Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
Sister Sledge and the Frenchie
…A few days later
R oman sat in his office looking diligently over several spreadsheets across three desktop computers. Soft jazz music played as he concentrated on the material. His stressful job as an Associate gave him the money, prestige and trust he so wanted in life, but due to his ‘get the gold’ attitude, he left little room for downtime as of late. He picked up his phone and called one of his clients. The voicemail came on.
“Good morning, Mr. Peterson. This is Roman Wilde from Goldman Sachs.” Roman leaned back in his burgundy leather chair and slowly spun from side to side while twirling a fancy silver pen between his fingers. “I’ve handled your account since February third. Prior to that, Rashad Abdullah was your former contact. We’ve spoken a half a dozen times here and there, mostly while you were traveling on business in Japan. I understand that you are now back in Houston, per your assistant. I would like to discuss your account variations and updates in person soon, perhaps over lunch, but I’ve sent over the latest analytics. If you have any questions regardin’ the updates, please feel free to give me a call. I’ll be happy to address any inquiries that you may have. Regards.”
He disconnected the call and began work on a different account. Not five minutes had passed before his personal cellphone rang. He looked at the Caller-ID and snatched the device off his desk.
“Hey, man. Thanks for calling me back.” He regarded the dentist’s business card that was lying on his desk, partially hidden under a glass of cold Canada Dry Selzer water.
“Hey, Romey Rome. What’s up, brother? Tooth better?”
“Yeah, Tony, that’s what I wanted to discuss with you. I know that you’re out of town right now, but I have a follow-up visit with your dentist after work today. I need to ask you something.”
“Yeah, of course. You sound serious. That’s not like you. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, but I want to be considerate. So, uh, your sister… Question for you. Is Genesis married, or seeing anyone?” Roman took a taste of his coffee and waited for the other shoe to drop.
“You motherfucker!” Tony screamed into the phone. “You sneaky, no-good son of a bitch.”
“Huh? What?! It’s just a question.” Roman placed his cup of coffee down onto his desk. He couldn’t say he was surprised by Tony’s response, but he’d been hoping for a better reaction.
“It’s just a question my ass, man. You’re always cooking something up. You were probably salivating like a dog once you saw her!”
“No, that’s not true… I noticed her, yeah, but it was what she said that sealed the deal for me. I like her conversation.”
“Her conversation? You mean her ass. When have you ever gave a shit about a woman’s personality or gift of gab? Love ’em and leave ’em, Roman? This is crazy, because after I sent you her way, for a split second, I thought about you probably trying to hit on her. She gets hit on all the time at her job. But then I said, ‘NAAHHHH! My boy wouldn’t do me like that!’ I’m surprised that you’d cross this line.”
“If she gets hit on all the time, which means other men can see how beautiful and captivating she is, why are you surprised?”
“There you go with that smartass mouth…I should knock another one of your teeth out. You are the player of all players, and if you think I’m going to let yo’ gigolo ass seduce my sister, you’ve got another thing coming. Let’s not even talk about all the shit we did while in the Marines. I know you didn’t forget that night when we fucked the same girl, at the same time. Wild shit! I can’t have you wit’ my sister, man!”
“Gigolo?” Roman cackled. “Who uses that term anymore? Am I a jive turkey, too? As far as the threesome, we were young and drinkin’ heavily that night.”
“…It happened twice . Two different months!”
“Anyway, all that matters, is that that was in the past. I’m your friend. I wouldn’t do anything to try and hurt your sister. I’m just interested in her and me going out.”
“Going out to the hotel, you mean.”
“Hotel? My bedroom is just fine,” he joked.
“You ain’t shit, Roman!” Tony burst out laughing, but Roman could tell he was truly concerned.
“I’m just kidding, but all jokes aside, man, it’s not like I’m tryna marry her! Just go out for a drink or something.”
