by Cairo
“You set the date,” I tell him as I step out of his embrace, then step into the shower. He gets in behind me.
“Next Saturday,” he says.
I laugh. “You have got to be kidding me. That’s too soon, silly. I need to find a dress.”
He twists his lips. “All them damn clothes you got, and you mean to tell me you don’t have something you can rock? Give me a break.”
I look him in the eyes. Step up into his space. “Jasper, when I marry you it’s going to be my one and only marriage. So when I come down that aisle or staircase or sandy beach, I’m gonna be the baddest bitch you’ve ever seen for a bride.”
He smiles, reaching for my nipples. He kneads them between his fingers. “Oh, yeah. Well, check this out. You already the baddest bitch, baby. And that’s why a nigga’s tryna snatch you up on some official shit.”
I grab his hard dick, stroke it. “Mmmph,” I say licking my lips. “I’ve missed the hell out of that dick.”
“Oh, word? Is that all you missed.”
I reach up on my tippy-toes and kiss him on the lips, slipping my tongue into his mouth. We kiss for a few moments, before I pull away. “And those sexy lips.”
He grins, reaching for the soap and washcloth and washing himself off. “I can tell.”
As soon as we finish our shower—after another round of in-tense fucking, we dress, then head out the door, leaving behind the scent of sweet, sweaty sexing.
I drop Jasper off where I picked him up from earlier. He tells me he’ll call me later on, then says, “Saturday, October ninth. Two P.M.”
“October ninth? What’s happening then?”
“I’m marryin’ ya fine-ass. That’s seven months away. It’s Columbus Day weekend and gives you more than enough time to do whatever the fuck you need to do.” I smile, but inside I’m wondering when he came up with that date and how the hell I’m going to find a place in such short notice. I can tell his mind is made up. “I don’t wanna hear no bullshit, yo. That’s what it is, ya dig?”
“So is this you putting your foot down?”
“Damn straight.”
“Well, alright then, big daddy. Whatever you want.”
He leans over and kisses me, then gets out of the car. “It better be. Where you going from here?”
“The shop,” I tell him.
“Yeah, aiight. Make sure you take ya ass straight there, too.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
“Yeah, aiight. You heard what Daddy said. Take ya ass straight to work, yo. You hear me?”
“Bye, Jasper. Call me later.”
“No doubt, baby.” I watch him as he walks across the street like he’s been riding up and down on buses all day, looking for work. As I’m pulling off, I smile, replaying our encounter back at the motel in my head. My pussy is well-fucked, my throat well-coated, and my heart overflowing with love. Damn, life can’t get any sweeter than this, I think, making my way to the salon.
NINETEEN
When I walk through the salon’s door, there’s a lot of lively chatter going on. Shuwanda’s new client Robyn is sitting in the waiting area with her man—the nigga whose dick I’d wet a while back. She’s leaning up on him, flipping through a magazine, while he’s on his iPhone. She speaks when she sees me over at the counter with Felecia. Her man eyes her, then quickly shoots a look over at me before going back to doing whatever it was he was preoccupied with. I feel a level of discomfort, seeing him sitting up in here for the second time.
“We set the date,” I say to Felecia, sharing the news about my upcoming nuptials.
“Girl,” she squeals, “it’s about damn time. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I say.
She gets on the intercom and announces, “Alright ya’ll…listen up. It’s official. We have a wedding to plan. Pasha and Jasper are finally jumping the broom. Columbus Day weekend it’s gonna be on and poppin’.” Everyone claps and cheers, and gives their congratulations. I blush, visibly embarrassed by the unwanted attention.
I tell all the well-wishers thanks, then shift my attention back to Felecia. “Do I have any cancellations?”
“Nope. So far, looks like everyone’s gonna show. Umm, did Alicia call you?” she asks as she hands me the mail.
“No, she hasn’t. Why?”
“Chile, don’t quote me or anything. But I think she’s gonna ask you if she can have her job back.”
