Chapter 14
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 needed. The steady buzz of business filled the air, making the music barely audible.
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 or backtalking her.
My first two hours blew by in a blur of gossip, buzzing hairdryers, nail drills, and ringing phones. 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’s 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 in a sense.
Watching the women create magic in each chair fascinated me.
From straightening and braiding to cutting and curling, there was so much to do with Black-American hair I admired more and more.
It made me think of home, of my mother’s best friend Joyce and the many ways she could style her locs—even to the point of taking the long strands and managing to effortlessly place them under a wig when she was dressing up as a celebrity for a costume party.
“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.
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 a murky night sky to a 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?”
“Nothin’ else to do,” I said.
He glanced at the ceiling and back to me. “Wanna head up to the roof and do homework?”
Immediately my gaze cut to where his mother hadn’t stopped watching us, unsure. Gone was her easy spirit and little joy at Dreux’s arrival, completely replaced with a steely guard.
“Um, can I go on break?” I was brave enough to stare her in her eye, to take whatever response she gave me.
Angela’s attention swung from Dreux to me, her hesitation palpable. In the end, grudgingly, she said, “Go ahead.”
Dreux was oblivious to his mother’s coldness as he gathered my books for me.
“I got it,” I told him.
But this was Dreux, he collected my things anyway.
Nervously, I tucked some hair behind my ears, sweeping a glance to the left of me to the women in the room. Some were back to work. Ms. Josephine was offering me a gentle smile and a nod of approval, while Angela’s eyes were on Dreux as he handled my books.
I followed Dreux out of the salon and over to his car where he grabbed his school bag. He held on to my things as he led me over to the barbershop. Inside, a football game was on and the couple barbers around weren’t paying it no mind as they argued over something loudly.
“Get outta here with that shit, Rick!” one man with a clean, bald scalp said as he lined up some boy in his chair.
The officer in the room, Rick St. Julien, smirked, easing back in one of the chairs that lined the length of the wall on the waiting side. “I’m tellin’ you, it’s either draft Williamson, or bring in Banks. We do that and the Falcons gettin’ a ring next year.”
Another barber, one who was simply seated in his chair, wasn’t convinced. “Banks ain’t comin’ to no Atlanta. I don’t know what you talkin’ ’bout.”
Dreux cast a look back at me. “This is all they talk about.”
All at once the men in the room turned our way, noticing us—me.
Rick St. Julien was older than Dreux, but you couldn’t tell by his youthful appearance.
Whereas Dreux was tall, with toffee-brown skin, and a strong build from his baseball games, Rick was tall, slim, and brown skinned.
He was the third St. Julien male I’d met, and it was safe to say that their gene pool was a force to be reckoned with, as all the men were good-looking.
Dreux pointed to the barber with the client, Antwon, and to the one in the chair, Grady, and finally to his cousin, Rick.
Each man lifted a hand to greet me or nodded in acknowledgment.
“We’re just going up to the roof to study,” Dreux informed the men as he cut down the center of the room, leaving me to follow his lead.
Antwon’s lips curled, his gaze sliding over to Rick. “What y’all studying, anatomy?”
Rick snorted and shook his head, staying out of it.
Dreux was cringing, but still, he took one look at me and another at Antwon. “Maybe if you got new material, a sense of style, and, I don’t know, maybe some chivalry, you wouldn’t spend your Friday nights alone, ’Twon.”
Grady had to cover his mouth to hide his chortling, while Rick made no effort to stop himself from blatantly laughing at Antwon’s expense.
Put on the spot or not, Antwon took the insult on the chin as he chuckled himself. “Easy.”
At the other end of the room, toward the back door, Dreux cut a corner and opened a door that held a staircase leading up.
Dreux led me all the way up the steps, stopping to collect a colorful duffle bag, before opening up access to the roof.
Once outside, the Georgian sun graced us in full-force.
I watched as Dreux tilted his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, basking in the sun’s rays.
Rays that loved him as they poured down all over his handsome features. He was practically glowing.
Dreux unzipped the duffle and pulled out a blanket. He found a spot to his liking and spread it out and set his things down along with mine.
“You mind music?” Dreux asked with his phone in hand. “I know some people can’t function with noise, but I like a soundtrack.”
I shrugged. “It’s okay.”
Dreux’s fingers glided across his screen and soon music was playing, filling the space between us.
He got down on the thick colorful striped blanket and dug into his bookbag for a notebook and a textbook.
Dreux soon sat cross-legged, going and scribbling some essay for what looked like an English assignment.
For a while I watched him, simply existing, admittedly mesmerized by the sight of him.
Dreux had to be the most peaceful person I knew. Calm personified.
I let go and sat down, eyeing my own books and not feeling up to the task of buckling down like Dreux was.
The nice day all around us mixed with Dreux’s soundtrack were too distracting.
“What is this?” I wondered.
Dreux kept writing, not even bothering to check his music as he said, “Fleetwood Mac.”
The name sounded familiar, definitely an older band I’d heard referenced somewhere before.
I went and laid on my back, soaking in the lyrics as some woman sang about silver springs. It wasn’t too deep into the song that I realized I liked the sound and the band. “This is amazing.”
Homework could wait, in that moment, all I cared about was becoming better acquainted with Fleetwood Mac.
Their lyrics washed over me in melodic waves, taking me under their majestic sea.
Some songs, were sung by a woman, others by a man—all of them were fantastic.
The harmonies, the instruments, that classic sound packed into each record. God, I loved older music.
“Well, that’s enough of that.” Dreux came and laid beside me, facing the same blue sky I was. “Fleetwood is the shit.”
I couldn’t deny the truth in his words. “They’re honestly fucking incredible.”
Dreux nudged me. “See, when you stop listening to—”
“Stop!” I blurted out, unable to stop myself from laughing at his repeated taunting. To get him back, I grabbed his arm and peeled the beaded bracelet off his wrist and put it on.
I held up my wrist, examining the bracelet against my pale skin. The turquoise little beads reminded me of the sea. The specs of white marble reminded me of storm clouds. It was fitting really.
Call me a thief, but I wanted the bracelet. It matched me through and through. I was a storm—a hurricane, and Dreux was a calm summer breeze. It was better off with me.
“Hey.” Dreux’s hand covered my wrist.
I slipped through his grasp, sliding my hand until it was in sync with his palm. Our hands lined up, and slowly our fingers entwined. Dreux’s grip was strong, firm, and he was holding my hand. Sending a jolt right to my chest.
Whoa.
Peeking at him, I fought a smile.
He was blushing too.
Our hands lowered to the ground and he didn’t let go.
This was new for me; friend or not, I’d never held hands with a boy before. Kevin hadn’t been the affectionate type in that regard. Soft. Soft wasn’t Kevin’s demeanor. He was a more go-with-the-flow type of guy. Flowers, candy, and all that romantic stuff wasn’t his vibe.
I decided that all that cheesy shit I once wrote off as vomit-inducing and lame, actually wasn’t. It was probably really nice and endearing to be showered with affection and gifts. To have a guy give you a teddy bear. Cliché to some, but still, the idea sounded sweet suddenly.
The image of my parents in that booth came to mind and a weird fluttering erupted in my belly. I bet Scott was really sweet to my mother. Soft. Before the poison of my grandfather’s words drove him away.