Chapter 12
“What the fuck was that about?” Svyn asked, placing a box in his trunk.
Markus shrugged one shoulder and chuckled to himself. He was confused yet amused all at the same time. “You know Nia likes doing charity. I guess she went out and hired a mute.”
Svyn offered Markus an amused smirk. “A mute? ‘Cause she ain’t say more than fifteen words to you?”
“Thirteen. I counted,” Markus stated, sliding into the passenger seat.
Svyn snickered. “What a change. You step on the scene and these bitches can’t shut the fuck up.”
“They love Money. Clearly she ain’t from around here, she didn’t even look at me,” Markus said, making Svyn laugh as he pulled off from the curb.
“You hell, boy. We on the brink of a street war and you’re confused that some girl ain’t talking to you.”
Markus relaxed in the seat and grumbled. “Nia talking to you?”
“We both know Nia doesn’t talk, Nia shouts and cusses.
And no,” Svyn shared. Whatever space this was he was in with Nia was his to navigate.
It was the only part of this life that wasn’t exposed to the brutal world around them.
Regardless of how she appeared to everyone around them, whatever they had was his to keep.
Markus grunted. His mind lingering on Reign longer than it needed to.
It was a handful of things – her avoidant gaze, the fading bruises over her face, her distance, the way her body flinched when he made a sudden movement.
Then there was the lack of engagement. She studied him, not in a lustful way, but as if she were looking for an inkling of safety.
Trust even. No she wasn’t from Majestic Heights.
No he didn’t have space in his world right now to figure her out. Yes, none of that mattered.
Close to thirty minutes later, they were pulling up to a shop still full of clients.
From the curb, Markus and Svyn could see Nia fussing and two other stylists running around trying to get the remaining clients in and out.
The two shared a look before getting out and retrieving the things she said she needed and walked in.
“An hour ago,” Nia huffed, taking the box from Svyn. “I needed this an hour ago. Do you know how long it takes to do color?”
“I’ll assume longer than you’ve had that fuckin’ attitude,” Markus huffed. “Where all these people come from?”
“Your little girlfriend fucked us again. The three stylists who were actually worth a fuck, she took with her.”
Markus curled his lip. “Considering she don’t have nowhere to go without me, where the fuck she take them?”
Nia ripped the box open and huffed. “Shit, this isn’t what I need. I’ll go get it tomorrow.”
“Have the mute girl bring it. How much are we paying her anyway? Is she even talkin’ to people for real?” Markus asked, causing his sister to stop rifling through the box to cut him a sharp look.
“Are you stupid every day of the week? You have to refuse to be a dumbass,” Nia huffed. “Of course she speaks, goofy.”
“Ain’t say more than thirteen words to me,” Markus stated, the interaction still at the front of his mind. It was a distraction he couldn’t afford. He grimaced. “What the fuck happened to Fawn?”
“You touched her on her inside parts,” Nia sarcastically huffed as she walked away, the box under her arm.
Markus followed. “First of all, don’t be putting my business out like that. If I fuck with someone, they know how to keep that shit low.”
“None of the bitches you put your little dick in know how to keep shit low. They think it gives them a pass to be fuckin’ mediocre.
Fawn told the girl she didn’t fit the vibe therefore we weren’t hiring.
All the while, the store was getting robbed by three teenage girls and some old bitch who couldn’t afford edge control.
And let’s not point out the obvious – Neveah.
Not just mediocre and useless, she’s costing me money daily.
I have a whole shop I can’t make money out of because of you. ”
“Me?!” Markus asked, pointing to himself. “I didn’t tell that bitch to be a fuckin’ hoe and fuck with a bottom of the barrel ass nigga.”
“And you didn’t tell her not to. What kind of pussy did she have to make you turn a blind eye to her bullshit?” Nia challenged, stopping to look up at her brother. “How high are you?”
“I’m not fuckin’ high, I’m in pain,” Markus corrected.
“How many pills do you have left?” she asked, glaring into his eyes.
“A couple. That ain’t why I’m here.” Markus pulled out the money from the hair shop and handed it over. “We never made this much off that spot in a day.”
“Not too bad for a mute huh?” Nia sassed, taking the money out of his hand and roaming to the safe. “You need to slow down, Money.”
“I got control of it. I told you it’s just until this shit heals.”
