“Fuck you too, Naisha!” I yelled, walking out of the salon.
That stupid bitch had yelled at me for the last time, talking to me like I wasn’t shit when I was the best stylist she said. She was out of her rabid-ass mind if she thought I was going to put up with that shit any longer. The goofy bitch needed to sit her own ass in my hair and let me do something to that raggedy ass wig she had on.
“Ugh! What the fuck are you looking at?” I continued to yell at some older couple walking by. That was rude as hell, but they were all in my face.
Making it to the parking lot before I burst into tears, I rang the Phat Girls group chat and continued sobbing as Natima, Ashara, and Nika answered. They all came in smiling but immediately filled the phone with concern. I couldn’t even answer them; I just needed a moment to cry.
“Clari, what’s up?” Nika asked as they all waited for me to gather myself.
“That stupid, ugly, four-baby daddy-having ass, weak-ass wannabe stylist just fired me from the shop. For what? Some fake ass complaint from one of her bottom-feeding ass friends. The bitch put some kind of relaxer cream in her hair and didn’t tell me. So, now there are locs of her hair on the floor. Naisha’s overdeveloped ass jumped at the opportunity to get rid of me. Probably upset that I was a better stylist than she could ever hope to be. Ol’ run down, black foot, street runner!”
While I was completely crashing out, these girls had the audacity to be bent over in laughter. Sharanna had joined in at the last bit of that and I could tell she was flabbergasted. That made me suck up the tears and laugh too. Naisha had me heated.
“Are you busy later? I have somebody I want you to read just like that,” Sharanna stated. “The assistant principal here is a dumb bitch and I’d get fired for snapping like that.”
“Girl! I got so much anger pent up, point me to her and I got you.” I laughed, wiping the tears from my face. “But for real, y’all… I’m out of a job and it’s fuckin’ hard to get in a chair in this city. And with all this bullshit, I just know she’s gonna spray my name.”
“I can ask Havana if she has some contacts. She interacts with all these rich people,” Nika offered.
“Same, babe. I’m sure Mark and I have some friends we can comb through that might need their hair done,” Ashara chimed in.
“And you know what, them rich white people be hella amazed when a black girl slays their hair. At this point though, I’ll take any client to just have the income. I hate this stupid bitch.”
“Don’t worry, Clari. We’re gonna help you get back to it quickly. Take a moment and if you want to, we can go get drunk or high. I’ll come your way,” Ashara said.
“Girl, now yo ass is not gonna get high,” I laughed, cleaning up my face well. My girls’ support was enough to make me snap out of it. There was enough in my savings to keep it together for a while, but I didn’t want to dig too deep into that.
“Okay, but I will get drunk. Mark’s ass will be right here with Matty, and I’ll be there.”
“Me too! I could use a drink,” Sharanna stated. “Harlow has been hella busy with work, and we’ve got a four-day weekend.”
“Y’all don’t have to. I think I’m just gonna go at it alone. I appreciate y’all, but I need to process what’s going on. We can link later though. Maybe brunch this weekend?
They all agreed before we exited the call. I sat in my car for a bit longer before I got it together and pulled out of the space. I turned my music up loud as hell, rocking the parking garage as I slid through it. I would shit on Naisha when I got on my feet.
* * * *
Four months.
That’s how fucking long I had been without a job and my savings were getting to a minimum. With rent, my car payments, and other bills, along with trying to have a social life so I didn’t get fucking depressed, I couldn’t survive like this much longer.
Something had to give. None of the clients I did for the girls was really enough for me. Most already had stylists they went to, and they only needed me for single gigs. I was struggling to get my social media to pop since Naisha’s bitch ass was making sure nobody wanted to work with me. If I crossed paths with her, I knew I would beat the shit out of her and not think twice about it.
Deciding to get dressed and give it one more spin at the old method of business promotion, I headed out of the house and down to the Matrix Mall. It was a popular place where the wealthy liked to shop. If I could just find one or two clients to lock me in with their friends, I could build from there. My skills were up there, and I wasn’t just bragging on myself, although I could. I’d learned from the streets and got a formal education in cosmetology. I studied hair in great depth and my hands were a blessing.
Fuck Naisha.
