“Hey,” Renae said, giving a general greeting to everyone. Although she felt the weird energy, she would never enter a room and not speak.
A few mumbled hello, including the women who just had so much to say about her. Symone didn’t offer a thing, just likeOrielle didn’t. Renae took a seat in Kee, her stylist’s chair, and yawned.
“Hey, girl. Thank you for squeezing me in,” Renae said.
“You know it’s no problem. This sew-in is only two weeks old. You must be about to go out of town since you only booked a touch-up.”
Renae nodded. “Mhm. Need a quick change of scenario. It’s starting to feel real fake around here.”
Charity coughed and chuckled lowly, while Symone smirked. From where she was sitting and the way her chair was positioned, Renae saw them both.
“Is something funny?” she asked, looking right at Symone.
She glanced around and asked, “You can’t be talking to me.”
“I’m talking to whoever thinks something is funny.”
“Well, you’re talking to the entire shop then, goofy. You’ve been clowned enough for the year, so you might want to hush and get that weave touched up, boo.” Symone didn’t feel like going back and forth with her, but she would. Unlike Orielle, she loved to give a bitch a good read.
Renae crossed her legs and smiled. “Or what? Y’all made it so obvious that I was the topic of discussion before I walked in, and now everyone is on mute. Don’t get quiet now.”
Charity laughed. “Renae, just stop. You know how the shop is when someone’s business gets aired out in the town. You’ve been in here plenty of times and gossiped with us, so don’t act brand new.”
“I’m not acting like anything, but don’t be weird because I’m sitting here. Clearly, some people don’t like me because they couldn’t get back what they lost, and that’s why I said something,” Renae said, looking directly at Symone.
“Girl,” Symone said through laughter. “Just let it go. You fumbled a real nigga and that’s that.”
“Yeah, okay. But I’m still put up and taken care of. You wish you could say the same.” Renae smirked, feeling like she’d won.
“Baby, I’m married andfaithfulto a professional baseball player. Let’s not discuss put up and taken care of. My lifestyle is one you’ll never know shit about. And even if you did, you wouldn’t know what to do with it.” Symone popped her shit, while slickly showing off her wedding ring.
The entire shop was silent as they waited to see what Renae had to say next. Unfortunately, all she did was suck her teeth, pull out her phone, and text her group chat.
“Sooo,” Charity dragged out. “How about those Chiefs?”
Everyone erupted in laughter, breaking the thick tension in the air. Giggling, Orielle took a sip from her water bottle. She’d just heard an earful and was thankful that she did. She no longer felt the need to ask Najee what was up, because obviously it was nothing at all.
“You good, boo?” Tya asked. She’d just finished oiling her scalp after braiding it down to secure her wig.
Orielle nodded. “Yes. Couldn’t be better.”
She wasn’t sure what this thing with Najee was becoming, or where it was going, but one thing she knew for sure... she wasn’t about to let anyone with a guilty conscience steal her peace. Orielle looked at herself in the mirror and smirked when she caught Renae staring. Just as quickly as their eyes met, Renae’s gaze faltered.
Sometimes, there wasn’t much to say.
The silence did all the talking for her.
8
“IT’S A PRIVILEGE TO KNOW WHERE I BE AT.”
Seeing the proud expression on his Aunt Joyce’s face as she stepped out of her car in front of Echelon Express’ office building was priceless to Najee. He’d missed seeing her smile so much while he was locked up, and knowing that he had another chance to do right was all he needed. Joyce never judged him; she just wanted him to stay on the straight and narrow, no matter what came his way.
Losing his mama at fourteen could’ve made Najee’s life go in a completely different direction had it not been for Joyce. There was no road map on how to handle grief. It didn’t matter how many counselors he spoke to, prayers he said, and tears he shed, Najee had to figure it out. With no father in the picture, he had no choice but to. He became the man of the house and a father to Nyesha before he could create his own family.
Najee never once complained, though. That would’ve gotten him nowhere. Was it disheartening having to hustle the way he did instead of going to college like his friends? Absolutely. Did he want to splurge on expensive gifts, take trips, and be treatedto the finest of things at twenty-one? Most definitely, but life called. He had a sister to care for and an aunt to support. If he fucked off, there was no one to fill his size thirteen shoes.
According to the streets and the people he’d already lost to them, Najee wasn’t supposed to make it to see twenty-five. But here he was. A proud Black business owner and a wealthy one at that. He’d beaten the odds.
