Testimony {August Alsina}

One: Are You Ready?

**DEVAN"S POV**

“I Love It!” Justice beamed, tossing her freshly wanded hair back and forth from one shoulder to the other.

“I’m glad you like it. I know you said you only wanted it washed, treated, and curled, but you know I just couldn’t resist my urge to give you some layers”

“No, no. It’s perfect! I’ll be a victim of your scissor addiction any day!” She reached into her purse pulling out a hundred dollar bill. I shook my head declining the offer.

“You know my conscience won’t let me take that. It’s only twenty for the wash, twelve for the treatment, plus twenty-five for the wand curls.”

“I’ve been coming to you since you graduated beauty school. Believe me, I know your prices”, She truthfully explained. ”Just think of it as my way of saying thank you for those times I couldn’t pay.” I knew Justice for a few years now, but it felt like forever. 

Justice and I the summer before senior year and we instantly clicked. She was my best friend and over the years she became my sister. She’d been through a lot when I met her, but you would never know by looking at her because the smile on her face never faded. An absentee father, alcoholic mother, and one abusive relationship after another. I would always do her hair and cover her bruises whenever she had a job interview or even just to cheer her up every once in a while, no charge. She would always tell me the look in her daughter's eyes after a long day is what kept her going everyday and what pushed her to become a nurse. I hesitantly slid the bill from her hand, pulling her into a hug.

“Thanks, Jus.”

…ONE HOUR LATER…

“$665. $685. $705. Pretty good for a Thursday!” I encouraged myself closing the register and walking out of the shop for the night. I locked the doors and stepped back to admire the big, bright letters stretched across the window, Devine Hands.As I Ran My finger admiringly along the ‘D’ reminiscing on times when I didn’t believe it would happen. Life was always a struggle for me. At five, my parents were killed in a car accident, leaving my grandmother to raise me.

**PLAY THE VIDEO IN THE MM**

"I am ready for love.

Why are you hiding from me?” An angelically, raspy voice flooded my ears. I peeked around the corner of the popular tattoo parlor, Ink'd Up. I found myself starring in amazement at the masterpeice before me. The tone of his voice sent chills through my body.

"I'd quickly give up my freedom

To be held in your captivity

I am ready for love

All of the joy and the pain

And all of the time that it takes

Just to stay in your good grace,"The skin of his body resembled a smooth river of honey begging my tongue to take a dip. His plump, pink lips sat perfectly on his face. .He stood singing along to the music echoing from his phone, oblivious to the rest of the world. His left hand stuffed into the pocket of his over-worn cargo pants, while his right gracefully danced to the harmony of his voice as he sang.

“Lately I've been thinking

Maybe you're not ready for me

Maybe you think I need to learn maturity

They say watch what you ask for

Cause you might receive

But if you ask me tomorrow

I'll say the same thing

I am ready for love

Would you please lend me your ear?

I promise I won't complain

I just need you to acknowledge I am here

If you give me half a chance

I'll prove this to you

I will be patient, kind, faithful and true

To a girl who loves music

A girl who loves art

Respects the spirit world

And thinks with her heart," My mouth was agape and my knees buckled as he effortlessly belted the song. No disrespect to Ms.India Arie, but I could've sworn it was writtten for his voice only.

"I am ready for love"

“No! PLEASE DON'T STOP!” I thought to myself as he finished. His head finally turned in my direction and his lips curled into a shy, yet cocky, grin.

“I-I’m sorry, ma. I didn’t know anyone could hear me.” He apologized removing his shades, revealing a face so familiar to me.

“Oh you have no reason to apologize. I need to be thanking you. That was amazing!” I said trying to dim the Kool-Aid smile plastered across my face.

“Haha well, it’s good to hea’ that from somebody besides my mama. Thanks.” That New Orleans Accent. That Smile. Those lips. It couldn’t be! Could It?

*Thanks For Reading. Don't Forget To Vote &'d Comment!