noise. I hate being the cause of any drama, especially at my mom’s house. She likes to keep her business out of the mouths of her neighbors when possible.

  “What are you talking about? I never lied to you,” he says. I turn around halfway up the stairs and put my hands on my hips, shooting him a piercing look.

  “Did you lie about me braiding your hair?” Rah looks at me and shakes his head from side to side. He looks down at his feet and holds the rails with both his hands, leaning back and taking a deep breath. He looks up at me with a stare I can’t read. Does it bother him that he lied to Trish or that he hurt my feelings?

  “I just told her that so she wouldn’t sweat me. What’s the big deal?” he says, shrugging his shoulders. I walk down the two steps between us and get up in his face. I want him to hear me loud and clear without me having to yell. Why do I feel like I’m training him on how to be a good friend? Shouldn’t he know this by now?

  “The big deal is that I deserve all the credit for my work.” I can’t explain it but it’s more than the credit that pisses me off. There’s something very intimate and powerful about braiding and I don’t appreciate him not being proud of me as the weaver of his crown.

  “Hey Jayd, did I hear right?” Cedric, my mom’s downstairs neighbor, says out his front window. “You braid hair? How much for fifteen cornrows straight back?” Rah looks at me sternly and I know he’s already jealous at the possibility of not being my solo client, other than my Uncle Bryan. He knows there’s a serious connection between a client and his hairdresser. He above all my friends should know how serious our bond is.

  “Twenty dollars,” I say, walking back up the stairs. I may be pissed but never stupid when it comes to my money. And I bet Cedric won’t lie about who hooked him up either.

  “Bet. I’ll check you tomorrow,” he says before closing his window and leaving me and Rah alone. I can’t believe that trick knows where my mom lives and had the nerve to step to me.

  “I’ll call you when I get home. I’m sorry about this girl, you have to know that.” And the problem is that I know it all too well. We did solve some shit tonight and I know Trish will think twice about stepping to me the next time she wants to.

  8

  Down To The Root

  “And time it turned/ He tried to burn me like a perm.”

  —LAURYN HILL/THE FUGEES

  “What’s got your panties in a bunch so early in the morning?” my mom says as she sips her coffee. I went to sleep before she got in last night but I know it was around two because she woke me up talking about it on the phone with her best friend, Vivica. Now she’s dressed for a tennis match and ready to go. She must be having a lot of fun with Karl and I’m happy for her. She deserves a man who treats her like a queen.

  “Oh, nothing much. I still can’t believe I don’t have to work this morning,” I say, avoiding telling my mom about the loud argument between Rah, Trish, Tasha, and myself last night. I open the bare refrigerator, look around, and promptly close it. I guess I’ll be making a run to the grocery market today.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she says only half-playing. If she set her mind to it, she’d hear me calling her a bad hostess for not having anything to eat in this house. She is my mother and I am visiting for the weekend, so where’s the nourishment?

  “I heard that,” she says, sipping the last of her coffee. “And I know I should’ve stocked the kitchen but I’ve been too busy this week,” my mom says as she adds the mug and spoon to the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. “Girl, I worked overtime every day to make up for all the days I’ve been taking off with Karl, but believe me it’s been worth it.” Her green eyes sparkle with joy every time she says his name. I guess I can’t blame her for being happy. But do I have to suffer in the meantime?

  “Mom, I’m feeling the love but you know I’m out of a job. I can’t spend what little money I have on groceries.” I take a tea bag out of the box on the counter and put it into a clean coffee mug. At least she’s got hot water.

  “Oh Jayd, stop being so overdramatic,” she says, picking up her tennis bag from the floor by the dining room table. “You’re not starving. There’s Top Ramen and oatmeal. Work it out.” My mom looks at me and I stare back at her, hoping to make her feel a little bit guilty. I would tell Mama on her but it won’t help me get some food in my stomach this morning. My mom’s eyes soften and she reaches into the side of her tennis bag and retrieves her wallet, pulling out a ten dollar bill and placing it on the table.

