Juicy (13 page)

His Dad gave him a steady look. “No. I have no concerns. That money is yours. It’s always been yours. And if you want it you can take every penny of it.” He gave a pointed look to the others sitting around the table.

“Dad-” Bob began. His father raised an annoyed hand to cut off his comments.

“A long time ago, my son wrote me a three page letter telling me everything that he needed, and everything that he wanted. I ignored what he said because I had my own idea of what he needed and what he should have. I won’t make that mistake again. It’s Troy’s money. He can do with it whatever he pleases.”

“Even if he gives it to some black girl named Juicy?” Bob asked angrily.

Troy’s lips began to twitch. He dropped his silverware on the table and it clanged loudly. “That’s what you’re concerned with, that a black woman might get her hands on my money?”

Bob looked embarrassed and glanced at Lorie for support. Lorie threw up her palms as if to say that he was on his own for putting his foot into his mouth.

“It’s just that your decisions haven’t always been all that great-”

Troy’s jaw clenched. “How do you know, Bob? Tell me how you would have any ideas about my decision making skills?” Lorie’s husband stood and ushered his children away from the table and Mom placed a hand on Troy’s arm.

He ignored it and continued. “Tell me, Bob, how would you survive the winter if you just got let go from your last fast food job because you stuttered so much that you couldn’t take an order—and you’re down to your last fourteen dollars, it’s winter and your choices are A. suck a dick,” His mother gasped and covered her ears. “B. Go to a shelter, or C. Go home to Mom and Dad?”

Bob didn’t answer. “Oh come on Bob, the clock is ticking!” He spat angrily. “Let’s hear your great decision making skills!” People in the restaurant were beginning to take notice of them.

Bob looked down quietly and then finally met his younger brother’s stare. “You made a bad decision in the first place by leaving. You should have stayed home, and if you found yourself in a situation like that then you should have immediately come back-”

“BONG! Wrong answer, brother. Because if I had gone home I would have committed suicide inside of a year!”

Bob’s mouth gaped open.

Troy stood slowly and looked around quietly. “Don’t even venture to second guess the decisions that I’ve had to live with throughout my life. Sorry for creating a scene. I’ll be in the car.”

Mom and Dad returned to the car shortly after him and no one mentioned the incident at the restaurant. He didn’t see Lorie and her family or Bob and his. He stared out of the car window grimly. Can families argue and have disagreements and still love each other? He didn’t know. But he hoped that his brother would always love him because he would always love both of his siblings.

They drove straight to the bank where his father transferred every cent of the fifty-two thousand three hundred twenty-two dollars and seventeen cents into his account. Troy gave them a wide-eyed look.

“Interest.” His father winked at him. Then he pulled his son into his arms. “Don’t be mad at your brother. He loves you Troy. And sometimes people don’t know how to separate love from possessiveness.” He released him slowly and Troy nodded.

When they got back to the house Bob was there alone, waiting. Dad did not want to leave his two sons alone but he knew that whatever issues they had to work out, then it had to be done at all costs. He went down into the family room while the two brothers sat in the living room.

Bob cleared his throat. “Are you going back home?”

“Yes. Pretty soon.”

“I see.” Bob rubbed the slight goatee growing on his chin. “Troy…when you were on the streets, did you—did you ever have to suck a dick?” Bob’s face turned bright red.

Troy’s lips turned up at the corners into a soft grin. “No, bro. I didn’t ever suck a dick.”

“Oh thank god…” He gushed.

“You know, Bob, with this money, I won’t ever have to go back to the streets again. And I’ll be living life on my own terms.”

He nodded. “I do get that. It’s hard not to see you as my baby brother.”

“I know.” Bob looked away. “So…you would have…”

Troy knew the rest of that question. “Yes, I would have. Because I couldn’t feel what lay beneath all of the other stuff that medication heaped on top of me. I couldn’t get to my real feelings. Does that make sense?”

Bob nodded sadly. “I’m so sorry, Troy, that I didn’t hear you.”

“I am too; sorry that I ran off and never came back--that I never realized that as I’ve grown, so had you all.”

Bob nodded. “This lady of yours, you’ll bring her home to meet us all?”

He nodded happily. “Yes I will.”

