"If I told you I was toxic, would you believe me?"
Poison is strong; almost a force of it's own, and it's more than capable of inflicting pain, illness and even death. Some say poison is unassailable, but what if it actually isn't? What if there's a...
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I R I S R O M O N T I
All around the room, ear deafening sounds could be heard from miles away. Babies screaming, ignoring the constant effort of pacification from their parents filled the small area. Due to the skin bubbling weather, fans blowing on high power cooled the room. Women of all shades, shapes, and sizes occupied the many chairs. They all fanned themselves, trying to do what the fans were struggling to.
"You really need to invest in some air conditioning Delilah." A woman said, practically smashing her face into the largest fan in the room.
Delilah only laughed. The humid air that filled the room didn't bother her much, seeing as she grew up in a house with no air conditioning.
"For real, girl. I'm dying. You know this ain't for pregnant people." Another client laughed while rubbing her plump belly. She was only 6 months along but looked 8. The twins were growing quickly.
Delilah, the owner of the beauty salon, held a flat iron in one hand and a bottle of hair spray in the other. She enjoyed listening to her clients talk, even if they were complaining about her shop being hotter than the devil's toenails. She laughed as they went on and on.
Delilah was a beautiful woman, her looks ran deep and her genes even deeper. Her light caramel skin glistened, something she'd gotten from her mother, who had gotten it from her mother as well. She sported a short pixie cut with beautiful dark hair. Of course, being a hairdresser, she styled it herself. She was curvy, but not model curvy. Her body was definitely not "perfect", for she had hips and a large trunk that many would bash her for because of the scars it held. Lumps, stretch marks, and cellulite. Her waist looked as if it'd been pulled in by a gifted sculptor, yet her stomach was not at all flat. She also had tiny breasts and muscular arms. All terrible in the eye of Hollywood, but aside from other people...she didn't mind. She didn't mind because the scars on her body came from the best thing that had ever happened to her...her daughter.
As if right on cue, her offspring came marching right in. Looking terribly exhausted, she threw her tote bag on the counter and sat behind the front desk sleepily. Her short curls flopped as she plopped her head down.
Feeling concerned, Delilah took action. "Cynthia can you wash this deep conditioner out of Cassie's hair, please?" She motioned her head in her daughter's direction, indicating why she had to take a break.
Cynthia nodded and got to work on the clients hair as Delilah tended to her child.
Walking over, she rubbed her daughter on the back. "What's wrong this time, Iris?"
