Janita knew not to try. She looked at her brother, hunched her shoulders to demonstrate just how powerless they were in such a situation, and went with the flow: She did her job.
Once inside, the owner of the boutique, surprised to see Mrs. Webster, hurried over and escorted her most prominent client to the VIP dressing room. Janita did a sweep of the room to ensure there was no danger nor hidden cameras inside, and then she left the client inside the dressing room.
After the owner fetched several dresses for Mrs. Webster to try on and returned to the dressing room with the handful of clothes, Janita waited outside the closed door as her client tried on various dresses. Although the owner of the boutique was accustomed to Reecie Webster dropping by without any heads up, it still left the entire store flustered and excited all at the same time. Janita and Von were just flustered.
The owner came out twice, looking even more excited both times, as she brought in even more clothing for Reecie to try on. Then she left the room a third time to go get even more clothing. She no longer looked flustered. She looked mad.
But no angrier than Janita was getting. This was taking way too long.
“If it ain’t Janita Cooper.”
Janita looked to her left at the sound of that voice and then smiled when she saw her friend from high school walking her way. “Hey Peaches!”
Peaches looked around at the other salesladies who were helping customers, and at the owner who was in what they calledthe glass locker where only their highest-priced clothing was kept, then she eased up to Janita with a concerned look on her face. “Girrl, don’t you dare call me that name around here.” Her voice was low. “These white folks don’t know me by that name.”
Janita found that crazy. “Since Peaches is your actual God-given name, what they know you by?”
“They call me Penelope girl,” she said with a grin. “Like I’m one of them.”
Neither one of them were one ofthem. Brackenridge, though considered one of the wealthiest towns in Tennessee, was a tale of two sides of town. One side was super-rich blueblood old, or nouveau-rich blueblood wannabes. The other side was working-class poor folks, or struggling middle-class folk. Like Janita. Like Peaches. And only for work did the two sides ever meet. “You? One of them?” Janita said with a grin. “Now that’s what I call funny!” And they both laughed.
“But for real, girl, what’s going on? I already saw your brother walking around in this store. I wanted to ask him what was his fine ass doing in a woman’s clothing store, but I had a customer. Now I’m asking you the same question: What you doing standing all at attention at this dressing room like you some prison guard?”
That was close, Janita thought. “I’m working,” she said. “So is Von. We own a security company.”
“Security?For real?”
“For real. It’s called Cooper Security,” Janita said proudly. “It’s been up and running for four years. We just got this gig three months ago though.”
“You’re telling me Mrs. Webster is one of your clients?”
She was their only real client. Everybody else used them for special events only, like club concerts or outdoor parties or neighborhood-wide cookouts. Or, more often, as backups to major security companies who needed extra hands. Althoughgood gigs to have, it was their contract with Mrs. Webster that kept the lights on and their business finally above water with the signing bonus her husband paid them. Though it was still barely above water. “She wanted an African-American company to be her security detail for a change. Since we’re the only black-owned security firm in Brackenridge, we got the job.”
“Now that’s some for real shit right there,” Peaches said. “But that’s what I like about Reecie Webster. She didn’t marry that rich white man and get all bougie and stuck up like most black women around here do. She supports her people. She knows where she came from. She’s aw’ight.”
Although Reecie Webster wasn’t the friendliest person Janita had ever met, and that woman was a long way from where she came from, she couldn’t help but agree with her old friend. They would have never gotten a high-dollar client like the Webster matriarch had it not been for her devotion and patronage to people of color like Janita and Von. “So what have you been up to all these years?” Janita asked her friend.
“Nothing girl. Just working. I do hair on the side though. I got a big contest coming up.”
“A hair contest?”
“That’s right,” Peaches said as she began checking out Janita’s thick hair as it dropped down in wavy bounciness a quarter down her back. “You got that good hair I can use for one of my styles.”
“Don’t call it that,” Janita said frowningly. She absolutely hated that phrase, because it implied something that went all the way back to slavery days. As if black hair wasn’t “good” unless it was wavy like hers. “I despise that term,” she added.
“Okay, okay, I won’t use it again,” Peaches said with a smile. She remembered just how much Janita hated thatgood hairphrase kids would always say to her all through high school. “But you know what I mean. I got enough natural hair models.And they gonna be slammin’, don’t get me wrong. But boy could I use somebody with your hair texture for a change up. Are you interested?”
Janita was lost. “Interested in what?”
“Come here, I’ll show you.”
Janita followed her over to the desk that was across the room from the dressing room, although Janita could still keep her eyes on the dressing room. Peaches went behind the desk and pulled out her portfolio booklet and opened it up. “Take a look.”
Janita smiled when she saw all of the outrageously creative hairstyles on the pages. “Wow, Peach. You did these?”
“Every one of them. But I always place second or third. I never win any of the contests I compete in. They say I need more diversity in hair textures. But that ain’t easy to get.” Then she looked at Janita. Even in high school she always envied her quiet grace and unique kind of beauty even when Janita insisted she wasn’t beautiful at all. But Peaches knew better. Boys told her all the time Nita had that special something. “That’s where you come in at.”
Janita looked at her. “Me?”
