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Authors: Tracy Brown

BOOK: Twisted
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He clicked the message button and typed away: “Hello, stranger. This is how I have to find you? You can't keep in touch no more? I miss you. Shit ain't the same since you left. Get at me.”
Ishmael clicked “send” and sat back. He hoped she didn't take long to answer him, and he also hoped that Rah-lo hadn't gotten to her first this time.
 
 
If It Don't Fit, Don't Force It
R
ah-lo watched Sherry stroll naked over to the bathroom. She turned on the shower and stepped inside. Once she was out of sight, he lay back against the pillows and exhaled. Sherry was one of his favorite pastimes, and now that he was no longer with Asia, he was enjoying even more time with her. It had been four days since he walked out on his wife, and in that time he had been holed up at Sherry's crib. He didn't know what Neo would do in retaliation for Rah-lo pulling his gun on him. And Rah-lo wanted a break from Asia. He had turned his cell phone off and only checked his voice messages periodically in order to make sure that nothing was wrong with his children. They were all he cared about. He was finished with Asia, and he
didn't care about how business was going. He needed some time to himself, away from the drama in his marriage and his responsibilities in the street. He knew that Ishmael would handle business. Right now, all Rah-lo was concerned about handling was Sherry. She had a perfect body and a gorgeous face. His only complaint was that she talked too fucking much. She was a real chatterbox and Rah-lo now found himself feeling anxious for her to disappear.
He reached over to the nightstand and picked up his pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, he sat up in bed and took a long drag. He had started to second-guess himself. Although he had no regrets about leaving his wife, he missed his daughters terribly. He had been ignoring Asia's phone calls and each time she left a voice message more profanity laden than the last. He knew that if he went over there or even called he would have to deal with Asia's bullshit. And he was in no mood for that.
As Sherry exited the shower, Rah-lo realized that he was in no mood for her, either. She had good pussy, but that was about it. True to form, she started talking almost as soon as her foot hit the bath mat.
“Don't you think we should go out and get something to eat? You're not with Asia anymore, so there's no point in us sitting cooped up in this house all day. I was thinking we should go to the new—”
“Nah,” Rah-lo cut her off. “You should go to get some food while I go get my head together. I'm gonna go home,” he said, sitting up in bed and reaching for his clothes. “I need
some time to myself. I'll call you tomorrow.” His tone was very clipped and matter-of-fact and Sherry looked momentarily stunned. She regained her composure, not wanting to turn him off by whining or appearing overly sensitive.
“Oh,” she managed. “Okay then. I'll call you tomorrow.”
Rah-lo exhaled some more of his Newport. “No,” he said. “I'll call you when I get ready.” He didn't mean to be rude to Sherry. She wasn't a bad person. She just wasn't the one for him. All she was to him was a way to pass his idle time, and he didn't want her to think differently now that he was separated from Asia. “I'm not trying to play you or nothing, sweetheart,” he explained. “But I just left my wife, and I got a lot of shit on my mind. I appreciate you keeping my mind off it for a little while, but now I gotta face reality and there's a bunch of shit I need to handle. Don't take it personal.”
Sherry shrugged as she put on her clothes. “I'm not taking it personal. It's all good,” she lied. She felt as if she'd been dismissed, and she didn't like it one bit. “Call me when you handle all your shit.” Rah-lo got dressed and left her house, and Sherry was pissed that he hadn't even bothered to kiss her good-bye.
Rah-lo didn't give a damn whether she was upset or not. He was finished with her for now, and she just had to get over it. He shook his head, wondering why women had to be so complicated all the time. Every one of them seemed to be overly emotional and incredibly needy and demanding. Well, almost every one of them.
