Chapter 8
8
Two weeks later, Tracey arrived at Joanne’s salon on Main Street at six thirty in the morning. Joanne unlocked the door and let her inside. She had a bright smile on her face as she greeted Tracey and gave her a big hug. Joanne was older than Tracey, with honey-brown skin and long blonde locs. She was also the best beautician in Peachtree Cove. She’d been doing hair in her home since she was a teenager but had opened her own salon on Main Street.
She’d been doing Tracey’s hair for years. They’d been cool with each other since Tracey was in high school, and Tracey had always admired Joanne for never giving up on her dream to open a salon despite the naysayers underestimating her when she’d gotten pregnant young and her first attempt at opening a business failed. When Joanne started dating Tracey’s younger brother, Devante, they’d become friends.
“You ready to do this?” Joanne said running her fingers over Tracey’s kinky hair. It had taken most of the previous day for Tracey to remove her braids.
Tracey sighed and gave Joanne a hesitant smile as she met her eye in the mirror at Joanne’s station in her salon. “I think so. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”
Joanne laughed and placed a comforting hand on Tracey’s shoulder. “It’s just me and you first thing this morning. The other stylists start around eight or nine, depending on their clients.”
“Then, why are we here so early?” Tracey said with fake grumpiness. In truth, she was an early riser. She liked to get up early and make sure breakfast was ready when there were visitors in the inn. Then there was always some sort of maintenance work that needed to be done. The home was in decent shape, but the fact that it was over seventy years old also meant that things needing attention were constantly popping up. The success of the inn helped her handle most of the maintenance costs.
Joanne placed a hand on her hip before gently pulling and tugging on Tracey’s hair. She studied Tracey’s hair while talking. “Because we’re going to be here all day. I like to start early when I’m installing locs.” She removed the band Tracey had used to tie back her hair.
Tracey pressed a hand to her stomach. It fluttered like dozens of bees were buzzing around inside. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Joanne gave her a knowing smile. “I’m glad you’re finally doing this. I told you that you might as well loc your hair years ago. All you do is wear it in braids all the time.”
Tracey placed a hand on the side of her braid-free hair. “I know, but I was just afraid to do it.”
Joanne pulled out a royal blue cover that was embossed with the name and logo of her salon in gold letters and wrapped it around Tracey’s front. “I don’t know why you were afraid. I told you that you’re going to look great.”
Sighing, she met Joanne’s eyes in the mirror. “Honestly, I was afraid of what Bernard would think.”
Joanne scowled. “Are you for real?”
Tracey nodded. “He always said he hated locs. He thought they looked dirty and messy. He said I would look bad in them. He didn’t like my hair braided, but he preferred that over locs or my natural hair out.”
Tracey hadn’t told anyone about the way Bernard would make her feel self-conscious over her natural hair. When she’d decided to stop getting relaxers due to the stress on her hair and scalp, he’d teased her and said she looked like Buckwheat from The Little Rascals whenever she’d worn her hair in its natural coils. She’d kept her hair braided or twisted to avoid him flinging any further insults disguised as jokes.
“That man is an asshole,” Joanne said shaking her head. “I’d like to say I can’t believe he would say that, but there are enough women who sit in my chair who’ve told me about the things they can and can’t do to their hair because of their man.”
“I hate that I let him dictate what I did for so long.”
Joanne gently squeezed Tracey’s shoulders. Her eyes were compassionate as they met Tracey’s reflection in the mirror. “You were married to him, and he was supposed to have your best interests at heart. You’re better off now and don’t have to give a damn about what he has to say, okay?”
Tears pricked Tracey’s eyes. She blinked them away and gave Joanne a smile. “Girl, I know that. No man is ruling me ever again.”
Joanne nodded before giving Tracey’s shoulders another squeeze and saying, “Good. Now, not only are we doing micro locs, but how about some color?”
Tracey’s eyes widened. “Color, too. I don’t know, Tracey. That might be too much. What if I look weird?”
