“What?”
“Now you know I love you, right?”
“Yeah I know. What’s up?”
“What the hell is going on with your hair?” She raises a brow, and my jaw drops as I touch my wig.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Girl, don’t fucking play with me. You know damn well what the hell is wrong with it…” She shakes her head, and I pull out my phone, peeking at it.
“Friend, you’re taking soft life, hard wig way too seriously. Make sure you take your ass to the salon when you leave here.”
“But I just went to the salon…”
“Nah, aBlacksalon. If you don’t smell burnt hair and not sitting in somebody kitchen while they eating take out and talking loud as hell on the phone with they baby daddy, you not getting your hair done right.”
“But…”
“But nothing, Mel… you got to take that shit off,” she chuckles, and I sag.
“Damn, is it that bad?”
“Friend…” she pauses, staring at my hair, making me grow self-conscious.
“Fine, bitch, stop gawking at me! I’ll take your advice then.” I set my phone down, listening to her because one thing Connie will do is tell it like it is. She’s the most honest, yet genuine and sweet friend I have.
“Good, because when I get back I’ma check. Now come on, so I can fly to get my back broke in.”
I throw my head back laughing as the waiter comes up.
“Is there anything I can get you ladies?”
“No, thank you. May I please get the check?” Connie asks in her most professional voice.
“Absolutely. Will this be split o?—”
“It will be together, thank you.” She smiles politely, pulls out her bank card, and I wait for him to leave before turning to her.
“Girl, I could have gotten the bill.”
“No, I got you. I’m paying it forward.” She beams, and we continue our conversation until the waiter comes back to get her to sign, and then I walk her outside, where I see Pyper waiting for her and wave goodbye.
“You both enjoy your trip.”
“See you in two weeks.” They wave, and I go over to the car where my personal driver opens the door.
“Where to, Mel? Home?” Lionel asks after I get in. I almost say yes until I catch my reflection in the window and cringe, jumping back, scaring my own damn self.Damn, wig blindness is a real damn thing.
“No, take me to the nearest Black hair salon.”
“The nearest Black hair salon?” He pauses, turning to look at me, frowning, and I groan when he looks at my wig and nods.
“I got you, Mel. Say less, but let me make a call first.” He turns around, and my mouth drops open because I’ve never heard Lionel speak like that before. But I stay quiet as I see him pull out his phone. “Siri, call Reighn.”
Calling Reighn.
We sit there while the phone rings an?—