Celeste had been the only woman he'd ever encountered who didn't stress him for anything. Celeste hadn't made demands; she'd made suggestions. She hadn't craved his attention constantly, which only made him more eager to give her his undivided attention whenever he could. She had seemed to understand him both as a man and as an individual, and she had fallen into step with him perfectly. He loved that—and so much more—about her. He had thought about her constantly over the four years since she'd left him. And after his argument with Asia he had thought about Celeste even more. In some ways, Asia had been right. He did often silently compare Asia to Celeste. He just couldn't help noticing that she had been as good for him and to him as any woman could ever possibly be. He wished that Celeste had been more patient. She would have been pleased to find out that he had finally left his wife. But Celeste was long gone, and his heart still ached for her despite him telling it not to. He drove to his new bachelor pad, figuring it was time for him to move on with his life. Celeste had left him and now he had left Asia. Both relationships were over, he reminded himself. No more living in the past.
 
 
Robin walked into the shop and right into the midst of a heated debate.
“Good! Robin's here!” Lauren yelled, happy to have their resident intellect present to weigh in on their latest topic of discussion. “Do you think they should have fired
that guy? What's his name?” Lauren waved her hand as if willing the man's name to pop back into her head.
“Don Imus,” Dimitri offered.
“Yeah, that's him! Do you think they should've fired him for calling those basketball players nappy-headed hos?”
Robin slipped out of her jacket and hung it on the coatrack. She smiled. “Okay, first of all, good morning, everybody.”
Everyone greeted her (except for Charly, who was standing in the back of the salon shampooing a client and pretending not to have heard Robin's greeting).
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lauren said impatiently. “Answer the question.”
Robin walked to her station and began to tie on her cape. “I think he was wrong.”
“Thank you!” Lauren yelled. “I told you they were right to fire his ass!”
Robin shook her head. “You didn't let me finish.”
“Exactly,” Dimitri said sarcastically. “So
desperate
for a cosigner!”
Lauren waved her hand at Dimitri and waited for Robin to finish her thought.
“I think he was wrong. He always says foul things on the air about pretty much every ethnic group. But what makes him different from Howard Stern? What about all the rappers who use the same language in their songs and make millions? Where are all the outraged black activists when a
rapper shows up to an awards show with black women on leashes, or when one of them swipes a credit card down the crack of a black woman's ass in a video? It's a double standard. We think it's okay that we use the ‘n' word, or that we call each other bitches and hos. But if a white person does it, we're ready to kill somebody. If we don't want to be referred to that way, we shouldn't refer to ourselves that way.”
“Amen!” Miss Pat called out. She had her head in the sink, but she was still engrossed in the conversation. As a woman of a certain age, she was tired of hearing the foul language young black people were using in music and in their everyday conversations. “You're a very smart young lady, Robin.
Ow!!
” she yelled. Charly was washing Miss Pat's hair, and just as she cosigned on what Robin had said, the water mysteriously turned scalding hot.
“Sorry,” Charly said halfheartedly. But she wasn't. Charly had changed the water temperature in order to shut Miss Pat the fuck up. Charly hated that everyone made Robin feel like she was a genius. True, Robin was doing well in college and had learned a lot in the course of her education. But the bitch wasn't a prodigy or anything.
Lauren wasn't satisfied with Robin's answer. “Okay,” she said. “But you still didn't say whether or not you thought he should be fired.”
Robin called her client over to her chair and sighed. “No,” she said, knowing that her answer was going to spark another debate. “I don't think they should have fired him.”
“Thank you!” Dimitri said triumphantly. “That's what I've been trying to tell these ignorant heifers in here all morning. Why would you fire him for that when you got people on the air who say worse shit than that every day?” He shook his head in disgust.
Lauren frowned and stood with her hands on her hips. “You're crazy! That man is a racist. What did them girls do to make him classify them as hos? They weren't out there dropping it like it's hot. They acted like athletes, not hos.”
Robin nodded in agreement. “You're right. He was dead wrong. But ‘ho' is a term that black people use. White people say ‘whore.' So he obviously heard the term ‘ho' from somebody black, and then he used it to describe a predominantly black group of women. But my point is that the term wouldn't be commonly associated with black people if we would stop using it to describe one another.”