“Heifa, if you don’t get Bernard’s dumb words out of your head… You are beautiful and sexy. When I’m done with you, Bernard and every other man in this town will be wishing they could curl up next to you.”
Tracey burst out laughing. “The last thing I want or need is another man right now.”
Joanne pursed her lips. “I am not a believer in the every woman needs a man philosophy, but I am a believer in getting some when you need some. All I’m saying is don’t knock the next brotha because of what Bernard did. When I’m done with you and you’re feeling as sexy as you look, take up one of them offers and be reminded that Bernard was a fool who didn’t know how to appreciate a woman like you.”
The tears pricked Tracey’s eyes again. She was used to getting support from Imani and Halle. Even her mom supported her decision to leave Bernard, but she wasn’t ready for the love Joanne was throwing her way. She blinked quickly to prevent the emotion swelling in her chest from showing and waved her hand. “Fine, I’ll remember that. Now, stop pep-talking me, and let’s do this.”
After coloring Tracey’s hair, Joanne took her over to the washbowl and scrubbed her hair and scalp so good Tracey couldn’t help but let out a moan. She imagined all the negative things Bernard had ever said to her washing down the drain with the suds. She was doing this for her. Getting micro locs was something she’d always wanted to do. She didn’t have to think about or care what Bernard or anyone else had to say. This was her head, her hair and her life.
She was back in Joanne’s chair, chatting about Joanne’s son and how well he was doing with his job in Chicago when the front door was unlocked and Tracey’s brother, Devante, entered. He was tall and brown-skinned like her dad. But unlike her dad, his eyes weren’t yellow from years of drinking, and his figure was fit from his daily workouts and job as a contractor.
Devante walked over and kissed Joanne first before bending to place a kiss on Tracey’s cheek. “What’s up, Tracey.”
“What are you doing here?” Tracey asked.
“I always check in on Joanne before I go out for the day. Make sure she’s good.” He held a tray with two cups of coffee in one hand and a bag from the Books and Vibes coffee shop and bookstore in the other. “Joanne said you were coming in early today. So I brought you both some breakfast. I gotta make both of you eat.”
Joanne grinned and leaned over to kiss him again. “Thank you, baby. Tracey, your brother is spoiling me.”
“I’m not surprised. He’s been crazy about you since he was thirteen.”
Her brother shot her a look. “Stop trying to embarrass me. What are you doing with your hair?”
Joanne pointed to the small locs she’d started at the base of Tracey’s neck. “I’ve colored it. Now we’re locing it up.”
She’d decided to go bold with color. She’d always wanted to have red hair, and Joanne hadn’t disappointed her. The reddish-gold color complemented her brown skin and made Tracey feel as if she looked five years younger.
Devante raised a brow as he set the coffee and pastries on the small table next to Joanne’s station. “You’ve been talking about it for a minute. It looks good.”
“I was finally ready to bite the bullet. What do you have going on today?” She changed the subject. If she got into the reason why she’d delayed doing this to her hair, her brother would go looking for Bernard.
“Working on the mall renovation. Thanks to Andre making me a subcontractor on this project. Then I’ve got to check in on my crew working on another project in Augusta. I’ll be back in Peachtree Cove later today.”
The last part was more for Joanne than Tracey. She didn’t keep up with her brother’s schedule like that, but she appreci ated the way he so casually told Joanne about his day. She’d felt like she was pulling teeth to get any information out of Bernard about what he was working on or where he had to go. More and more she realized how much he’d made her feel clingy or needy over wanting basic information.
“I’ll be here late with Tracey,” Joanne told him as she started working on the back of Tracey’s head again.
“Alright now, getting all cute again,” Devante teased.
Tracey tried to glare at her brother, but there was no heat in her gaze. “I’ve always been cute.”
“Facts. Hey, I heard you cussed out Ms. Simpson at old boy’s wedding the other day.”
Tracey rolled her eyes. “Ain’t nobody cuss her out. I told her to mind her own damn business. She said I was wrong and not acting ladylike when Monique tried to play me for a fool the other night at A Couple of Beers.”