“Roman, don’t play dumb. The end goal for you is always sex. You’re trying to fuck my little sister and vanish, like you do all the other women that come your way. Here I was, trying to help your snaggle-toothed ass in your time of need, and you—”
“I’m not snaggle-toothed.”
“ANYWAY! I tried to help you, and you turned this into Tinder. This ain’t no dating app. Don’t try to get friendly with Genesis, man.”
“I didn’t have to tell you any thing. This was a courtesy call.” He took another taste of his coffee.
“Oh, really? You’re not her type anyway.” It was hard to hear him over the sudden clanking noise in the background, as if Tony were at a busy restaurant.
“And how in the hell would you know what her type is? Did y’all sit around recently in your pink silk pajamas, braiding each other’s hair and painting your toenails, discussing all the cute boys you like while eating popcorn and listening to slow jams on a YouTube playlist?”
“Because I just do , fucker. She likes the Lebron James types.” He could hear the smirk in his friend’s tone.
“Okay, well, that sounds a lot like me then. I’m her type after all.”
“How in the hell are you anything like Lebron James?!” Tony chuckled.
“He’s tall. I’m tall. He can play ball. I can play ball, too, though it’s not my favorite activity in the world. Regardless, I’m not so bad. He’s got money. I’ve got money. In about ten years, I might have a receding hairline, too. So, what’s the difference besides him being Black and me being White?”
“I ain’t never seen her date a White guy before, but that’s not really the point. We’re boys. Brothers from another mother. Roman, you know this is inappropriate. You know you’re wrong, or you wouldn’t have even called me and asked me to call you back about this.”
“No, like I said, it was a courtesy. I don’t ask permission from any damn body on who I am datin’, but since you’re my friend and we go way back, I thought it would be only fair.” He heard Tony huff on the other end. At this point, he imagined his friend would try to swing on him if they were face to face. “Where is it written that I can’t date my friend’s sister, man? If anything, you’d want her to—”
“JUST STOP IT! You know this is forbidden territory. Totally off-limits—and fuck you and this courtesy bullshit. You ain’t doin’ me no favors. This was selfish, and all about you . I will fuck yo’ ass up, Roman. If this were reversed, you wouldn’t like it, either.”
“I don’t have any sisters and you’re married, but if you weren’t married and I had a sister, I would have no problems with you dating her.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m serious.”
“My sister is very special to me, man. I can’t have you messing with her. She’s a really sweet person, but she’s also not a fool. She’s not like these dingbats you’re used to runnin’ game on.”
“Well then, if she’d not a fool or dingbat, why don’t you let her make the choice for herself? All this rage could be for nothing.” He shrugged. He saw an email notification pop up about a meeting he had later in the afternoon. “If I’m not her type, she’ll turn me down for a date, and that’ll be the end of it. The best part, it would be her choice, and not her big brother tryna run her life. She’s grown. And you’re right. We are brothers. That’s another reason why I would never do somethin’ to her that would make you want to put my head on a platter. There’s no reason why we should be beefing about this. It’s not that serious.”
He was met with a lot of heavy breathing, and then, silence.
“Of all the girls in Houston, man…” Tony sounded defeated. “You’re greedy, man. You’ve always been greedy. You see something you want, and you just snatch it… the hell with everyone else. Roman, I take family seriously. I know that your family is all fucked up, but mine isn’t.”
He flinched at the words. “That was a low blow. Glad I don’t have thin skin.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s true. I didn’t have a parent with substance abuse problems, mommy issues, or a crazy, corrupt, rich grandfather who ran the whole damn city, and all that shit. Genesis is used to normalcy, not chaos.”
“So, because of my family’s challenges, I’m a fuck-up, too? I think I’ve done very well for someone who does in fact come from the background you described, because the odds were against me.”
“You have, but—”
“Just say it. You think I’m beneath y’all, don’t you?” He was met with silence. “You think you’re better than me, man? That I’m some Wallstreet lookin’ guy who’s just a White trash thug beneath the business degrees, suits and ties?” More silence. “You know what?” He laughed dismally. “Don’t worry about answering. You not saying anything is the answer.”