  “Thank you,” I say walking over to the table to claim the money before she changes her mind. I pick up the bill and tuck it into my purse, also sitting on the table and reminding me of Jeremy’s declaration of love yesterday. Why did he have to ruin our relationship by attempting to buy my pride? And why does my guilt purse have to be so cute?

  “You’re welcome. Just make sure those dishes are clean when I get back.” She takes her jacket off the couch and drapes it around her shoulders. She’s going to be chilly when she steps out that door. But as she tells me too often, I’m not her mama even if the roles seem reversed at times.

  “And when will that be?” I ask as she heads toward the front door. She looks stunning in a blue and white tennis dress with socks and shoes to match. Her matching Adidas jacket is also flyy—another gift from her new beau.

  “Not sure, but I’ll send you a text if I’m not going to make it home.” She slings her bag over her shoulder, checks her purse for her keys, and opens the door, letting the morning cold in. She doesn’t even shiver at the gust of air and I’m ready to jump back under the covers.

  “Have fun and thanks again for the cash.” Honestly, ten dollars is nothing with the price of food going up in Los Angeles County. But if I make some spaghetti and get a box of cereal and some milk, I should be cool until I get back to Mama’s house tomorrow evening.

  “I wish I could do more, Jayd. Enjoy your day,” she says as she heads down the stairs. Before I can close the door, Cedric pokes his head out of his door, yelling up the stairs. “Hey Jayd, when can you hook my braids up?”

  My mom looks back up and winks at me. “We’ll talk about your newfound profession later,” my mom says from her mind to mine. “And tell Rah I said hi. Good morning, Cedric.” Cedric looks at my mom walking down the driveway with his one good eye and almost forgets why he came out of his house at nine in the morning.

  “Good morning, Lynn,” he says. When she gets all the way down the driveway, Cedric walks up the stairs to talk to me. “Damn Jayd, your mama is fine. Do you think she likes younger dudes?” Like I’d ever hook him up with my mama. He must be smoking.

  “In your dreams, Cedric,” I say walking back into the house. My hair is wrapped up tight in a scarf and I still need to get dressed, although my oversize gray sweats and faded blue T-shirt are very comfortable. My comforter and sheets are still on the couch, my makeshift bed that suits me fine on the weekends.

  “How’d you know?” he says, following me into the house. My mom gives him a few dollars here and there to run errands and wash her car from time to time. Cedric works the night shift at the Costco up the street and is usually home asleep during the day. “Don’t be mad when you have to call me Daddy one day real soon.”

  “Whatever, fool. I can hook you up in a little while,” I say, cleaning off the couch. “I need to do my own hair first.” I stack my sleeping bag, comforter, and pillow on the floor next to the couch in front of the small closet where they really belong. I rarely bother putting them up until I leave on Sundays.

  “What kind of customer service is that?” he says, leaning against the open front door. It’s too early in the morning to be harassed. He’s lucky I need the money. Otherwise I’d slam the door in his face and go back to bed.

  “It’ll be the kind where you don’t get any service at all if you keep playing with me.”
My growling stomach makes me remember I’m also supposed to be walking to the market for breakfast. I don’t know if I can make it that long. I would make some oatmeal but she doesn’t have any milk, brown sugar, or butter, which are necessities as far as I’m concerned. Top Ramen’s starting to sound real good.

  “You a little hungry,” he says, amused by my loud bodily functions. I ignore him and walk into the kitchen to check the cupboards for anything that will curb my appetite. I see the packages of chicken-flavored noodles and read the label of one, which expired over the summer. Damn, there goes that idea.

  “Don’t you have something better to do than harass me this early in the day?” My phone vibrates on the dining room table. I walk over to check who’s calling and shoot Cedric an evil look. It’s Rah. What’s he doing up this early?

  “Not really. You got something in mind?” I never take Cedric’s proposals seriously but today I’ve got just the thing for him.