Now, between you and me, I really like Alicia. And maybe if she was paying rent like everyone else up in here I might be a bit more open to reconsider my decision to let her go. But since she’s working off commission, and had the nerve to call out because she got messy, then comes up in here the next day and gets tossed around in my office, there’s no room for a change of heart. Not only did she cost me paper, the bitch came up in here bringing drama to my place of business. Whether intentional or not, I don’t give a goddamn. There’s nothing to discuss. It’s nothing personal. She has three small kids to feed, but that’s not my problem. This is a business. And I’m about the business of running a classy, upscale salon. And fighting up in my shop isn’t it. It’s bad enough a motherfucker came up in here and tried to bring it to me. But, this…unh, not acceptable!
“Well, I don’t know why she’d do that. She can’t be that crazy to part her lips to even come at me with that nonsense. After that shit that went down up in here there’s no way she’ll ever step foot through these doors again.” I feel like a two-faced, hypocrite. And I should. Still, it’s my shop; my rules. So, it is what it is.
“I hear that. Oh, before I forget. Your three o’clock is gonna be fifteen minutes late. Gina called to cancel her hair appointment for tomorrow. She said she’ll call back later to reschedule. And Bianca wants to know if you can squeeze her in for next Tuesday.”
“I’ll call her,” I say, gathering my things to head to my office. As Robyn gets up to walk over to Shuwanda’s workstation, out of the corner of my eye, I glance over at her man, wondering if he’s even recognized who I am. I’m hoping he hasn’t. But judging by the way he’s checking me on the sly, I can tell he’s trying to figure it out.
“By the way,” Felecia says, “a package came for you. I put it on your desk.”
“Okay, thanks.” As I’m about to walk off, I realize that I left my phone in my car. I sit my things back up on the counter, then head for the door. “I gotta go back outside. I left my phone in the car.”
As I’m walking out the door, I see this thug-type nigga standing across the street, looking over in the direction of the salon not too far from where my car is, like he was standing there waiting for someone, or something. I can’t really make out who he is since he has a brown hoodie pulled up over his head—which I think is odd since it’s almost seventy degrees today. Anyway, the nigga looks like he’s up to no good. However, I don’t put too much attention into it.
As soon as I step to the curb waiting for cars to go by, I glance over my shoulder and see Robyn’s man coming outside as well. He speaks. “How long you been working here?”
“Since it opened,” I answer, eyeing him. I glance back across the street. The hooded man is standing in the same spot, staring.
“It’s a nice spot.”
“Yeah, it is,” I say, moving a strand of hair from my face as I take him in. I can’t deny he’s a handsome nigga. He has a chiseled face with deep, piercing brown eyes, full lips, and a dimpled chin. His hair is cut close and his neatly trimmed goatee makes him look sexier than he already is. He’s wearing a brown, short-sleeved POLO button-up, beige khakis and a pair of brown designer loafers. For some reason, he reminds me of a computer geek.
He looks back toward the shop, then at me. Instinctively, we both step out of the view of the shops window in case someone was looking. “Congratulations to you,” he says, giving me the onceover.
“Thanks.”
He licks his lips, pulling in his bottom lip. “I was hoping you were gonna be here today.”
“
Why?” I ask, pretending to be clueless. “James, right?”
He nods. “Yeah. When I initially saw you the other week, you looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t put my finger on where I knew you from. I went home and kept thinking about it. Then it hit me. Damn, I didn’t think I was ever gonna run into you again.”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “Umm, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
He smiles. “I’d never forget a face or set of lips like yours.” I nervously shift my eyes, looking around to make sure no one else is in earshot. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna put you out like that,” he says, sensing my uneasiness. “Your secret is safe with me. I just wanted to let you know, I remember who you are. Shit. I actually haven’t stopped thinking about that night in the park.”
I want to ask him which park he’s referring to, but decide against it. The fact is it doesn’t matter where I had sucked his dick. The point is I did it. He goes onto tell me how that was the best mind-blowing head he’s ever experienced in his life. It’s meant to be a compliment, but it has me feeling extremely uncomfortable. I swallow my nerves down, not believing how shit is unfolding right before my eyes. Of all the times I’ve gone out cock prowling, he’s the first man who I have actually run into in public—surprisingly, my goddamn salon.
