Chapter Twenty-One #2
When we enter her kitchen where she’s set up a shampoo bowl, she gives me the five-star treatment. She puts on some lo-fi hip-hop and then proceeds to sit my ass down like it’s a professional shop.
It feels good having her hand in my scalp. Admittedly, the detoxing, two rounds of shampooing and rinsing, and ringing out my hair lulls me to sleep.
She pours something else in the front of my hair and sits in my lap, which makes me sit right up.
“What’s that?” I ask, not really caring because I like this seating arrangement.
“A hydrating shampoo. Just wanna get some moisture back in your hair after cleansing it.” She’s very focused, massaging the shampoo deep into my scalp.
I run my hands up the back of her legs.
“Stoppp, I’m busy.”
“But I’m your favorite client,” I pout.
“No, that would be Evie.”
I tickle her some more until she fights me to stay still.
After my hair is thoroughly washed, she sets me down between her legs so she can start the retwist.
I’m used to being the one caring for everyone. I’m not used to being catered to like this. Even if she never gives me forever, I’m so grateful to have even a fraction of this woman’s affection.
She slathers some gel on the back of her hand and takes out one of her small-tooth combs.
“Where did you learn how to do this?” I ask, impressed.
She smirks. “Just because I personally always choose a forty-inch buss down doesn’t mean I’m not capable of other things.”
I smack my own forehead. “Of course, how dumb of me.”
She chuckles as she turns my head the way she needs it, clipping my locs into sections.
“When I first started modeling, I got fucked over a lot when it came to my hair and makeup. I learned how to do it all myself, so I’d be prepared in case they sent me to someone who didn’t know what the hell to do with my complexion and hair texture.
And then I found that I really enjoyed it, so I kept learning from stylists I met over the years.
Now, I really only do Evie’s hair when she asks. So consider yourself blessed.”
“Oh, believe me, I know I am.”
She licks her lips and ignores me in favor of focusing on my hair. She works in silence for a bit before speaking again. “You went to the support group today, right? How did it go?”
“It was really good. It was nice to get some new perspectives.” I tell her about my conversation with Helena while she works on my head.
“I’m happy it worked out.”
“Thank you for finding it for me. It really means a lot.” I pull away from her grasp on my hair so I can face her. I want her to see my sincerity. Going to this group is going to do wonders for my relationship with Bailey, and Dani deserves all the credit for it.
She drops her head bashfully. “That is something you never have to thank me for.”
“Okay, then, let me thank you for my appointment at the Salon of Dani.” I press against her knees so I can raise myself up to reach her lips.
She presses her lips together and scoots back. “Um, sir, I don’t know what kind of establishment you think I run here, but I accept tips in cash, not dick.”
I lay my head against her breasts, enjoying the jerky rise and fall I know is coming from her amusement. “Aww, damn. I forgot my wallet.”
She raises her finger to point to the door. “Get out.”
Laughing, I take out my wallet and pull out a stack of cash to wave in front of her.
Before I realize it, she snatches the stack out of my hand and shoves it down her shirt.
She pops me on the shoulder with her comb, then makes a twisting motion with her fingers.
“Well, come on and turn around. I got other appointments today.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” I salute as I pocket my now lighter wallet and sit back down.
“How is therapy going?” I ask once she gets in the groove of twisting and palm-rolling each loc.
“Things with the Goode doctor are going well. I … uh, I told her about Nigel during our last session.”
“You did?”
She smacks me with the comb again. “You always wanna look somebody in their eyes, stay still!”
I burst out laughing. “Sorry.”
“Mhm. Anyway, yes, I did. She wanted to know where my mantra came from.”
Not wanting to get hit again, I keep facing forward despite my need to see her face.
My fists clench involuntarily. I hate hearing about Nigel.
I want to destroy him for all the pain he’s caused Dani.
Rip him limb from limb until he’s unrecognizable to anyone who has had the misfortune of knowing him.
“And how did that conversation go?” I don’t want to pry into her therapy sessions, but I do want her to know I’m here to listen to anything she wants to share.
“Better than I was expecting. She basically said I use the words ‘I’m fine’ as a crutch to force myself to be okay when I’m not. And I know she’s right. So, we talked about maybe trying out other mantras when I feel … a moment coming on.”
“And you’re open to that?”
“That’s why I said the conversation was better than I was expecting. I actually am. I think my mantra started off being helpful and then it ended up doing more harm than good. So, we’ll see.”
I’m extremely proud of both of us for putting in the work to become better versions of ourselves. My ultimate wish for us is that our growth waters the roots of the trees we planted long ago, so that our branches may bloom in a way that leaves us inextricably linked.
When she’s done with my retwist, she sets me under the dryer and disappears to call Nisha about something.
The heat and the lack of sleep from last night start to take their toll on me and my eyes begin to close against my will.
The clear vision of a future with this woman upon every long blink is what makes me give in to the temptation.