  “Yes, I do,” I say, writing on an empty envelope sitting on the coffee table. “Here’s a list of things I need from the store. By the time you get back I’ll be ready to work. Make it happen.” I pass him the list with the money my mom gave me and shove him out the door.

  “Damn girl, are you serious? There’s a lot of shit on this list.” I can make a dollar stretch.

  “Yes and I want my change. The sooner you get back the sooner you can get your hair braided. Now get.” I should be able to get my hair done before he gets back if I work fast. I don’t want to wait until the end of the day to do it because I may run out of steam. I’d rather accomplish my tasks early in the day and get them over with.

  “Do I get gas money or something?” he says from behind the closed door. Gas is expensive and he is perpetually broke. I can’t do him like that.

  “Okay, you can keep the change,” I yell as I grab my hair bag out of the hall closet and set up shop. A simple flat iron will do me good this morning. I’m not in the mood for anything too fancy. It feels good to be home on a Saturday and have the place to myself, even if I’m not quite alone yet.

  “But that’s only going to be about two dollars by the looks of what you’ve got on this list.” I see he’s good at pinching pennies too.

  “Stop complaining. I’ve hooked you up plenty of times and you know you have to go to the store on a daily basis anyway to get your blunts or whatever. It’s only up the street. How much gas can you burn?”

  “You’ll see when you get your own car. Then you’ll know how a brotha feels.” I can’t wait to know how it feels to have my own car. I’ll check my text message from Rah later. Right now I just want to wash this week out of my head. I doubt I’ll attend the session tonight. The last thing I want is to watch Mickey and Nigel make out or have another run-in with one of Rah’s girls. If I could figure out a way to help him out of this drama, I would do it in a heartbeat. But for now, we’ll both have to deal with his mistakes.

  It feels good to have a clean head. I like the way my hair feels soft and bouncy after a flat iron. When I’ve pressed it before, it’s been much straighter and with less bounce. Jeremy liked it when I wore my hair like this the most. He said it was “aphrodisiactic” and I feel him. I feel like a princess when my crown is light like this. I can hear Cedric walking up the stairs with my groceries and open the door for him to come in. I finished my hair just in time.

  “Hey, what y’all doing over there?” my mom’s next-door neighbor Shawntrese says through her opened door. Cedric brings my groceries inside and takes them directly to the kitchen. Knowing my mom, he probably unpacks them for her too. But unlike her, I can handle the rest on my own.

  “Nothing much. Just braiding Ced’s hair this morning,” I say, standing in the open door looking into her living room. Shawntrese also sleeps on the couch in her mother’s apartment, where she’s still perched from the night before.

  “For real Jayd, you braiding now? Oh you’ve got to hook a sistah up!” Shawntrese removes her do-rag, revealing her tattered extensions. She does need the hookup but I’m afraid she requires more than I can do.

  “I’m strictly cornrows, Shawntrese. No Korean or horsehair on my agenda.” Shawntrese laughs at me and Cedric makes himself comfortable at the dining room table, where I’ve set up shop. “I could give you a press and curl if you take the rest of your braids out.”

  “Now that sounds like a plan. All I got on me is a twenty. Is that cool?” she says, naming my price before it comes out of my mouth. Mama’s right about the power of thoughts. In a couple of hours I’ll make what it would usually take me all day to make at Simply and I don’t have to pay taxes. I could dig this lifestyle for real.

  “That’ll work, girl. I’ll holla at you when I’m finished with Ced.” As I close the door and prep my client’s hair for parting, my cell vibrates with a message from Rah for the fifth time this morning. He keeps apologizing for Trish’s behavior last night but I don’t have much more to say to him. I’ll help him when I can but right now I’ve got work to do, and it doesn’t include making him feel better about his horrible choice in girlfriends or baby mamas.

  “Damn Jayd, you can braid your ass off,” Shawntrese says as I finish up the last of Cedric’s braids. “Hurry up and move, fool, so she can get started on my hair.” She’s been here for the last five minutes and likes what she sees.

  “You got a mirror?” Cedric says, rubbing his hands over his tightly woven scalp, pleased with the results before he even sets eyes on his fresh do.