“No she didn’t,” Joanne gasped. “That woman is always in everybody’s business.”
“You know she’s going to go and tell everyone that you cussed her out,” her brother said sounding concerned. “I know you don’t like people talking about you.”
Tracey lifted a shoulder. “You know what? I don’t care anymore. The people in this town talked about me when I acted right and when I acted up. If they’re going to keep my name in their mouth no matter what I do, I might as well do what I want.”
Her brother held out a fist. “That’s what I’ve been telling you since we were kids.”
She bumped his fist with hers. “I’m finally listening. No more fake-ass nice Tracey. This Tracey is ready to take over the world.”
***
Two days later, Tracey unveiled her new hairdo to Imani and Halle. They’d agreed to go with her to Atlanta and help her pick out some new clothes. Tracey hadn’t purchased new clothes in a long time. She mostly wore her Fresh Place Inn shirt and a pair of slacks every day. On her days off, she threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt or some other top in her closet. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten dressed up for anything. Not the simple dresses she occasionally wore for a wedding at the inn, but dressed up in something really nice for a night out. Bernard had been busy taking out his mistress instead of her, and outside of the occasional Peachtree Cove Business Guild meeting, she didn’t have a social life.
Both Imani and Halle exclaimed with delight when they arrived at the inn to pick Tracey up.
“Oh my God, Tracey! You look amazing!” Halle said. She reached out and immediately touched Tracey’s hair. “I’ve got to touch it, don’t hate me.”
“Girl, you’re fine. You can touch my hair,” she said to her friend.
“It does look good,” Imani agreed. “I love the color!”
Tracey beamed at her friends’ acceptance. She’d liked her hair when Joanne finished but had to get used to looking different. The ease of getting up and shaking out her hair each morning with the same freedom she’d had with the braids was worth the day she’d spent in Joanne’s chair getting the micro locs.
“I always wanted red hair,” she said. “I was just afraid to make the jump.”
“Well, girl, I’m glad you jumped,” Imani said. “It looks great.”
“Thank you. Now to find some clothes that match my new hair.”
Halle nodded. “Most definitely. I’ve got us covered.” She pulled out her phone and opened up an app. “Last night I looked up the best clothing styles for your figure and then researched some of the best boutiques and stores with the brands perfect for you. I’ve already mapped out which ones to visit first and located a place to eat lunch.”
Tracey blinked then laughed. “Damn, Halle, sometimes I forget you’re a middle school principal, and then you do something like this.”
Halle shrugged and slid her phone back in her purse. “Hey, I plan the best and most organized field trips in the district. Those skills translate.”
Imani clapped her hands and grinned. “Then, let’s get to it.”
They piled into Tracey’s car and took the two-hour drive to Atlanta. The conversation flowed easily as the three friends chatted about work, Halle’s daughter Shania, and Imani’s plans for her wedding. She was having it at The Fresh Place Inn late that fall. A small affair that Tracey was happy to host for her friend. Her marriage was over, and the idea of ever being in love again made her stomach twist in knots, but nothing would make her hate on her friend’s happiness.
Halle’s scheduling skills proved true to their word. She had them at the first store right on time. They went inside and Halle helped Tracey pick out clothes with the precision of a drill sergeant. Tracey admittedly didn’t know much about fashion. Her breasts seemed to have developed overnight in middle school, garnering attention from young boys and dirty older men. Instead of being viewed like her mom, she’d always opted for clothes that were larger to hide her figure. Something she’d kept up with even during her marriage.
When Tracey came out of the dressing room in a pair of jeans she’d thought fit well, she was surprised when Halle threw up her hands and groaned.
“Tracey, if you don’t stop coming out here in those big-ass pants I’m going to scream.”
Tracey frowned and looked down at the jeans. They were not baggy and fit her without being constraining. “What? These are smaller than the last ones.”
Imani shook her head. “They’re too big for you.”