“Roman, that’s not what I mean. I’m saying—”
“Tony, I understand you not wanting your sister treated badly. Who would? But this conversation has shed light on waaaay more than I think you intended it to.”
“This is what you do. Make up shit to try and manipulate things when they’re not going your way.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with manipulation or shit not going my way, Tony. It has to do with me realizing that one of my best friends in this whole fucked up world secretly thinks I’m not worth a damn. You’re not better than me.” He felt ice spreading through his gut. “Who gave you the loan to start your coffee shop when the banks refused because your credit was so gotdamn bad? IT WAS ME! The fuck up. Who was it that drove all the way to California in a piece of shit car to pick you up when you had no way to get back home for your grandma’s funeral? ME! The greedy Black Sheep, as you say. You must’ve forgotten that I know about your past, too. We were black sheep, TOGETHER. Genesis is used to normalcy? With a brother like you?! I find that hard to believe.”
“You weren’t in my house, motherfucker. You don’t know.”
“Was you bein’ a car thief normal?! Or how about when you beat that dude’s face in for stealing your hat back in bootcamp? I kept your secrets, and you kept mine. You ain’t no choir boy. You think I’ve forgotten? You’re not a mothafuckin’ priest, and your family is far from perfect.”
“Never said that I was, ’cause I damn sure won’t forgive you and offer some Hail Mary’s if you do this. I promise you that our friendship will be over if you cross this line. I can’t believe you even considered this. Let’s say y’all hit it off, and things are going well, and then you have a change of heart, break her heart and leave her after she falls for you. I can’t still be friends with you. I can’t do that.”
“I tried to do the right thing by coming to you first. I wish I hadn’t now. I’m not the only one that crossed a line today. You used my past, and my family problems, which I have absolutely no control over, against me. I told you that shit because I trusted you. That won’t happen again. Looks like school is in session. Lesson learned.”
“You’re right. I’m just… surprised. Mad. I’m sorry.” He heard Tony take a deep breath. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt her… you’re not that type of person. I still don’t want you to do this. It’s not that you’re not a good guy, but let’s be real… when have you ever had a long-term relationship, Roman?”
“What are you talking about? I’ve had several long-term relationships.”
“One that lasted past a year. You’ve cheated on most of your girlfriends. You say that it would just be drinks, but I don’t believe that. I think my sister would end up as one of your conquests, not because you’d want her to be, but you just can’t help yourself. You don’t trust people, man… You don’t trust your heart with women. That’s why you act out.”
Tony had never said those words to him, and the fact that his father had just said the same exact thing a few days prior made his blood pound in his veins. The coincidence was eerie. Disturbing. Haunting. He’d never considered such a thing until it was placed at his feet. Was it true? It had to have been… because it hurt. It hurt so much, he’d blocked out an entire childhood memory: One where he’d said some of the most horrible things that a child could utter to their mother. The guilt must’ve been too much to bear.
He thumbed his fingers along his desk, regaining his composure. “Our friendship means more to me than this bullshit right here. Alright… fine. I won’t ask her out, Tony.”
“Thank you.”
They talked about getting together soon, then said their goodbyes. He called his assistant right afterwards.
“Erica, I have a dental appointment today, but I won’t be gone long.”
“Yes, I saw it on your calendar. I’ll forward any emergency calls to Benjamin while you’re out.”
“Great. Thank you.”
He shut down his computers, tidied up his desk, and headed back to the dentist for a follow-up examination. It wasn’t long before he was escorted from the lobby into the exam room. A different hygienist was assisting him. She was attractive, short, with long light blond hair. He was relieved and upset about this all at once.
“So, yeah, it looks good to me, too. I’ll have the dentist talk to you in about three minutes.”