  “Here you go.” I take the hand mirror out of my hair bag and pass it to him. “Did you put conditioner in your hair?” I say, rubbing my fingers through Shawntrese’s wet tresses. She wears it in braids so much that her hairline has begun to recede and her hair is thinning. The perm in her hair isn’t helping. Mama makes a fierce conditioner that can help her hair regain its natural strength and luster but I didn’t bring any with me.

  “No. I didn’t have any left and my Mama hides her stuff from me. Ain’t that cold?” she says, pushing a satisfied Cedric out of his seat, where she promptly sits down. She and her mother have a strange relationship.

  “You need to work on your social skills, Shawntrese. Here you go, Jayd.” Cedric hands me my payment with a smile on his face. “You’ve got a customer for life in me, shawty.” I like making my clients happy. It’s almost better than getting paid to do something that comes so naturally to me—almost.

  “You’re welcome. You know where to find me if you need a touch-up.” I shake out the large towel before draping it across Shawntrese’s shoulders. I’m going to need a spare one if I’m going to do other people’s hair on a regular basis. Netta’s very serious about mixing folks’ hair together. She’s says it can lead to confusing situations and I have enough confusion in my life as it is.

  “Alright, clock’s ticking. I’ve got a skate date tonight and I want to look good.” Shawntrese is too funny. “And I want to know what all that noise was about last night. I would’ve come downstairs but I was too lit. I was listening from the balcony so I knew you had everything under control.” I’m glad to know her being nosy is done out of concern.

  “Yeah, you two girls go ahead and get your gossip on. I’ve got to get some sleep before I have to go to work in a few hours. Thanks again Jayd.” Closing the door behind him, Cedric heads downstairs and lets me and Shawntrese catch up. We haven’t talked since I witnessed the shooting a couple of months ago. And she stays with her boyfriend on most weekends so we rarely see each other when I’m here. Being here during the day is much more lively than I expected.

  “You couldn’t come help a sistah out last night,” I say, plugging the blow dryer into the wall while Shawntrese makes herself comfortable. I place the dryer on the table and pick up the television remote control and hand it to her.

  “Girl, I told you I was lit. Besides, my mama had company and I was trying to be as quiet as possible. I’m saving up my money now so I can get the hell out of here.” Shawntrese is a few years older than m
e but she acts my age. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

  “I feel you there. I’m hustling hard for my car as you can see,” I say, combing through her frail hair. The more I look at her scalp the more I’m sure I shouldn’t put any stress on it. Heat would definitely damage her hair more than it already is.

  “Yeah girl, you’re on it. Doing hair is the way to go. If I had the patience I’d do it myself.” She flips through the channels unaware of the issues I see in her head.

  “Yeah, I like it much better than waiting on customers. Shawntrese, I know you have your heart set on a press and curl but I think we should try something else.” I run my fingers through her hair, feeling her scalp and the pattern of her roots. At first I see cornrows all over her head, but that too might put more stress on her head than it can take. “How about I set tiny twists all over? It’ll be much better for your hair, help it grow, and it’ll look cute on your face.” I pass the mirror to her in the hopes that she will see my vision.

  “Are you sure?” she asks, looking at herself through my eyes. “I’ve never really rocked my hair out of braids or a perm.” I rub my fingers quickly through her hair, twisting small sections so she can get a feel for what I’m talking about.

  “Yeah, and that’s your problem. You’re killing your hair and I can’t participate in the massacre,” I say, throwing my hands up like I’m testifying in church. Shawntrese laughs at my dramatics and gets the point. “Trust me, I won’t send you out looking crazy. I’ve got your back, even if you don’t have mine,” I say as I try to make her feel guilty for not coming outside last night.

  “Jayd, that girl was on crutches and the other one was damn near a midget. I know you were cool and you can’t tell me any differently. So spill it. What was that about?” I don’t usually disclose my personal life to her but she’s sitting in my chair so I’m obligated to spill a little.