Nia grunted, placing her hands on her hips and looking at him. “You say that until some shit pops off and it becomes a crutch. You know how this ends.”
“I ain’t that nigga,” Markus objected.
Nia looked her brother over. She didn’t remember much about her parents, but she remembered major things – her father’s anger, her mother’s screams and the bruises after every fight.
“You starting to look like him. You can’t be that nigga.
You can’t lead these niggas if you high off your own shit, Money. ”
He swiped his hands down his face and groaned, the motion alone reminding him that his shoulder was still healing. “I hear you, Nia. I said I got it, I got it. Don’t I always?”
“I don’t know. Right now, I don’t trust your track record. Maybe I’ll have more hope if you keep your dick away from my girls. In control, right now? No. And you need to get in control. One bad move, all of this is up in flames.”
“I heard you. I’ll be back tomorrow to get your shit,” Markus stated before turning around.
“On time? Be on time. I have an early morning of full books,” Nia replied, watching her brother’s back move away.
The weight on Markus’s shoulders had always sat like a boulder.
It shaped the way he thought, the way he moved.
But as of late, the pressure of the boulder seemed impossible to carry.
Unaware of the impending storm set to further mold him.
He sat in the passenger seat in pain, eyes closed, Nia’s words dancing in his mind along with all the other things he’d never put words too.
Parting ways with Svyn, he roamed into the house and looked around. Silent, empty and cold. There was no love here. No laughter from his boys. Nothing screamed home, love, nor safety. He’d never even looked for it. There was a void. Something else he needed besides ruling the streets.
“Fuck,” he blew. The thoughts becoming too loud, the words off Nia’s lips too true. “I ain’t looking like that nigga.”
His grumble echoed through the emptiness of the house.
Neveah’s presence gone as if she’d never even filled a corner of this space.
Everything outside of the streets and his family had been a void filler.
Meaningless things taking up sacred space.
The anger housing his demons turning him more and more into the man he hated.
He dropped down onto the couch and pulled the pill bottle out of his pocket. Two to take the edge off and one to put him to sleep so the noise he’d been able to ignore all this time could go silent.
Morning came in with a wickedness, ripping sleep from his being and filling it with reminder. Markus groaned, lifting his head from the arm of the chair. The stiffness in his body accompanied by the knocking against the front door, caused his head to pound more.
“I’m comin’,” he grunted, getting up off of the couch.
At the door, Svyn wearing a scowl. “B and Angel need their asses fuckin’ beat, you know that?”
Markus groaned, turning away from the door. “They still grumbling and bitching about being out on the blocks?”
“That and fuckin’ up the traps like they never had to hustle out of one. I almost put Brantley’s ass through a fucking wall. Anyway, I’m dropping this off for you to take to Nia. I can’t deal with them and her in one day.”
Markus nodded. “Good lookin’ out.”
Svyn buzzed. “You sleep, nigga?”
“Barely,” Markus admitted. “House too fuckin’ quiet.”
Svyn said nothing, just grunted, handing him the box with Nia’s supplies for both sets of clients. “That shit you on don’t make it quieter either.”
“You gon’ hop on me too?” Markus semi-snapped.
Svyn shook his head with a slight frown. “You know that ain’t my style. Just know I see you, nigga, and you look like shit. If you nice to Nia, she might cut your nappy ass head.”
Markus subconsciously ran his hand atop his hair and face. He frowned when Svyn started laughing. “Fuck you, nigga, you have her cut your hair.”
Svyn’s laughter grew louder. “So she can fuck up my shit? Nah, I’ll stick to Smitty on Lennox. Get yourself together, we got shit to do, Money.”
“Yeah aight,” Markus huffed, dropping the box by the door and closing it.
A shower, sweatsuit, skully and a blunt later, he was headed out of his house, strapped and on his way to Nia’s salon.
It was no surprise when he got there that Nia was actively in the middle of another hair crisis.
Sure that was noticeable and none of his business but what seemed to capture his attention more was Reign stocking the supply shelf with the color Nia needed the night before.
He nodded in her direction, earning him nothing but Reign’s inability not to step in and help Nia.
“You’re literally burning her hair off,” Nia grunted toward the stylist.
“I’ve done this a million times,” the stylist justified. “Her hair just isn’t made for this.”