I decide to be honest with him. “I remembered you when you were here two weeks ago. I’d definitely like to keep this quiet.”
He chuckles. “I’m engaged, remember? Who you think I’m gonna tell?”
I let out a sigh. “Point taken.”
The cell in his hand chimes, alerting he has a text. He looks down at it. “Listen, that’s her texting me.”
I put a hand up, waving him on. “I gotta get my phone out of my car anyway.”
He shoots his future wife a quick text back, then says, “It was nice talking to you. Maybe we can hook up one more time before we both tie the knot.”
I smile. “Perhaps we shouldn’t. With your wife-to-be coming into the salon now as a client, it’s too close for comfort. The last thing I need in my shop is drama.”
“I’m not looking for any drama either,” he says, eyeing me. He smiles, glancing over his shoulder at the salon. “So this is your shop?” I nod. “Wow, impressive.”
“Thanks. So you can understand how another encounter wouldn’t be good for business.”
He grins. “Then again, it may increase your business. Shit, she doesn’t mind spending my money to come here.”
I return the smile. “And I do appreciate the patronage, but that’s as far as I can go with it. Besides, as you’ve heard, I’m about to be married.”
“I understand. And so am I. But if you ever change your mind,”—he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet—“give me a call, or shoot me an email.” He hands me a business card. I glance at it. He’s an IT tech.
I smile. “Thanks.” He smiles back, then glances down at his cell as it chimes again. It’s another text from his fiancé. He walks off, texting back. And I prepare to cross the street. Dude with the hoodie is still standing by my car waiting, watching—or looking, for something. While I’m crossing the street, I see him lean down, picking up something. As I make my way toward my car, this motherfucker lifts up this big-ass cinderblock, draws his arms back, and hurls the shit at the rear window of my car. He takes off running down the street like a bat out of hell at the sound of glass shattering and my alarm blaring, yelling out, “Bitch!”
“OhmyGod!” I scream, running to my car. “Someone stop him! The motherfucker threw a brick through my window!” I quickly unlock my door, snatch my cell out of the passenger seat, then dial 9-1-1. In the meantime, I’m standing in the middle of the sidewalk, watching as this nigga disappears down the street.
“Fuck!” I yell. This is the last thing I need today.
TWENTY
Whoever came up with the saying: When it rains, it fucking (added for effect) pours never lied. ’Cause right now it feels like I’m being soaked by a monsoon. When I get to the shop this morning I am greeted with a slew of fliers taped all over the front door and window of the salon. Fliers, damnit!!! About me! Each one had a different slogan. Shit like: FOR THE BEST HEAD IN TOWN, PASHA ALLEN’S GOT THE DICK SUCKING GAME ON LOCK…FOR THAT 24 HOUR DICK WASH, COME THRU NAPPY NO MORE FOR THAT DEEP THROAT TREATMENT…PASHA ALLEN’S A DICK SUCKING SLUT…VISIT THE QUEEN OF COCK-SWABBING AT WWW.NASTYFREAKS4U.COM…PASHA ALLEN A.K.A DEEP THROAT DIVA WILL LICK YA DICK AND SWALLOW YA NUT ’CAUSE SHE’S A CUM-SLUT…
There were literally a hundred or more fliers covering the door and window. When I say my nerves were rattled, they were wrecked. Two weeks ago it was my car, now this shit! Thankfully, I still get here before anyone else. Then the nut has the audacity to call me. I’m sitting here at my desk, trying to push back a throbbing headache as I replay the conversation. “How’d you like the fliers?”
“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask, feeling exasperated. “Of all the people in the world you just have to fuck with me. Why?”
“I told you before. I want my dick sucked.”
“Nigga,” I snap, “you are outta ya motherfucking mind. I’m not sucking shit.”
“Then I’m gonna keep fucking with you until you do.”
I hang up on him. Two minutes later, the nut calls back.
“Bitch, hanging up doesn’t stop me from calling. I’m gonna call ya smutty ass every day ’til you put those pretty-ass lips on this dick, again. By the way, how many nuts you swallow a day?”
I take deep breaths, counting to ten in my head to calm my nerves down. Even though my nerves are rattled, the last thing I should do is let this nigga know he is getting to me. “You’re fucking crazy,” I respond.
