Aesthetic

Aesthetic ~ 4

Then the next one.

It takes about thirty minutes because Roxxanne's hair was so rich and thick, but the end result was a head full of small crowns. She taps her shoulder when she's done.

"You're good to go." She says blankly, shifting back on the couch. Her hands were filmy with the hair oil.

Roxxanne smiles at her. "Thanks girl. You wanna go get some ice cream? Get your mind off things?"

She sighs silently at first then agrees, the looking at walls not doing a thing for her. "Yeah, that sounds groovy."

"Okay let me go get my scarf." Roxxanne stands from the floor, giving her a soft smile. The landline rings diverting both of their attention to the bulky white thing on the wall. Roxxanne rolls her eyes to the ceiling.

"That's got to be the landlord. Can you get that please? I don't know how many times he can tell us our rent is approaching." She gives her an exasperated look and leaves, turning the corner.

Afrika stays sitting for a moment and then she moves, jerking towards the phone. By time she was actually in front of the ringing device, it cuts off. She huffs a little but then it rings again. Slightly startled, she picks up the phone and brings it to her ear.

"Shakir residence." She says without infliction, using her last name to greet whomever.

A voice on the other end clears his throat. "Hello how are you doing today?" It wasn't the landlord.

Afrika stares silently at the wall, eyes picking at the small indent where she got angry at being denied to an "all access" library. Apparently, she was only allowed at a certain time. And by "she" she means people of her color.

"Living. You?" She returns, mentally drawing a box around her indent.

The man on the phone awkwardly chuckles, most likely picking up on her blatant show of disinterest. "Ahha, well let me just cut to the chase. A person by the name of....let's see, Afrika Shakir auditioned to become a background dancer. Does someone by that name reside there?"

A quick patter in her chest and suddenly she was paying attention. She doesn't dare assume however, keeping her thoughts bottled up tightly. "This is she."

"Great! This is Mac Stillwell, the audition coordinator. With a mistake on my end, I skipped over you're number. Number fifty eight should've been called."

The lid in her mind was rattling, vying to be subjected to the world of disappointments and woes. She keeps a strong hold on it.

"Pardon?" She coughs on air. On hope.

"Number fifty eight was picked to be part of the team. If that's you, welcome aboard."

The lids explodes and she screams happily, shocking the man who gasps then recovers laughing. He seems to be around this a lot. Roxxanne hurries into the room, scarf half tied around her head.

"What? What is it?" She asks, watching as Afrika stands there with a big smile on her face.

"I made it!" She can't help but say loudly. She was in shocks and everything seems brighter.

"What? Made what?" Roxxanne doesn't catch on fast enough.

Afrika gives her a pointed look and she gets it this time, screaming louder than she ever did. They both grin at each other.

"You made it! Yes, I knew it was a mistake! I knew it!" Roxxanne comes closer and squeezes her in a tight hug, making her smile in happiness.

As she puts the phone back up to her ear to get the information, Roxxanne mouths at her.

Ice cream. After.

She nods her head, putting her thumb up. Her ears perks up as Mac tells her everything she needs to know.

Maybe everything wasn't hopeless after all.

~

Not edited. Word count =1267

Short because I'm lazy and wasted
My off day. More to this later.

I used 58 as her number for the year mike was born. Anyone catch that?