“If she isn’t above a haircut, it can be neutralized and styled,” Reign spoke up quietly.
It was soft, paced, and assuring. Markus hadn’t heard her cadence.
That voice that flowed from her timid being served as serum for his soul.
Foreign but oh so needed. It cemented him.
He placed the box in her office in the faux wall and positioned himself between the supply room and salon floor.
Nia looked at the client in the mirror. The client, an older woman with flawless brown skin ignored her current stylist and peered at Reign.
“Can you fix it?” she quizzed. The way she pierced her brows together it was evident that the stylist she booked would never touch her hair again.
Reign paused and looked at Nia. “I-I ca-”
“She can,” Nia interjected. “Ms. Jayne, I’ll comp your service today.”
“Well then…” Ms. Jayne paused, looking at Reign awaiting her name.
“Reign,” she spoke softly.
“Reign, let’s see what you can do. My hair hasn’t been short since I met my husband, maybe something new will make him look at me again,” Ms. Jayne stated.
Reign was clearly nervous but lit up just enough at the opportunity. “Are you okay with a finger wave style. I can probably highlight it after I see how much damage was done from the relaxer. If not, in six weeks we can revisit your color.”
“Do your thing. You got a twinkle in your eyes like you know what you’re doing.”
That comment made Reign smile just a little. Markus found himself stuck, watching her movements as she walked Ms. Jayne to the shampoo bowl. From the bowl to the dryer she stayed with her client every step of the way before leaving her to deep condition for another thirty minutes.
Back to the supply room, Reign ignored Markus and looked at Nia.
“I don’t have a license. This could get you shut down,” Reign shared. “I’m not trying to cause trouble or find it.”
Nia smirked. “I’ll figure out your license situation. Ms. Jayne don’t like nobody in her hair. Not even me. She likes you. She’s here every Tuesday. Consider this a trial period.”
Reign chewed on her lip and bounced her leg.
“How you just gon’ offer her a position and not run it by me?” Markus quizzed.
Sure his methods of wanting to be in her space were abrupt and annoying to the women for their own separate reasons, but he couldn’t help himself. Something he didn’t have the time or space for but he sensed Reign was the balm he needed.
Reign refused to even look in his direction.
“Because, Money, you handle the shit out there, I handle the shit in here,” Nia stated. “Why are you here? Like what’s the reason? I don’t need you here.”
“I need a haircut,” he stated, roaming from the supply room to the chair Ms. Jayne previously held. “If she can cut my hair, she can be here.”
Reign cut him a look before fixing her face as if Markus would say something about it.
“You get on my damn nerves. Get off of them, please,” Nia huffed. “Reign, he’s more bark than he is bite. At least in here. If you nick his ass, I won’t say shit about it.”
With that, Nia turned on the balls of her feet and went back to handling her clients. Reign schooled her features and went over to the booth, inspected the clippers and look down at the skully atop his head.
“Cap,” Reign spoke.
Markus looked at her through the mirror.
Bruises lighter today, the small cut above her top lip slightly smaller too.
Niggas who put their hands on women deserved to be pushing up daisies.
It was evident that light had been stolen from her.
Maybe it was his own brokenness that was drawn to her.
That alone was dangerous. He didn’t need a trauma bond.
He’d had several. More than enough to last him and leave him with nothing meaningful behind.
“Nia gets full sentences and I get one word, again?” he posed, poking at her just to see if he could chip away at her walls. If not for nothing else, something to do.
Reign shot him an undercut of her eyes. “Cap.”
Markus chuckled and pulled it off. Upon seeing the ringlets of neglected hair he could hear her buzz. “I wash it with body wash. All in one shit.”
Reign squinted and started her work on his hair.
Her touch, though minimal, felt like he needed it.
Comforting. Thirty minutes later, a haircut and trim of his beard and mustache, Reign dusted the cape off and stepped away.
Markus stood, not bothering to look at himself but at her. She didn’t look up at him, but around.
He peeled a few crisp hundred dollar bills off the knot of cash and handed to her.
Reign refused to take it, leaving him to nod and place it on her workstation.
One final glance of her and a lopsided smirk, he proceeded toward the back of the salon, the same way he entered in.
In his car, he pulled down the mirror and smirked at his reflection, then cursed.
“Gotdamn, we don’t have time for this shit.”