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Karla Gibson has been doing hair in Brooklyn for almost 30 years and has had her shop for seventeen. From quick weave to pony tails, whatever you want she could possibly do it. She's well respected in the city too, because of her skills and her loyalty. Karla could've taken the first opportunity to get out of Brooklyn years ago. Instead, she decided to stay in the city she knows and cherishes, to continue doing what she loved for her people. It wasn't about the money either. She feels there's nothing better than servicing your own people, and it gave her a comfortable joy in doing so. Nate, her husband, fought against her decision for the longest until he finally gave up trying. There was nothing Nate could say that would change her mind, and once they lost Nate Jr., her mind was definitely settled. Not only was Brownsville home, but it was also the only piece of her son that she had left.
It was a slow day today. Usually, on Tuesday's the shop is appointments only. Friday and Saturday were the busiest because a lot of women wanted fresh weaves for the clubs. Karla liked the slow days, she had more time to just flow without a rush and being backed up. But no matter what day it was, there's a guarantee you'll hear some gossip in the shop. The hair salon was like a private news center, a tea room. Karla always listened and shook her head, even laughed here and there. There wasn't too much she engaged in because she's older now, those days are over.
The shop went quiet all of a sudden, Karla stood over her client's frame unbothered, gently massaging her scalp as the warm water ran through her long tresses. Women loved to get their hair washed by Karla, they say she has the magic touch. Focusing on the task at hand, she ignored the mouse whispers behind her, shaking her head at the nonsense. "Well good morning Kadeem" she spoke with no attempt to turn around. Knowing that the only people that could get women in her hair salon to stop gossiping is the cops and her son. Karla hated that Kadeem had that much effect on others, she raised him to believe in his powers but dominance wasn't one. The way he walked, the way he talked, he had control over a lot of people lives. Her son wasn't God, she refuses to look at him in such manner and wished that others would do the same.
"Morning beautiful" his warm lips touched her cheek quick as he gently squeezes her arm.
"What you need?" shooing him off quickly, she reaches to add the conditioner to the fistful of hair. Sensing the tension in her client's shoulders once his voice appeared in the room.
"Vanessa I need to holla' at you a minute" Karla looked over at her son as if he had three heads. Kadeem wasn't here to just say hello, he was here for trouble. Something she'd told him countless of times not to bring into her place of business.
"Kadeem you deadass? I don't have time for this today, go" she warned, "Why can't you just come and say hello, it's always something"she carried on ignoring the request of her son to her client. "Vanessa chill baby"Karla pressed a hand on Vanessa's chest for her to sit back.
"Vanessa"was all he said before walking towards the back of the shop.
Being almost 50 years old wasn't an issue when it came down to an ass whopping from mama Kuddie, she always threatens to give them out. Her son wasn't an exception, she would break a broomstick and beat him till' his skin turned purple. Kadeem knew it too, he tries not to disrespect his mother or put her in harm's way. "If you leave this chair Vanessa, you will have to leave this shop wet ma", her warning fell to closed ears, Vanessa sat up quickly letting her wet hair drip down her back, conditioner still sitting on top in globs.
"Sorry Karla", she could see the fear on Vanessa's face as she begins walking in the direction of Kadeem. Karla shook her head and glanced to the front of the shop. All eyes were on her, she knew they were waiting for an explanation, she didn't have one to give. Karla realized along time ago, that you can't fight others battles if they don't show up for support. There was nothing she could've done or said to stop Vanessa from jumping at the call of Kadeem, nothing. Kadeem's power was strengthened by his attractiveness, not only was he powerful in his actions, his looks played a major role in it as well. She's tried too many times to fight the battle of the streets against her son, she always lost both ways.
Spit flew from out his thick lips onto the ground, the back alley behind Mama Kuddie's shop smelled like piss and rotten somethings'. His hands occupied his pockets on this chilly morning as he looked to the left, then to the right. Just to make sure his men were where they needed to be. Vanessa's shadow appeared beside him, he continued looking straight ahead for a few more seconds. Vanessa knew not to speak first. "Where is he?"
"Ion know Kuddie, we cut loose weeks ago. He been ghost since." Vanessa spoke with a truthful tone, she wanted Kuddie to believe her. The last thing she wanted was trouble.
"What I tell you last time?" His eyes finally meeting hers slowly, Vanessa swallowed hard as she tried to ignore the painful chill of the coldness that surrounded her scalp and arms. She could feel her nipples getting harder as chill bumps covered her skin.
"It's facts Kuddie. I talked to his mama, his brotha' , his homies. Nobody knows, on mama I don't have a clue where that nigga is. He even left me with my baby by myself, I would've been ran you the coordinates if I knew"
Kuddie licked his lips smoothly, the cold wind drying them out. Staring at Vanessa as she stood shivering, he wanted to believe her story, he truly did. Maybe he would've if he didn't see the photos of Vanessa and her baby's father at a park in Staten Island. Photos that were just taken a few days ago. For the sake of his mother being in the vicinity, he decided to postpone his consequences for Vanessa, he just wanted to give her a chance to be truthful. Kadeem hated a liar, he felt it was easier to tell the truth than to lie and make the consequences worse. Especially if the lie was told to him.
"iight" he nodded looking away and giving a nod to one of his men. "Get the fuck outta here. Don't come back this way until you find him" he shook his head, disappointed in Vanessa. She was selfish, selfish enough to put her child in harms way to cover the tracks of a man that wouldn't hesitate to out her if he had to. Vanessa turned around to go recover her things that were in the shop. "Nah, Nah, I said get the fuck outta here" Vanessa looked back confused.
"I'm just going to get my jacket"
"Kick rocks Vanessa" To avoid seeing the pain in her eyes, he looked away again watching the cold smoke in front of his nose. Vanessa sniffs were an indicator that she was indeed cold, and he didn't feel bad for her at all. Vanessa did it to herself, his father always told him that the only person you can blame for your life is yourself. The key principle in life is to never fail you, ever."Yo run my ma her money for yo hair too, all of it".Vanessa's mouth hung open partially in shocked, she was dripping wet in 27-degree weather. She knew Kadeem was cold but she literally sees how cold he truly is. "Now!" Vanessa jumps before reaching into her bra quickly. Without counting she hands it all to him. Kadeem takes it without another word, and walks back into the shop.
"iight ma, see you lata" he announces his return, everyone's looking at him except his mother. Karla rolls her eyes and continues checking her client under the dryer. "Here" Kuddie puts the money in the pocket of her apron.
"Where's Vanessa?" Karla looked over her shoulder finally.
"You told her to leave wet, your words, not mine" Kadeem shrugs before giving his mother another kiss on the cheek and heading towards the front door.
"Lord that son of mine" Karla glances down at the folded twenty's knowing it was too much for a half shampoo, she made a mental note to call Vanessa and have her come get her money back. She watched Kadeem walk out of the shop, seconds later the whispers turned up in volume. Looking around at the ladies, "Oh now ya'll want to talk!" she scoffed and went back to work.
