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MOTHER
The salon was already in full swing by the time I came in to work after school.
No one but Josephine greeted me while the others instantly pointed me to either the ringing phone, or an item from the back that they were in need of. The steady buzz of business radiated throughout the air, barely making the music heard it seemed.
I fell in step quickly, rushing here and there as commanded with each new order barked out at me. Manual labor was for the birds, but something about Angela had me not questioning her or backtalking her.
My first two hours blew by in a blur of gossip, the hairdryer going on and off, nail drills, and the echoes of the phone ringing. The smell of hair products permeated the room, but it was no match for the plug-ins in the free outlets. A fruity scent hung about, making me want candy.
"You know Jacqueline single again," Ms. Josephine said to Angela, a sneaky look in her eye.
Angela's face twisted up as she styled her client's hair with a rat tail comb. She'd taken the woman's thick hair and straightened it to where it was fine. The world of Angela's salon was very much new to me. I was in no way familiar with Black hair, but it fascinated me watching the women create magic in each different chair. From straightening hair, to braiding it, to cutting, to curling, there was so much to do with Black-American hair texture I admired more and more.
"If you don't leave my son alone, Jo," Angela warned sternly.
This got a cackle out of Ms. Josephine.
Angela was protective of Dreux, and he seemed to be just as loyal to her. It was admirable.
A piece of my heart throbbed as my eyes glided to where my phone sat on the front desk in front of me.
The door to the shop opened and Dreux breezed in. The sight of her son caused Angela to lighten up, going from murky night sky to bright morning.
"Hey," she greeted him with a friendly smile.
Dreux went and kissed her cheek, causing the women in the room to swoon in a chorus of "awws."
And then he looked at me, even more, he came over to where I sat at the front desk. He pressed his hands down on top, resting his weight into them, his muscles bulging. "How's it going?"
They were looking at us, making me nervous and all too aware we were not alone.
"It's been busy," I said. "Hectic."
"You haven't seen a weekend," Dreux teased. His dark eyes appraised my books. "Studying?"