“Okay, thanks.” He sat there listening to Billie Eilish’s, ‘BIRDS OF A FEATHER.’
“Heeeeey, you!” came a sweet voice.
He turned his head, causing the paper bib around his neck to ruffle. He swallowed. There stood Genesis in bright yellow scrubs with little oranges for buttons. Her hair was in braids, pinned up in some sort of updo.
“Hey, Genesis. How are you?”
“Good…good.” She stepped in the room, her tablet in hand. “Your tooth all good?”
“Well, I haven’t seen the dentist yet, but I think so. It’s not given me any problems.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
“Your hair looks nice.” He looked her over and felt a bit hotter at the sight of her.
“Thank you.” She curved her glossy lips, exposing beautiful teeth. “I just got these braids, but I wish they were smaller and a little shorter. I wanted to save money but regret it now. I’m going to get them taken out tonight after work and try something different. Maybe some Goddess braids. I know you don’t know what that is,” she giggled, “but trust me, they are pretty. I need to wait until Friday though to get them in. I’ll just wear a ponytail until the weekend.”
“Friday is—”
“Payday. These braiders ain’t cheap.” She laughed. “Well, you take care.” She exhaled. “I guess I better get going.”
She stood there. He sat there. They stared at one another. He didn’t want her to leave. To walk away from him. She didn’t seem to want to go, either.
“Genesis.”
“Roman.”
They said each other’s names at the same time, then both laughed at that.
“Ladies first.”
“Okay.” Her complexion deepened, and she rocked back and forth on her white Croc shoes.
“So… I might be misreading you, the signals and all, and if I am, or you have someone, I’m sorry, but… would you like to get lunch or dinner one day next week?”
THIS IS brILLIANT! I didn’t ask her out. She asked ME! Promise to Tony kept, and I get my way! He pressed his hands together as if he were praying, and in a sense he was. “You just saved my life, and my brotherhood.”
“Huh?” She cocked her head to the side in confusion.
“Nothing.” He chuckled. “Long story. So, you’re asking me out?”
“Yeah. Is that too forward?” she stated a bit shyly, though he had a feeling it was all a front. This woman didn’t have a timid bone in her body.
“No, it’s not too forward. I’d love to have lunch or dinner with you.”
“Okay, great. I—”
Just then, the dentist walked in.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Wilde. Nice to see you again.”
“Afternoon, Doctor. Genesis, we can—”
“Don’t worry. Enjoy your visit. I’ll get your information from up front. Have a good day!” She skedaddled away before he had a chance to respond…
The sounds of Saweetie’s, ‘Is It the Way’ played through pulsing speakers as Genesis entered the braiding shop. Ropes of hair were scattered all over the floor as if the linoleum was wearing a fur coat. Red, blue, straight, curly and ombre hair hung for display by large mirrors and framed posters of models sporting the latest looks. Her usual braider, Awa, was nowhere in sight.
“Hi, can I help you?” A Senegalese woman with a rich accent approached wearing a wraparound brown skirt and white top.
“Hi, how are you? My name is Genesis. Is Awa here? She usually does my hair. I’ve been coming to her on and off for two years.”
“Oh, she’s not here today. Sorry. What do you need?”
“I just wanted a take-down but was going to come back in a few days for maybe some Goddess braids.”
“Ahh, I see. So, usually we do take down and new braids same day.”
“Right, but I just need them taken out today. I could do it myself, but it would take forever, and last time I did it myself, I accidentally cut some of my own hair off.”
“’Kay. Hold on, okay? Let me see. I will call her. If she doesn’t answer, I will text her and get her price since you’re her customer.”
