A Project Chick
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Tressa's life had changed tremendously in the past few months since she had left Lucky. A dollar didn't come easy, there was no splurging, impulsive buying, just penny pinching and budgeting. There were so many sacrifices she had to make to be able to make ends meet. However, one of things that she wouldn't give up was getting her hair done.
She kept a fresh pair of clean snow white Reeboks and her hair done. Those were the only ways she could reward herself. Most of her clothes were pieces that she had when her and Luck were together. Her other garments were pieces she picked up from the ten dollar store in the white areas. She went through the racks with a fine toothcomb to get the most tasteful things out of there. She could never figure out if she went to the white areas because they truly had better things, or was it because she didn't want to be sited shopping at the ten dollar store in the hood?
Her hair was another story; she spent top dollar on her hair. She believed as long as her hair was right, then everything else would fall in place. A person's hairstyle made a difference with any outfit, was her philosophy. A seven-dollar dress, with the right hairdo and shoes, could get a million dollar effect. With all this in mind her hair was always kept in tip-top condition. Getting her hair ruined during the watergun fight was the major reason she went into a rage. She didn't know when she would get money again to get her hair done.
This weekend was suppose to be a quiet weekend, with Wiggles and the boys. This was Wiggles' first weekend pass since she had finally gone to the drug program after 97
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Tressa had been constantly convincing her to go to for the past few months. With all the commotion and confusion going on, Tressa almost forgot about the cake she had gotten for Wiggles to celebrate her sobority. When she pulled out the cake and went to cut it, a roach ran across the top of the cake.
Tressa was mad and embarrassed. Wiggles just hugged Tressa because she knew she wanted to cry.
Instead, Tressa tried to make jokes. "Girl, those roaches be walking around here like they own the place and I am their guest."
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The Art of Hair
Courtesy of Pondee, Tressa was able to get her hair done over again. The next problem she had was getting her stylist to agree to fit her in. So, she called Gypsy, AKA Queen Bitch, AKA scandalous, no good, selfish, self-centered, gossiping, ongoing shit starting, paper-chasing stank hoe, who was also her beautian and could do the best hair in all of Richmond and surrounding counties.
Now Gypsy was no joke when it came to a comb, some curlers, gel and a brush. There wasn't any style Gypsy couldn't do, from ghetto to conservative styles. It didn't matter whether it was long, short, synthetic or horsehair. Gypsy laid it down like tar on a pavement.
Unfortunately, Gypsy's was every client's nightmare with her ongoing, forever changing, making up the rules as she go, it made all her clients hate her. But the final, finished result was what made her customers deal with the bull.
She came to work when and how late she felt like it. She wouldn't dare dream of letting her customer be over ten minutes late, if they were, she wouldn't do their hair. She never worked on Friday's, Saturdays or any other days if something spur of the moment came up. There were no exceptions for her to inconvenience herself when it came to doing hair, not even for her regular, good-tipping customers. She didn't care what special occasion her clients might have had. If they had a prom or were getting 99
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married on Saturday, they either got their hair done on Thursday, were instructed to sleep with a satin bonnet for the next two days, or they could go somewhere else.
Normally, Gypsy worked expeditiously getting her clients in and out. But when she was late for whatever reason, whether she was laid up somewhere screwing, had drama or just simply got caught up, which caused her to be behind and become overbooked, still she took no prisoners.
She would bluntly tell her clients, "sit and wait or go somewhere else because there is definitely someone else begging to take your seat".
Not one time did the thought ever cross Gypsy's mind that, without her customers, there would be no her.
For she lived by her motto, "Pussy is Power", and as long as she had a well and clean coochie between her legs, there laid the power. There would always be a sucker begging to be with her and to do what she needed to be done. So, gold digging was her first priority over doing hair on any given day. Hair was just a hobby that she used as a back-up plan to get extra money and a ploy to make her victims (men) think she didn't need them because she had a job bringing in plenty of funds. Though she tried to block out the fact that doing hair was a hustle acquired a long time ago while living in the projects, sitting on her momma's porch, charging ten dollars for a hairdo to get the bare necessities that her momma couldn't provide her with because she was too busy hanging out, drinking moon shine. Gypsy, while growing up, was often teased because of her black, deep, dark complexion. As an adult, her dark skin became her most attractive feature. Her full eyes and lips added to her beauty. Although she was black as midnight, nobody could ever deny she was beautiful. She could have been a model standing 5'9", with a thin curvy build. Her skin was smooth as a baby's behind, no blemishes, moles or acne. Her hair had always been extremely thick, but she learned to tame it when she was introduced to Revlon perms at the early age of eight. After becoming familiar with her newfound straight hair, she maintained her hair in a neat ponytail. She kept her hair up so well, that the other neighborhood girls always asked her to do their hair and she did. Pretty soon people started 100
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to come from projects all over, from day in until day out, to get their ten-dollar hairdo. At the age of thirteen, Gypsy was making more money in two days than her mother made in a week. Gypsy was able to buy whatever she wanted and kept up with the latest fashions.
