“What’s on your mind, Son?”
There were so many things on my mind that I wasn’t sure where to begin. Until I caught my charge, my father and I didn’t even have a relationship. He was always in and out of prison, and when I was five years old, he caught a case that was going to hold him for a lifetime if the system got its way. When I first came in, I ignored him every day in the yard, but he made it hard by having me moved to his pod.
He would come to my cell every day, lean on the doorway, and talk to me, even if I didn’t talk back. Eventually, the little boy in me who always wanted a relationship with his father won over. Even though he expressed how much he hated that I followed in his footsteps, he was not too proud to accept accountability. We both knew my options were limited without the proper guidance, so instead of making me feel bad about myself, he spent seven years building me up. We were so close now that I was actually going to miss him when I got my freedom back.
“Just wondering what it’s about to be like.”
The sound of the dice clattered across the floor before they both hollered out. I wasn’t sure who won what, but my father came to sit beside me a minute later. He cupped my shoulder.“Don’t stress yourself trying to predict the future. You’ve got a second chance to do things right; focus on that.” He dropped his hand and straightened his posture. “I don’t ever want to see you in here again unless it’s to visit me. You’re too intelligent for these four walls. I need you to trust and believe that in your heart.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know. I’m not coming back, OG. I promise.” I placed my hand over my heart to say my word was bond.
He put an arm around my shoulder and hugged me tightly to his side. “I love you, Son.” He kissed my forehead. “If you ever need some support, call Tashay. She’ll look out for you.”
Tashay was his longtime girlfriend who worshipped the ground he walked on. The last thing I wanted to do was call on her and feed into her delusions of a big, happy family. So, instead of replying, I simply nodded.
We talked about the things they all wanted me to do or send them pictures of until it was time for lockdown. I headed back to my cell, feeling lighter and excited about what was to come. Tomorrow, I would finally get my freedom and build my family up. That was all a nigga really wanted for real—to be more than what the world had labeled me as, to be the kind of man my son could be proud of.
“Aye, Trap just got here,”Tyrell told me from the breakroom entrance. I was sitting on the couch finishing my braised wings and house-fried rice. It was much needed because I was starving. I knew better than to skip lunch, but we had a full house as niggas got ready for their weekend festivities.
It was officially spring, so things were starting to heat up socially in the city. All the people who were in hibernation for the winter were ready to pop back out. Using the back of my hand to wipe my mouth, I nodded. “Okay, cool. Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”
I needed to gather myself. I didn’t necessarily dislike Trap, but he was always trying to cross the line between client and service provider. No matter how many times I’d told him Iwasn’t interested, he wouldn’t ease up. I prayed that today, he would be too occupied on his phone to be bothered by my presence. Those appointments were my favorite.
Standing with a sigh, I grabbed my can of ginger ale from the coffee table and downed the rest of it. I tossed all my trash in the garbage can, then headed to the sink to wash my hands. After a few deep breaths, I made my way to the front of the shop.
“Ooh wee, you wearing that dress for me, baby?” Trap asked as soon as his eyes landed on me. I frowned because I instantly knew what that meant. This would be one of those days when I debated whether I should continue servicing him.
I nodded toward my chair. “You ready?” I asked, keeping my tone even and professional.
He hopped up quickly and made it over to my booth in a few strides. After he took a seat, I tied my barbering cape around him and got ready to start.
“What would you like me to do today?” I asked for clarity. His hair hadn’t grown back too much, so I had a feeling he was here, literally, to terrorize me.
“Just clean me up, baby girl.” He licked his lips salaciously as he eyed me in the mirror. I ignored his predatory gaze and reached for my clippers. I said a silent prayer for strength, then turned them on.
Most of the haircut went off without a hitch, until it was time for me to clean up his goatee, which required me to stand in front of him. He opened his legs suggestively, and the moment I bent down in front of him, his voice made the hair on my arms stand up.
“You so fucking pretty, and you always smell so damn good.” He tucked his bottom lip and smirked. “I wanna kiss those big, juicy lips. You gon’ let me?”
“Fuck no. Listen, just be quiet, and let me finish so you can go.”
He chuckled. “I’m not in no rush, baby girl. How many more clients you got today? You wanna go get some food after this?”
I stood up and planted a hand on my hip. “I already ate,” I told him with a straight face. “And respectfully, I am not interested. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this. Now, can you please just let me do my job?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I don’t want the haircut. I want you. You keep having to tell me because I don’t believe you. I know you want me too.”
I turned the clippers off and set them down with a shake of my head. “Well, having me isn’t an option, so enjoy the rest of your day. I can’t help you.”
I began untying my apron and laid it on the back of the empty booth chair beside me.
“That dress is hugging every curve in the right places.”
My stomach dropped, and I felt sick. I looked to my coworkers, who were also here, to see if they would defend me, but neither of them batted an eye. They stayed focused on their clients like they couldn’t hear me experiencing verbal sexual assault. I understood Trap was the owner’s brother, but it didn’t give him the right to constantly harass me. I was officially fed up with it. His tips weren’t even worth the headache.
I began to walk away, completely done with cutting his hair, when I felt a sting from him slapping my ass. “Aye, get back over here and finish my haircut, woman,” he joked, causing an uproar of laughter in the barbershop.
I immediately saw red. I couldn’t believe so many men would be willing to sit around and watch this take place. Since it was clear I would have to take matters into my own hands, I hauled off and punched him right in the mouth. “Ain’t shit funny now, huh?” I asked before continuing to rain punches on him.
