Street Love

Woman In Black

O. Maraj

There was something refreshing about having a salon full of beautiful, black women. Ranging from islanders to those natural brick houses from the Mississippi area. The variety in our bodies, our hairs, our swag. It was a familiar vibe and a vibe that kept my salon thriving. Almost as if my permanent state of being was grateful every time I was able to bring a smile to my clientele's faces', there was a smile that always plastered upon mine.

My mundane thoughts were interrupted when Cam'ron's "Soap Opera" began on the surround sounds.

I knew nothing of that fast-paced living, my mother and father, both project raised, refused to allow me any experience life within proximity of any project. But if the music was dope or something I grew up on, it was for surely going on the surround sounds. Personally, the streets wasn't a place for me or anybody I hung around and my father made sure of that. My brothers on the other hand......

But, it was never any of that drama shit within my establishment. My clients understood that, and for as long as I've been running my salon, I have not had any unprofessional incidents occur.

"Bitch, guess who will be outside tonight," my best friend, Lauren, sat up as I rinsed the last bit of conditioner from her hair.

My interest peeked, "who?"

"B."

I rolled my eyes at whoever the fuck B was, as if I'd known a B or something.

"I'm happy to know that B will be outside tonight," I replied back now applying her leave in conditioner before stepping away and prepping for my clients for today.

"So you actin' brand new?" Lauren giggled, lathering the rest of the product into her scalp, angering me even more as this B person remained incognito.

"She's talking about that girl from downtown, the one all them lil' niggas at school and inna hood tryna be like. She a real trapper," Stephen, my little brother, blurted in, I was just a tad more interested in this B person now. With no further thought, but curious as to how my brother obtained knowledge on the person he described B to be.

Mama and Daddy never really allowed me a real taste of the hood. I had to grow up and sneak out to see that raw, nitty gritty shit myself. And I don't regret a damn thing, if it were up to my parents I would be soaking wet behind the ears still. To them, I was their only girl and baby girl. Keeping it that way for as long as possible was the ultimate goal.

I hadn't had my experience yet, and they said be careful what you wish for.....but I was craving that excitement. Something good, hood, and sweet to hold me at night or protect me in these wicked times.

"Y'all will have to show me a picture," I handed Lauren some tea tree oil and sat in the spinning chair next to her.

Stephen pulled up a picture of three people, all tall in stature and dripped in gold. From their neck plates to their watches and wristbands. Guns as long as their torso hung from their arms as they posted up on the avenue downtown.

The only thing I could see were their eyes as they all sported turbans and ski masks. From left to right, the middle one I could tell was a female and something dangerous with the hazel in her eyes sparkling through a phone lens.

"Her with the blonde hair," Lauren said as she pointed to the tall figure in the middle who had a gun as long as her lower body that was pretty long itself. Her eyes reflected the sharpness of the sun, not just in color but in intensity, darkness with a peak of light, and that alone caught my attention. I involuntarily blurred her two counterparts and focused on the figure who had her face concealed.