Two hours into my mall-wandering, I walked into the barbershop at the end and passed out my business card. The guys had tons of questions about whose hair I could and couldn’t do. There were no limitations for me. I got some promises to call, but I didn’t hold my breath. I didn’t plan to stick around for too much longer. The food court had some upper-scale restaurants. Instead of a Chinese restaurant, they had a Japanese hibachi spot. Instead of Chipotle or Chick-fil-A, they had an authentic Mexican restaurant and barbecue place. I was going for the Gourmet Potatoes spot for a loaded seafood potato.
“Yoo!” I heard behind me as I headed to the food court. “Yoo, ma.”
“Ma?” I asked, snapping my head around to come face to face with the….fine ass man closing the distance.
“I don’t mean no disrespect. Just a real South Florida nigga.”
“Well, what can I do for a real South Florida nigga?”
“My boy works in the shop and told me you were handing out your business card. I felt it was only right that I introduced myself in person while I had the chance so that when I called you, it wasn’t weird or no shit like that. I’m Narris Wicks.” He extended his hand.
“Clarissa Mayweather,” I responded, placing mine into his. He firmly shook my hand before placing a kiss on the back of it.
“My baby sister’s ballet class is in need of a stylist. I’m not sure if you’re cool with doing a bunch of buns and glamming up high schoolers, but I need someone’s assistance and it’s been hard finding someone to do twenty-three heads every event.”
“Twenty-three?! That’s a lot. What’s the gig paying?”
“Name your price.”
“Nah, what are you looking to spend? I might be too expensive.”
“Ma, name the price.”
She looked at me for a while, trying to figure out if she should say what she was thinking. I wasn’t hurting, nor were the people that sponsored the team. I had plenty of candidates lined up for the gig, but her face on the business card and seeing her in person made me want her at the top of the list.
Her style was fresh, and my baby sister, Harli, had been crying about how the stylists they had were outdated. I was sure the beauty I was lucky enough to come across could spice things up.
“Twenty-three heads per event… How many events are we talking?”
“Fifteen this season. The first one will be next weekend.”
“Let me calculate for a moment…” she said doing some math in her head. I watched her pretty face work out the numbers. “Okay, so since you’re doing a group, I’ll do the heads at half the price and charge you for thirteen events if I’m on retainer.”
I raised an eyebrow and let her continue. There was a number in my head, but I wanted to see if she thought she was worth more or if I did.
“$15,000.”
“Half the price, twenty-three heads, and thirteen events?”
“Yes.”
I’d studied math in college, so I undid her calculations and concluded she would have normally charged me $34,000. I did a quick Instagram search from her card and saw that she was pretty fire at what she did. There may have been some stalking to see her thick, pretty ass in her element. One swimsuit picture flooded my mind as I spewed the number.
“I’ll have my accountant send over a check for fifty thousand dollars and a contract tomorrow. I’d also like it more if you put your number in my phone instead of me getting it from the card. We keep it to the card, then things stay professional. But I’d also like to chill with you and get to know you a little better.”
“Does that negate the outcome of my pay?” she asked, referring to me taking her number.
“Not at all, ma.”
“Okay,” she took my phone and put her number in, “but I am not a cheap date.”
“I didn’t imagine that you were. Don’t worry though… I can afford it.”
“If this opportunity isn’t legit, I’m gonna be very fucking pissed.”
“Google me, ma. I promise you it’s no pressure.”
She narrowed her eyes at me before turning back to the line as if the conversation hadn’t happened. I knew she would Google me as soon as I was out of sight. Money was no issue for the Wicks family. My father was a multimillionaire technology guru, my mother made millions by finding and selling antique and rare fashion, and my grandfather may or may not have been a cartel leader. Money was something that came down generation after generation. My trust fund at eighteen had half a million dollars in it. At twenty-one, I unlocked a full million. I got seven million every five years after twenty-one.
Now, at thirty-one, I was sitting at fifteen million in a trust fund, and my small investments over the years had half of that sitting around for play money. I’d invested in the dance team when my sister signed up, and their competitions were something hundreds and hundreds of people looked to.
Life was good.