The designer names she wore made her stand out even more, which meant she attracted the boys. Not just any boys, but the older guys that hustled and had money.
These guys were interested in her, so she started dating.
Juggling her dates and doing hair started to collide. When she had to decline dates because she needed to do hair to keep her money flowing, the guys she dated would pay her double, sometimes triple the money she made, so her hobby, her hustle, to do hair became second to her seeing her male friends. She hated the fact that standing on her feet tired her out. Plus, doing hair was so time consuming and took her away from the easy money, men. It is at this point in her life, she realized that she had the tool right between her legs to get what she wanted.
Girlfriends were never anything dear to her because of the countless times she cut their throats and everyone else's throat to get whatever man she felt she wanted at the time. Then she would have to deal with the jealousy and fighting with her so-called friends.
"If a girl can't control her man, then whose problem is it? Chicks should learn to keep their man on a leash.
Then they going to come and tell me, he ain't nothing but a dog. Shit, I am just walking the dog." This would be Gypsy's way of trying to make others see it her way.
Gypsy cared about no one but herself, and the day spa that she just took ownership over. Gypsy, however, ran the spa in a very selfish way. She didn't keep toilet paper in the bathroom. The big screen television that sat in the waiting area had a "Do Not Change Channel" sign. In her mind, the television it was for her, not her customers.
However, if they pleased, they could listen and watch the program that she was watching.
Gypsy mothered three children, but motherhood was another one of her schemes. Motherhood was a business investment too. Each one of her children was an insurance policy, assurance that she'd always be able to live the lifestyle she wanted for herself via child support.
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Her oldest child was by a guy who was older than she, but was a well-respected old head in the town. She slept with him a couple times for money, and seeing the money he had and how he loved his other twelve children, she saw opportunity and purposely got pregnant. It was no big deal to the old head, because he had so many other children, just another one to add to the brood. The old head did everything for the child and was a security blanket for Gypsy. She knew for sure, if all else failed, the old head would look out for her on the strength they shared, a son.
Then there was the middle child that was by a local drug dealer, Pee. She deliberately got pregnant by him because she saw he was a loyal type of guy. He was an only child and hadn't yet fathered any kids. He and his mother, Ethel, were close and Gypsy knew the mother would surely cater to her and her child. The mother, Ms. Ethel, always wanted a daughter and was everything that Gypsy wanted her mother to be. Gypsy was certain that the responsibility for this child would always fall on Ms. Ethel and never on her, she was right. Ms. Ethel took total control over the baby once he was born. Pee was brutally killed while Gypsy was still pregnant, which made it almost natural for Ms.
Ethel to keep this baby all the time. Gypsy had Ms. Ethel eating out of the palms of her hands because the baby was the only connection Ms. Ethel had to her dead son.
Although the baby spent only 10% of its life with Gypsy, Gypsy maintained legal custody of the baby solely to receive the social security check each month for the baby from Pee's death. The four hundred dollars a month, check was money that she knew was coming in every month regardless of how many heads she did or dicks she sucked. Ms. Ethel didn't care anything about any social security because she too had a healthy insurance policy on Pee. Ms. Ethel vowed to use that money to take care of her grandson. As far as Ms. Ethel was concerned, she was fully aware of Gypsy's kind and her low-life mentality, but if the $400 a month kept Gypsy away, then by all means, she could have it.
Then there was the youngest child, another planned pregnancy, but this was the most lucrative one that she'd cashed in on, as of yet, Lil Merk.
Big Merk was a professional football player that she had met at a celebrity's birthday party. Now, make no 102
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mistake about it, at the end of the day, Gypsy is and will always be a no-good guttersnipe. But once she jumps into costume, as she does, no one would ever know. Rolling up in her late model two-year old Mercedes Benz, her "look no further", spunky feisty, "I am the shit attitude", which turns a man on right away. Then to top it off, she has the face and everything else falls right in place. Her well- manicured nails, pedicured feet, picture perfect makeup on her beauty queen face makes any man, white, black, or Chinese feel that it's imperative to know who this woman is. Once they are formally introduced, oh, the show begins. Gypsy keeps the men well entertained from that moment on to the day she gets tired of them or they serve no more purpose in her life.
For some reason, as grimey as she was, the men from coast to coast still lined up to be with Gypsy. This was the same way with Big Merk, but once Big Merk saw through her lies and deceit, he gave her a Navigator truck for the kids and moved her out of her little two-bedroom apartment into a nice one hundred and fifty thousand dollar house, set up healthy child support payments and fled. Gypsy was amicable, but when the word got around that there was a new beauty in Big Merk's life, all hell broke loose.
In the hair salon:
Gypsy agreed to do Tressa's hair Monday, but at 6
a.m. in the morning. The following morning, Tressa was up bright and early off to the salon. Gypsy had a way of making Tressa feel extremely uncomfortable. Tressa couldn't understand why Gypsy was so fickle towards her, for she had never done anything to Gypsy to make her have such a negative disposition towards her. Gypsy most of the time acted as if Tressa and her were cool, but at the same time, she would often have to throw some shade in it. So, Tressa never trusted Gypsy but she played along as if they were super cool.