Genesis nodded. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”
She took a seat towards the front of the busy shop, then picked up one of the crinkled hair magazines and flipped through it, reviewing the various braided styles. Other customers sat around in worn-out chairs, many of them on their phones as one to three African braiders worked their magic on their tresses. She bobbed her head to the music as she turned the pages of the magazine, a few styles catching her eye. The African women were speaking French amongst each other. After a few minutes, she stood to try and get their attention for the price of the service she wanted, and to figure out when they could start. She began to approach the two women closest to her when she heard one of the women say, “ Ils sont tellement ingrats et stupides. De toute facon, elle a de cheveux horribles. Faites-la payer plus pour tous ces ennuis. Je veux allez rentrer chez moi et me détendre devant la télévision.”
Huh? Did they just call a customer stupid and ungrateful? Said they had horrible hair? Not just that, they were suggesting they charge her more money because, as one of them said, she wanted to go home and watch television. Mothafuckas.
The women burst out laughing. Genesis checked out the customer in the chair whom they were referring to—horrified. The African American woman was completely oblivious, as shown by her smiling down at her phone as she scanned her social media feed.
Suddenly, one of the women hooked eyes with hers.
“Oh, can I help you?”
“Yes, the other woman who greeted me when I first came in said she would give me a price for how much a take-down would cost. Is she the manager?”
“Fatou? Yes. She’s in the back. Fatou!” The main culprit who’d been talking shit called out. The two women who’d been gossiping looked at one another and burst out laughing again, as if the joke was ongoing. “ Regardez-la, debout là, voulant qu’on l’enlève ses tresses. Trop paresseuse pour les sortir elle-même. Les femmes américaines sont gatées. Elle est jolie, okay, mais paresseuse. Probablement, elle veux le tissage blond pour ressembler à une femme blanche. ”
Look at her standing there wanting her braids removed, she’d said. Genesis fumed. Too lazy to take them out myself, huh? American women are spoiled? At least she called me pretty, not just lazy. And no, bitch, I won’t want blonde weave to look like a White woman.
The other woman responded, commenting on her uniform, pegging her for a nurse. At least she had recognized her from past appointments, said Genesis was nice and that she tipped well.
The complaining bitch, however, was not convinced. She thought we were all ‘the same’. “ Ils sont tous pareils. Intitulé. Fatou! Customer! ” Entitled, even.
Fatou came from behind a curtain, her phone in hand.
“Hi, sorry about that, Genesis. It’s Genesis, yes?”
“Yes. That’s my name.” A fire burned in her soul. She fisted her hands and swallowed venom.
“Since you’re coming back, we will give you a deal. Thirty dollars. Is that fine?”
“Okay, that sounds fair, but I won’t be able to stay and have it done tonight after all.”
The woman looked at her confused.
“Why? You just said that you wanted a take-down. I called Awa for you.”
Boiling with indignation, Genesis proceeded to let them have it.
“Okay, since you are the manager, you need to tell these women to be kind and respectful to their customers.” The two women who had been talking shit in French gasped. “How dare they stand here and talk horribly about this customer’s hair, and then accuse me of being lazy and wishing to be a White woman? Y’all are disrespectful as hell!”
Genesis turned to the culprits.
“ Et oui, je parle couramment l’espagnol et le francais, et grace à moi et à mes ancêtres, vous êtes tous ici capables de travailler. Ce sent mes ancêtres qui ont ouvert la voie pendant que vous nous regardez de haut.”
Yeah, my ancestors had paved the way for these women to seek a better life, and this is how they talk about us? I’d be damned if they touched my hair after what I’d heard. I’d just go directly to Awa because she’d given me her personal number long ago. I’ll tell her what happened here because I will never step foot in this damn place again!
“ Je ne veux pas que vous touchiez mes cheveux. Je vais appeler Awa moi-même, puisqu’elle m’a donné son numéro personnel il y a longtemps, et lui raconter ce qui s’est passé ici aujourd’hui, puisque c’est la dernière fois que je mets les pieds dans cet endroit! Maintenant, rentre chez toi et regarde la télévision comme tu l’as dit. Tournez-vous vers PBS pour pouvoir réellement apprendre quelque chose.”
