By Friday afternoon, the salon had already decided Cade Cunningham's arrival was now an event. Nobody said it directly at first, but the signs were obvious. One coworker checked the front window twice.
Another casually asked Emani if she wanted her later appointment pushed "just in case company arrived."
Even the receptionist had started smiling every time the bell over the door moved, as though the day had developed suspense.
Emani ignored all of it, at least outwardly. Inside, though, she noticed she had checked the clock more than usual after lunch. Not because she expected anything, but because she had told herself she didn't.
Which somehow made noticing worse.
When five-thirty arrived, she was finishing a style near the front when the bell rang. This time the room reacted before she looked up.
Riley entered first, bright energy leading the way as always, recital bag replaced by a small backpack she probably did not need.
Behind her came Cade, sporting a hoodie, jacket, cap low, carrying himself with the same calm he always did when stepping into spaces where people noticed him. And, they definitely noticed him.
"There she is!" Riley announced like Emani belonged to the day already.
One coworker muttered softly from two stations over, "See? Scheduled excitement."
Emani fought the smile threatening too early.
"You brought a backpack for a braid appointment?"
Riley lifted it proudly, "Snacks. In case hair takes too long."
"That sounds like preparation from your grandmother," she said.
"Grandma packed it."
"Exactly."
Cade laughed quietly behind her, "She also said I'm not allowed to rush you."
"That sounds like wise parenting."
"That sounds like my mother."
The room softened quickly because Riley had a way of making every entrance feel smaller and easier. Emani draped the cape around her while Cade settled into the nearby chair, but unlike the earlier appointments, this time he looked less rushed.
No post-practice weight, no travel fatigue and most certainly not distracted with the time every few minutes.
Just present.
Riley immediately began talking. About dance class, one girl at school who apparently cried because someone borrowed glitter pens without permission, even how her teacher now believed Friday should mean good hair every week.
"She may be right," Emani answered while sectioning.
Cade leaned back in the chair, watching the two of them move through conversation like it had become familiar. Somehow that familiarity made the moment settle around him.
Because even the coworkers noticed the difference now:
He stayed, he did not scroll endlessly, and he listened.
At one point one stylist passed by and asked Riley if she was charging appearance fees yet.
She answered seriously, "No, because I'm six."
Which made the room laugh. Halfway through the style, Cade's phone buzzed twice.
He glanced once, then ignored it.
That did not escape Emani. So observant of the things involving him, it made her sick.
"You usually answer those."
"Depends who it is."
YOU ARE READING
me & tomfoolery
CasualeA book of nothingness and everything at the same time. Welcome to my mf thoughts.
