Chapter 4
I snatched the wax strip off my client angrily as I thought about Beretta.
“Shit, Icelynn. You bein’ kind of rough today, ain’t you?” Carl asked as he winced in pain. His legs were spread, and his soft dick lulled to one side as I waxed the crease between his thigh and his shaft.
I glared down at him, knowing I should care that I took my anger out on him, but I found it hard at this particular moment. As far as I was concerned, all men weren’t shit.
For the sake of my business, though, I mumbled, “My bad,” before I moved over to the wax pot. I grabbed a fresh wax applicator and dipped it into the pot before I turned back to Carl. When I spread the pink wax near his ball sac, I asked, “Is it too hot?”
“Nah, it’s good.”
I nodded curtly. Thankfully, Carl wasn’t one of my talkative clients.
That was how I knew I should probably ease up on my anger and be a bit gentler, because he wouldn’t have spoken up unless something was really wrong.
I tried my best not to think about Beretta, but when I pulled the next wax strip, his shit-eating grin flashed through my mind, and I tugged roughly.
Before Carl could say anything, I muttered, “Sorry,” as I placed my hand on the spot that I just pulled from to apply pressure. It helped with the sting after having the hair pulled out.
“All good,” he mumbled. His face was screwed up, and there was a small part of me that felt bad.
He was a longtime client of mine. His career as a model kept him coming back for full body waxing, and I knew I needed to get my shit together before he stopped coming to me and told all his little model friends to find a new esthetician too.
It was silent for a beat while I laid down my next wax strip before he timidly asked, “You want to talk about it?”
My face screwed up. I made it a point not to mix in my personal business with my clients, but maybe if I spoke about it out loud, I could get the anger up out of me.
The last time I’d seen Beretta two days ago plagued my mind.
I couldn’t believe the nerve of Stephanie and how Beretta didn’t feel the need to put her ass in her place.
“Men.”
He grunted when I pulled another strip, but instead of grimacing, he grinned. “Ah. Yeah, we really ain’t shit.”
I smirked. “You get it.”
Carl looked like he was about to ask another question, but he was cut off when the bell over the front door chimed. I frowned. I didn’t have another client for thirty more minutes, right after Carl’s appointment.
“You need to go see to that?” Carl asked.
I contemplated for a second and then shook my head as I dipped a fresh wax applicator into the melted wax.
My clients knew to wait in the lobby if I wasn’t up there yet to greet them and bring them back to the private room.
If it wasn’t a client, they would quickly get the hint that nobody could help them at the moment and be on their way.
Eventually, I wanted to hire a receptionist, but for now, my little setup worked just fine.
Just after I pulled another strip, the door to the room flung open.
“Shit,” I said as I damn near jumped out of my skin. My eyes turned to slits when they fell on Beretta’s ignorant ass. “Beretta! Get the fuck out!”
Carl’s hands flung to cover his dick as he twisted to look at Beretta. “Who is this?”
I saw malice in Beretta’s gaze when he realized Carl was naked from the waist down. He took a step deeper into the room as he spoke in a deep voice. “Nah, who the fuck are you, and why yo’ dick out right now?” He looked at me. “Fuck type shit you got goin’ on here?”
“Beretta, I’m working. Get the fuck out,” I snapped as I snatched a piece of spa bed paper off the roll on the counter and placed it over Carl so he could better cover himself.
“You playin’ wit’ a nigga’s dick and call that workin’?” Beretta asked. I could practically feel steam rolling off him as he stepped further into the room, looking like he wanted to snatch me up and choke me.
And why the hell did my pussy purr at that thought? I needed some serious help.
“She wasn’t playing with my—”
Carl was cut off by Beretta, who mugged him. If he looked at me like that, I would shut the fuck up too. Beretta gave off the vibes that he shouldn’t be fucked with. Normally, I ignored those warning signs, but right now, that didn’t seem like a bright idea.
“Beretta—”
“Aye, man, I don’t wanna hear shit but why you up in here with a naked nigga.” He now stood so close to me, I could feel the head radiating off his body.
“I’m waxing him.”
Beretta’s head cocked to the side. “You waxing his nuts?”
I shrugged. “That whole area.”
Beretta stared down at me, blinking slowly, looking like he needed a moment to process what I just said.
