“What a lowlife,” her friend agreed.
But Ricki didn’t care. It was that spotlight again. It was a chance for competitive Barb to prove, once and for all, that she won the battle. That they had it all wrong and she was the most likely to succeed. But Ricki could have told her that back then.
Inside the salon, Geraldine, the owner, was standing at the front counter with a customer. “I said no.”
“Come on, Geraldine, please.” A client was begging her as Ricki walked in.
“And I say no again. Do I look like a charity to you? This a salon. You got to pay to get your hair done up in here.”
“I’m gonna pay. Next week when I get paid you’ll get your money.”
“Then you come back next week with the coins, and we’ll be happy to do your hair,” said Geraldine. “You’re late,” she said to Ricki.
“No I’m not,” Ricki said as she glanced up at the clock on the wall behind the counter. It was two minutes before noon: her clock-in time.
“She’ll do it for me. Won’t you, Ricki?”
Geraldine laughed. “Girl, you better get on from round here. You’ll stand a better chance of Donald Trump doing your hair than Ricki Richardson!”
“All I need is four big braids. That’s all, Ricki. I’ll pay next week. But tomorrow I have a job interview. A job that’llchange my life if I can get it. I can’t go with my hair looking like this.”
Ricki gave more hairdos on credit than anybody else in the salon. Problem was, only a few kept their word and returnedwhen they got paid next weekwith the cash. And every time, that hairdo came out of Ricki’s paycheck. “If you’re lying to me, Neika, I’ll track you down like a hit man.”
“I’m not lying, I declare I’m not.” The salon phone began ringing. Geraldine answered it. “You’ll get your money. I’m good for it and you know it.”
It was the same thing JoJo had said to her. But the girl’s hair was jacked-up. And if she did have a job interview that could change her life. And after that, maybe she’d get out of this life of struggling. “Okay. But just four braids.”
“That’s all I need,” Neika said.
“It’s for you,” said Geraldine.
“For me? Who is it?”
“Didn’t I tell you about personal calls on my phone? What happened to your cell phone?”
“Nothing. I got it right here. Who is it?”
“Some cop.”
A cop? Ricki’s heart dropped. She took the phone from Geraldine. “Hello?”
“Is this Rasheda Richardson?”
“Yes it is. Who is this?”
“I’m Sergeant Austin with the Milton PD. Your sister wanted me to call and tell you that her bail hearing has been set for four p.m. today.”
Ricki was puzzled. “Bail hearing? What bail hearing?”
“The bail hearing that will determine if she gets out until trial, or have to stay in jail.”
“What do you mean? There’s been some mistake. My sister isn’t in jail.”
“Is your sister Erica Richardson?”
“Yes, but--”
“Then there’s no mistake. She’s been arrested for the murder of Dr. Harvey Proctor.”