“No, they aren’t. I’ve been the same size for years. These are my size.”
Halle stood up and marched over to Tracey. She jerked on the waistband of the jeans then stuck her arm inside. Tracey yelped and tried to pull back, but Halle didn’t move.
“What are you doing?”
Halle looked back at Imani. “Look at this. I can fit my entire arm in these jeans.”
Imani laughed and nodded. “That is your whole arm.”
Halle jerked her arm back and gave Tracey a knowing look. “Now, sit here and tell me that these jeans fit.”
Tracey tried to glare, but Halle didn’t back down. “I don’t want them too tight.”
Imani walked over. “Tight and fitting are two different things. Stop hiding that ass and those boobs. Some people pay good money to have what you’ve got.” Imani shifted her own smaller breasts.
“Exactly,” Halle chimed in. She placed her hands on her ample hips. “Do you see me hiding behind big clothes? And I’ve got more curves than you. Your figure is perfect and sexy. Show it.”
Sighing, Tracey ran a hand over her stomach and hips before looking at her friends. “I haven’t felt sexy in a long time.”
“Well, now is the time to start,” Imani said.
Tracey cringed then admitted to her friends, “I don’t know how. Like, for real. I always tried to not be sexy. I didn’t want to be compared to my mom, so I don’t know what to do. That’s with my clothes and with myself. I can’t even remember the last time I had an orgasm.”
“What?” Halle asked, stunned.
Imani frowned. “With Bernard, or by yourself?”
“Both,” Tracey said with a shrug. “I stopped masturbating because Bernard didn’t like it.”
“Why wouldn’t he like it?” Halle asked sounding even more confused than before. “TMI alert, but Quinton loves to watch me.”
Tracey glanced away, embarrassed to talk about it, but also slightly in awe that Halle would do that in front of Quinton. She’d never talked about the awkward moments in her bedroom before. She’d thought not being satisfied was better than searching for something different that would lead to her cheating on her husband.
There wasn’t anyone else in the dressing room, so she spoke in a rush. “He caught me one time. Early in our marriage. He got really mad. He said he’s responsible for making me come and nobody else. I felt like I’d done something wrong and stopped.”
“Wait a second,” Halle said and held up a finger. “He got mad about you masturbating and then didn’t even make you come?”
Tracey nodded. “Basically.”
Imani wrapped an arm around Tracey’s shoulder. “Don’t feel bad. I’ve heard about the same thing from patients of mine. There’s nothing wrong with masturbating. In fact, doing so helps you figure out what you like so that you can orgasm with a partner. If you want, I know a sex therapist I can recommend.”
Tracey pulled back. “That may be too much.” She hadn’t orgasmed, but she wasn’t in need of sex therapy.
Imani looked at her with comforting, steady eyes. “If he’s been telling you what you should and shouldn’t like for years, then maybe it isn’t. You might not want to start with therapy, but you have to figure out how to feel sexy again. Because you are sexy, Tracey. But until you begin to feel that way, it won’t matter what we say.”
“I don’t know.”
Halle bumped Tracey’s shoulder. “Didn’t you say you were going to try new things? This is your time to find out New Tracey. You can start by masturbating again.”
Tracey wanted to change the subject, but not talking about how she felt had gotten her nothing. She remembered how embarrassed she’d been when Bernard had scolded her for daring to touch herself. The way she’d denied her own pleasure and tried to always ensure he was happy. She wanted to feel sexy without being shamed or afraid that being sexy would make people think she was two steps from sleeping with any man who looked her way. Honestly, she did need to talk about and figure out what it was she liked.
Who cares what people think, remember?
Sighing, Tracey nodded and smiled at her friends. “Fine, I’ll start.”
Halle grabbed her cell phone. “And I’m going to update the schedule. After you try on a pair of jeans that actually fit, we’re going to eat lunch and then we’re going to the sex store.”
Tracey’s eyes widened and she laughed. “The what? Why?”
“Because if you’re going to learn what you like, you’re going to need some toys.”