She had to rally all her willpower to not reach out and slap the woman across the face. Let them go home and watch TV, hopefully PBS so they could possibly learn something.
Fatou placed her hand to her face, then glowered at the two women, a furious expression taking over. The customer who sat in her chair seemed utterly confused.
“Honey, don’t come back here after today. These two women, especially this one right here, whose long ass face is shaped like an uneven loaf of bread, had the nerve to be talkin’ slick about somebody’s appearance. She was just saying how bad your hair is, as if there is something wrong with being a Black woman with natural hair, all the while accusing me of probably wanting to be a White woman. So, which is it?!” Genesis turned back to the woman in red. “Do you love Black hair, or hate it? Are you proud to be Black or not? Pick a struggle! You can’t hate having to do kinky, 4C hair and call it bad, all the while accusing someone else of wanting hair that is like a White woman’s. Insinuating that that type of hair is better! Make it make sense!”
“Wait a minute.” The customer set her phone on her lap. “You understood what they were sayin’? They were talking about me?!”
“Oh yes, honey. They were talking about you, all right. I know French quite well. My best friend when I was a little kid was from Cameroon. She was an immigrant and didn’t know anything about America when she first came here. Beautiful person. Another friend of mine was from Cuba. I helped them both learn English, and they returned the favor. I took French in high school, too. Never forgot it. This heffa was ready to smile in your face, and then take your hard-earned money. Oh, not only is your hair bad, honey, we’re both apparently lazy, too, but she’s the one standing here talkin’ about wanting to go home and watch TV. I work my ass off, and if I want to pay someone to take my hair down, then I will!” Genesis sucked her teeth and looked the woman in red up and down—and she still appeared speechless.
The customer jerked her head away from the braiders and proceeded to curse them out. Genesis stormed out during the tirade, her entire body shaking with anger. As soon as she got in the car, her phone buzzed. Ignoring it, she started up her car and drove off.
“…Got me fucked up. Don’t they know people have translators and stuff on their phones now? This isn’t 2001! You can’t just be up in here talking trash about your customers in your native tongue, unprovoked, I might add! If someone that speaks multiple languages isn’t there, the technology will show your true colors either way.”
When she reached a red light, she saw that she had a notification for a CashApp deposit, but didn’t know what it was for, or who it was from. As the light turned green, her phone rang. It was Awa…
“Hello, Awa.”
The conversation went as she imagined. Awa was apologizing left and right for her colleagues.
“…And I am embarrassed. I don’t treat my customers like that. She’s new, and I don’t know her that well, but I apologize for her. I didn’t know you spoke French, but it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t have happened. Fatou told me all about it. She is angry. Very angry. Several customers got up and left. This is so awful, Genesis.”
Awa sounded downright pitiful, and her apology was certainly heartfelt. The woman was always professional, and never treated her with anything less than respect. Even when Awa spoke in French, she never said anything rude about the customers.
“Awa, it’s not your fault. I know not everyone is like that. You and I have a good relationship, and you’ve never even tried to overcharge me, or take advantage. I would prefer to just come to your apartment and get my hair done from here on out, please. I’m not going back to that shop.”
Awa agreed and let her decide to come Friday after work, even offering a discount for the trouble. She hung up and reached another red light. Glancing down at her phone, she saw the notification for the CashApp still flashing.
Confused, she opened the app to see what it was for.
$500? What is this for? This must be a mistake. Who sent me $500?
She opened the transaction details to read further. There was a note along with the payment:
I don’t know what Goddess braids are or how much they cost, but I want you to get some today, since that’s what you want. If this isn’t enough, let me know and I’ll send more money as soon as you respond. Life is short. Do what makes you happy TODAY. We’re not promised Friday’s payday, or a lunch date that I’m very much looking forward to, and we sure aren’t promised tomorrow, either. Send me a picture when your hair is finished. I’d love to see it. I know you’ll look beautiful.
— Roman