** ** **
When she walked into the room, all eyes were on her, and it was well deserved. The woman was gorgeous, her titties seemed to be as big as her head, and the ass-to-thigh ratio was properly done.
“Damn, God, you did that one.”
“Hey, Narris,” she said with a huge smile as she approached me.
“Clarissa. What’s good, ma?” I took the hand she held out to shake and pulled her into a hug. She smelled delectable. It didn’t go unnoticed that she got an extended whiff of me before we unraveled our arms.
“I’m nervous and excited. Hope I’m worthy of this contract.”
“I don’t believe for one second that you believe you’re not worthy of it, so you can save the humbleness. Pop yo shit,” I laughed. “I already heard about you.”
“Heard what?” she raised an eyebrow.
“You’re great at what you do. I know you had a little altercation with another stylist and that’s why you’re a free agent. Harli did her research on you, and she and the girls are ready to meet you.”
“If my previous employer is gonna be an issue, tell me now. I’ve been trying to find consistent work for four months. I can’t stop her from badmouthing me.”
“Honestly, I don’t even care for all the gossip. I ask questions to get to know the people I bring on. Most of what I heard from you was ‘she said, she said,’ and none of it was a red flag to me. I figured she was a hater, but your work speaks for itself. I’m sure that being connected with my family will bring you what you need.”
“A permanent gig and a man,” she mumbled.
I smirked. If I had my way with her, that’s exactly what would happen.
“Let me get you inside to meet the girls before I start talking crazy.”
“Well, lucky for you, I talk crazy too.”
She followed me inside, cracking a couple of jokes on the way. Her laugh was infectious, and her aura was bright. When the girls saw her, they immediately ran up to her, holding up their phones for pictures and showing her, they followed her on Instagram. Clarissa let them have their moment before she got everyone in order and down to business.
I stood nearby, watching her do her thing for about six heads before I left them to it. She had her time frame, and she didn’t really need me hovering. There was some shit I needed to get anyway.
Before I walked out of the building, I got a text from her asking if there was food in the building or if she needed to do DoorDash it. There was plenty of food in the building, but if she wanted something in particular, I’d get it.
Instead of texting, I called her. There was no getting tired of hearing her voice.
“What you got a taste for?” I asked.
“Sushi or spicy ramen.”
“Raw or cooked?”
“Raw, of course. What uncultured person is eating cooked sushi?”
“I mean, it ain’t that bad, but I understand it. I love sushi. If you want it now, I’ll go get it. If you wanna wait til you’re done so I can take you on a proper date, that’s cool.”
“A date?”
“Is that too much?”
“Is this part of the job? If I say no, are you gonna retaliate.”
“Fortunately, my self-esteem is high. So, if you say no, I’ll one thousand percent respect it. But if I see something I want, I’m gonna shoot my shot no matter the outcome.”
“Okay, that’s real. We’ll see how I feel afterward. You never even asked if I had a man.”
“There was no marriage license on your background check. So, fair game even if you have one, no?”
“Wow,” she laughed. “So, you would believe I’m fair game if you were my boyfriend?”
“That applies to other niggas. Not me. What’s mine is mine.”
“Well, as a single woman—”
“Not for much longer.”
“I–oop. You are quick with it. What if—”
“Not really tryna hear it. Can I take you on a date, Clarissa?”
“Business and pleasure?”
“I can bring you a lot of both.”
I knew they had her stuck because she was quiet for a moment. But it was really cool because I actually did have a lot of business lined up for her. I just couldn’t let anything interfere with the contract I needed her for, but she would have extra business to take care of whatever she needed in the time that we didn’t need her services. Getting me would be a plus and I was sure of that. But the ball was in her court, and I was ready to play ball.
“If be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued… So, okay. Hopefully, if it doesn’t work out, there’s no retaliation.”
“I’m not that kinda nigga, Clarissa.”
“I hear you, Narris.”
“I’ll send a couple of platters from the kitchen. Call me when you’re done, ma.”
“Yeah yeah, pa.”
I laughed loudly at that one. I was about to show Clarissa what it was like fucking with me. If it didn’t work out, then so be it. But if it did, then it would be gravy for her and me moving forward. I was ready to see what was to come from being in her presence though.
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