Charly was going to be sick. “Robin, how can you blame black people for what he said? He said it because he felt like that's all black women are—nappy—headed hos.”
Robin started to defend her position, but Charly cut her off.
“His ass should have been fired. Period.” Charly led Miss Pat to the dryer and adjusted the settings. “I'm going to the store. I'll be back in a few minutes.”
On her way out, Charly eyed Robin. Robin smiled at Charly, knowing that she wasn't really upset about Robin's stance on the Don Imus situation. Charly was heated about
Robin's visit from Ishmael. Ever since he had come into the salon to see Robin, she had been dying to know what was going on. But she had too much pride to ask. Instead, she had sulked around the shop for days and made evil eyes at Robin. It made her happy just knowing that Charly was so clearly jealous. Robin knew that Charly would be even more upset if she knew that Robin had spent an evening with Ishmael at his secret apartment. Their lovemaking had been intense and almost violently passionate. And she couldn't get it off her mind.
As the salon conversation turned to whether or not Jay-Z would ever marry Beyoncé, Charly left and headed for the store. She zipped her jacket up a little higher, amazed by the cold fifty-degree weather New York City was having in April. It was supposed to be warm, she thought. But a chill was in the air and she shivered a little. She thought about something Robin had talked about called global warming. Charly thought that maybe that was one of Robin's rants that may have made some sense. Charly walked to the bodega on the corner and was at the counter purchasing a VitaWater and a pack of Altoids when in walked Nina Lords.
Charly smirked as Nina rolled her eyes at her and walked on by. The two of them had gotten into their share of battles as coworkers at Dime Piece back in the day. And for some reason Nina still harbored resentment toward Charly. True, Charly had been intimate with Ishmael years ago. But that had been long ago, and Charly felt that Nina needed to
get over it. After all, Nina was the one who had walked away with the prize—Ishmael.
Charly paid for her items and lingered at the counter, pretending to put her change into her wallet. Nina approached, prepared to pay for her snacks, and saw Charly standing there. She rolled her eyes again and placed her items up on the counter as if Charly weren't even there.
Charly stood within inches of her, smiling provokingly. “Hi, Nina.”
Charly waited for a response but got none. Nina handed the store clerk a twenty-dollar bill and waited for her change, wishing Charly would disappear. No such luck.
“Damn,” Charly said. “You can't even speak?” Charly shook her head as Nina turned to leave. She stood in Nina's way, blocking her exit with a wicked smile plastered across her face. “I saw Ishmael the other day.”
Nina's jaw clenched visibly. She looked Charly dead in the eye, warning her silently to go away. Still, that last statement had piqued Nina's interest. “And?”
Charly was still grinning. “And nothing. He came to my shop, actually. I was surprised to see him there because—”
“He came to
your
shop?” Nina was frowning now. Ishmael knew better than to step foot in that shop. He had slept with both Charly and Robin back in the day. He had to know that Nina wouldn't approve of that shit.
Charly couldn't be happier. “Yeah. Like I said, I was surprised, too. I even told him, ‘This is Charly's beauty salon,
not Nappy Nina's.' He laughed when I said that. But he wasn't there to see me. He came in to see Robin.” Charly grinned ever so slightly, pleased with herself for baiting Nina this way.
Nina was vexed. “Robin?”
Charly nodded. “He waited until she was done with her client and then they left together. She came back about two hours later.” Charly was exaggerating. But she was so enjoying the changing expressions on Nina's face that she couldn't resist fucking with her. “Is everything okay with you two?” she asked. “You two didn't break up or anything, did you?”
Nina glared at Charly, knowing that she was antagonizing her. Charly knew damn well that Nina and Ishmael were still together. This was one of the things she hated most about Charly. “No. We didn't break up. And I'm sure Ishmael and Robin didn't do anything wrong.”

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