“Maybe I should—” Carl made a move to slide off the table.
“Stay there, pretty boy,” Beretta said, pointing a finger at Carl but keeping his eyes on me. “Why you ain’t ever told me you be touchin’ on niggas’ dicks and shit every mothafuckin day?”
I stared at him like he was insane. Really, he was. “You know I wax people for a living, Beretta. I’m an esthetician.”
“Yeah, you wax eyebrows and shit. Not dicks. Maybe give a facial or some shit.” He explained it to me like I was the slow one.
I shook my head. “I do full body waxing. Now, can you leave? I have a full day and can’t fall behind.”
His jaw clenched as he waved his hand toward Carl. “Go ’head, Juicy. Do ya thang.”
“Leave.” I wanted to stomp my foot and throw this damn wax pot at his head, but I held my composure for the sake of my business. Carl for sure wouldn’t come back to me now, and I didn’t blame him.
“No.” Beretta’s jaw was set, and he spoke through clenched teeth.
“I can just come back later . . .” Carl tried once again to slide off the table, but Beretta stopped him.
“If I gotta tell ya ass one more time to stay the fuck right there, it’s gonna be a problem, my guy,” Beretta warned.
“Beretta!” I screeched. “This is my place of business. Get the fuck out!”
“Nah, Juicy. Go ’head ’bout ya business. I’m tryna see exactly what it is you do every day.”
I shook my head. I knew his ass wouldn’t leave, and since I couldn’t go upside his head like I wanted to right now, I needed to go ahead and get this service done as quickly as possible.
“I’m sorry, Carl. Do you mind?” I muttered. Rage filled me. The audacity of Beretta to come to my place of work after allowing Stephanie to fawn all over him while I was right there. I was the one who should be pissed!
“Nah, that nigga don’t mind, Juicy. Go ’head,” Beretta encouraged.
Sorry, I mouthed to Carl, who slightly shook his head as if to say it was okay. He was way too nice. If it was me, I would have knocked all this shit over and demanded a refund for this visit and all my past visits.
With a sigh, I dipped a new wax applicator into the pot before I turned back to Carl and tried to tune Beretta’s stupid ass out. I moved the spa bed paper off Carl and went to work. That didn’t last long at all. My gloved hand grazed the side of Carl’s dick as I laid down another wax strip.
“Nope! Nah. Cut the shit. Get the fuck up, Cody,” Beretta bellowed before I could pull the wax off.
“It’s Carl—” my poor client said after he jumped slightly from the bass in Beretta’s tone.
“I don’t give a fuck if it’s Debbie, nigga. Get up, put ya pants on, and get the fuck up out of here, and don’t ever come back,” Beretta snapped.
Carl hopped off the table and snatched his pants up from the side table where my clients put their clothes, phone, and anything else they brought with them.
I watched in bewilderment as Carl quickly got dressed and left the room with the wax strip still on the side of his damn dick.
Once he was gone, I reared on Beretta. “How fucking dare you! Have you lost your mind?”
“Have you lost ya mind? You over here touchin’ on another nigga’s dick while I’m standing right here. Is you coo?”
My head snapped back like he had hit me. “I’m working, and let’s not forget that stunt you pulled with Stephanie.”
“I ain’t pull no damn stunt with that girl. She came up to me, remember?”
I scoffed. “Yeah, okay.”
He pointed at me. “Nah, you got me real fucked up. And to think I came here because I missed yo’ ass.”
He turned to walk out of the room. “I know like hell you ain’t come up in here, fuck up my client’s service, and now you ’bout to leave. I just know that ain’t what’s about to happen. You just made me lose out on money, Beretta. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He looked back at me with a frown as my chest heaved. I didn’t know if I was pissed or wanted to cry. I knew I was frustrated as hell. That much I could gather. This man drove me insane, and I genuinely didn’t know what to do anymore. I felt stuck, and when I felt stuck, I tended to fuck shit up.
“Ain’t shit wrong wit’ me but knowin’ you. Ever since I met you, you got me actin’ crazy as hell, but that’s on me. Bet this shit won’t happen again.” He shook his head as he turned again.
His words stung. Tears gathered in my eyes as I watched him walk out of the room like he hadn’t just put a bruise on my damn heart.