“You sucking this dick?”
“I told you…hell. Fucking. No!”
“I guess having the back window knocked out of that fancy whip of yours still isn’t enough, is it ho?”
“Fuck you,” I snap. Maybe talking slick isn’t the smartest idea. But he is plucking my last nerve with all of this psycho shit.
He laughs. “Yeah, like how I’m gonna fuck that throat of yours. I’ma call every day. And I’ma ask you the same shit. And every time you say no, I’ma give your dumb ass something to remember me by.”
“Like I said, bitch-ass, fuck…you.”
“By the time I finish with you, slut, you gonna wish I hada fucked ya nasty, trick-ass. Get ready for ya next surprise,” he warns.
“Nigga, do what the fuck you gotta do. I’m not sucking your raggedy-ass dick.” This time, the nigga hangs up on me. I’m telling you this shit with this motherfucking nut is really getting out of hand. And the truth of the matter is I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do about it. I definitely can’t go to the police with this. If I suck his dick, then this motherfucker will have me under his thumb. But if I don’t, then the nigga’s gonna keep harassing me. Either way, I’m fucked. I wish I knew someone I could call to handle this…him, for me. Some hood niggas who’d track his ass down, then stomp him the fuck out.
Anyway, here we are less than three hours later, and I have the goddamn police here at the salon, again, because someone tossed two big-ass metal pipes through the salon’s window. Glass and shit is everywhere. I’m glad no one got hurt. The last thing I need is someone trying to sue me on top of everything else that’s going on. Of course, no one was able to give a good description of the motherfucker who did this because he, like the nigga who smashed out my car window, had a hat pulled down over his eyes and a hoodie blocking his face. The only difference is he was short and dark-skinned.
Then, to add to my already pounding headache, I have these nosey ass police asking me a bunch of questions: Have you made any enemies recently? Have you had any disagreements with anyone? Could this have been a scorned lover? Do you know why someone would target you? My answer: No!
Now everyone here is all up in my business, asking me a ton of questions. I’m sure out of concern. But,
still…it’s embarrassing to say the least. First, the shit with the nigga coming to my shop, next my car window being smashed out, then the fliers. Now this shit. I’m convinced this nigga is not going to give up until he breaks me down.
To makes matters worse, my paranoia has me thinking I hear bitches snickering as I walk by. I know how messy hating ass hoes can be, especially Shuwanda, so it wouldn’t surprise me if their laughter is at my expense. But come to find out Felecia tells me that while I was outside Shuwanda was in here running her mouth about Alicia giving everyone in earshot a play-by-play recap of how Alicia carried on at that party she took her to. Shuwanda was only being Shuwanda—a messy, backstabbing, two-faced bitch.
Then, coupled with everything else happening around here, Stax walks through the door with Jasper as I’m sweeping up glass. Shit, shit, shit, I think, trying to keep my face from cracking.
“Yo, what the fuck happen here?” Jasper asks, frowning as he points at the window. His jaw tightens as he looks around.
I stop sweeping. “Some crazy ass threw a pipe through the window,” I tell him, cutting my eye over at Felecia. She lowers her head, busies herself looking through the appointment book. She keeps her mouth shut, but I know her. She wants to say something about my car. I have Jasper thinking it’s in the shop for repairs because someone sideswiped me.
“Did they catch this nigga?” he asks, staring at me.
I tell him no. Look over at Stax who’s standing by the counter, eyeing me on the sly while talking to Felecia. “Hey, Stax,” I say to him.
He nods at me. “What’s good, Pash? You aiight?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Oh, aiight, that’s wassup. I was telling ya peoples if you need me to set up a goon squad up over here, all you gotta do is say the word.”
That’s the last thing I need here. I force a laugh. “Oh, no. We’re fine. It was only some idiot acting a—”
“So what this nigga look like?” Jasper asks, cutting me off. A few of the stylists see Stax and Jasper and make their way to the front, smiling and grinning and shaking and popping their asses for attention. I give him what little information I know, tell him the people were coming out to replace the window, then change the subject.