Today Gypsy's niceness, laughing, joking and trying oh so hard to make conversation out of small talk was so sickening. Gypsy wanted to know, but she didn't want to come straight out and ask, how exactly was Tressa's broke 103
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ass able to get her hair done over again, when she was just in yesterday?
Gypsy was thinking to herself, I know this broke down chick ain't got nobody to replace Lucky's ass that quick.
I know she scrambling. Where the hell she get money from?
Hum, let me check out her jewelry. She ain't even got all her jewelry no more. She sure ain't have it on yesterday when she was in here, I heard the bitch pawned it all. Gypsy tried to make heads of the situation.
"Tressa, where all your jewelry at today?" Gypsy casually asked Tressa.
"Girl, it's too early in the morning. Shoot girl, I barely got myself here, talkin' 'bout putting on all that daggone jewelry."
Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. All I know is this bitch better have my damn money when I get finished doing her head, Gypsy thought. I don't want no short money and she better not ask me for no credit neither. I don't care if she has been coming to me since back in the day and she referred a bunch of people to me either. I don't owe her nothing. I could give a damn about her doing bad or about her stupid ass leaving her man and now she scrambling.
Better believe I don't feel sorry for her. That's what she get, cause I would have never left that paid ass nigga. I don't care what he did, he could've been fucking my damn momma on my bed. I would have just walked in and just asked him for some money. As long as he gave it to me, I wouldn't have cared. She just better have mine when I'm done.
When Tressa's hair was finished drying and she was back in Gypsy's chair to get styled, Gypsy had to continue to pry, but on the down low.
"Girl, I can't remember who it was, but one of my customers was asking about you just yesterday."
"Oh, for real?" Tressa asked, but growing real tired of the small talk.
"Girl, I told her you were just in here."
"Oh, OK."
"Don't you know she had the nerve to ask me, how you going to take care of your kids now since you and your baby father broke up."
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Tressa thought to herself, Naw, baby I know that's really what you want to ask me, but don't have the gall to dare ask me. I am hip to broads like you. But you will never know in your wildest dream how I make it happen for mines and me. Believe that.
"Oh, what she had some money to contribute or something?" Tressa said sarcastically.
"Yes, girl I had to check her because people always gotta know what the hell is goin' on. Why can't they mind their business?" Gypsy acted like she put the other girl in check, but she know good and well she didn't, because there was no other girl.
Tressa responded with a little giggle. As Gypsy held the hand-held mirror for Tressa so that she could look up close at the finished, beautiful creation.
"That'll be thirty-five dollars." Gypsy informed Tressa. Tressa, without hesitation, went into her pocketbook, pulled out the fifty-dollar bill and gave it to Gypsy.
"How much change you need?"
"Naw boo, I don't need none."
Although it was only fifteen dollars, she could have definitely put it to use. She knew good and well Gypsy didn't deserve the tip, and she tried to justify and reason with herself. Sometimes you just gotta pay the cost and take the lost, simply to put a bitch in her place, and to keep their head wondering. See, they think I'm doing bad. They want me to crumble. As long as I got breath in my body, they will never see me sweat. When the dust settles, I'll always be the last chick standing. Mark my words!
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Double Trouble!!!
Stepping out the door of the salon with a fresh do always boosted Tressa's self-esteem. This was the very reason she always wore something cute to the salon. She knew that her hair pinned up in a volcano looking French roll on the top of her head, with not a piece of hair out of place, would only accent her super cute outfit. Today it was some mint green Calvin Klein jean shorts, that stopped at her thighs, and a white and green print Calvin Klein halter-top that matched. What made the simple but cute outfit stand out, were the Calvin Klein white sandals with the same mint green print as the shirt, with the pocketbook to match. Tressa knew she looked good, but now she had nowhere to go. Someone had to see her. Her children were at school, Wiggles had dropped them off on her way back to the program Monday morning. So, she had nowhere to be or obligations until 5 p.m., when she had to pick up the kids. As good as she looked, somebody had to, needed to and was going to see her this day.
Tressa looked at the crushed potato chips the boys had scattered all over the back seat and the floor of the car.
It was then that the bright plan popped into her head. She drove to "Big Willie's Car Repair, Custom, Detail Shop", which was a place Lucky always barred her from because this was indeed the place all the hustlers, ballers, pimps and players were known to take their cars, trucks and vans 107
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to get washed and hooked up. The fact that Big Willie's had girls dressed in bathing suits washing cars, naturally drew in regular men too. Since this was the designated place where all the "money-getting men" were, that was indeed the place for Tressa to swing by. Although she had no desire for a hustler in her life, after the whole ordeal with Lucky, but she did want companionship, and if he had some money, that would come in handy. She had no intentions of developing a relationship with any guy, not yet anyway, but she wanted to see if she still had it. She wanted some male attention like she used to get when she was with Lucky and she was certain Big Willie's was just the place to go and get it. So, it was off to Big Willie's she went.