CHAPTER 9

Troy took the bus back to Cincinnati, Ohio and a tight pressure in his chest released when he stepped into the apartment and R & B music was playing over the radio and even though it was closing in on midnight, animated voices could be heard in Juicy’s back room. He opened the door and Juicy dropped the hot comb on the floor and whooped loudly, crashing past one of her customers, bumping a rolling table containing hair potions and sending them scattering onto the floor, only to finally slam herself into Troy’s outstretched arms.

“Mmmm,” he groaned as he lifted her from the floor and spun her into a slow circle before depositing her back to her feet. They kissed for so long that several people cleared their throats and finally Miss Jackie threatened to make a video and sell it to a porn site.

Juicy released him with a glassy-eyed look.

“Damn.” Jackie said. She got up and collected her things. “I’ll be back in the morning. I know what that look means and I ain’t going to have you burning up my neck because you’re trying to rush so you can ‘get some’.”

The woman sitting in the chair patted her unfinished curls. “Yeah, never mind. Ya’ll two go on and take care of ya’ll business. I’ll just sleep pretty tonight and you can finish me up in the morning.”

Everyone cleared out of the apartment and Troy raised his brows suggestively. The two raced to the bedroom.

***

Now that Troy had the money, they found that there was no need for a loan. However, getting the shop together was not easy, not by a long shot. They did all of the labor themselves; painting, hooking up water lines, repairing electrical. The majority of the money could then be used to pay for the equipment and material. Troy knew a lot of people who knew a little bit about a lot of things; electricians, plumbers, dry wall etc. The city streets held a cornucopia of able bodied homeless.

Juicy had found the right area for her shop. It was in the city, not much further then where she’d grown up. She hadn’t been back in the old neighborhood in years, but somehow it felt right that this was the place where her dreams would come true.

She thought about Momma and she thought about Felix as she stared at the rundown building. On one side of the small building was a failing gym. The other was a second hand clothing store, but she smiled lovingly at what was all hers and Troy’s.

She amended that. “No. This is for all of us.” And that included Momma and Felix.

Troy had been in charge of inspecting the building and he said that this one was good. The foundation was solid, there was no mold so no hidden water damage, no termites and the nearby shops kept it safe from hidden predators. He grinned and gave her the thumbs up. Later he approached the city with a request to purchase it for a dollar even though it had not been posted for sale. However, once the city’s inspector’s had shown evidence that the building had been used for drug activities, it was given the ok to sale. They had one year to rehab it. They did it in four months.

Juicy would not be surprised on days when she would enter the building, while it was being rehabbed, to see several homeless men--including her own, sleeping there because they had pulled an all-nighter. She would stare at them with thankful admiration, knowing that she would never see these people in the same light again.

One day Juicy and Troy stood in front of a building. Stenciled across the window was the words JUICY’S HOUSE OF HAIR. She squeezed Troy’s hand.

“You’ve made my dreams come true…” she whispered, her eyes stayed glued to her shop; their shop. Troy was just staring at her.

“Me too.”

Juicy looked at him and smiled.

***

The shop was opened and Juicy had all of her booths rented to some of the best stylists in the city--who then drew in a steady flow of customers. Now, a month later, she was still improving on the pretty little shop. It was pristine, with satiny lavender walls and purple sinks with matching purple chairs. The lounge had comfortable seating and a wall mounted flat panel television. The local R & B radio channel stayed on, playing softly in the background, piped in by hidden speakers. The restroom had two stalls because she intended to have many customers.

Troy was a surprising contributor to the success of the shop. He found that he really enjoyed baking and he had continued his tradition of making homemade brownies, cookies and muffins to take down to the shop for the customers. They had stopped referring to him as 'white man' or 'white boy', and had now given him the nickname of 'candy man'. Troy was unsure of which name he disliked more.
At least he no longer got nervous whenever he walked into the shop and all conversation stopped as if he was the 'Po Po'. He had garnered a grudging respect, if for no other reason than that he wasn't afraid to sit and watch Juicy do her magic on her customers...and the baked goods didn’t hurt.

He stepped into the shop on one pretty spring day holding his carton filled to almost overflowing with baked goods. Juicy had just given him a nice haircut and it was that unruly chaotic look that came from staying up all night or from paying loads of money to a good hair stylist. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that advertised a chain hardware store, yet he looked super sexy.

The ladies, most of which were much older than him, would never admit aloud that they would jump into bed with him, even if he was white and nervous. They got up and hurried to the large carton almost before he had put it down, not wanting to miss out on their own personal favorites. Once the baked goods were gone, there wouldn’t be any more until the next day.

“Candyman, you didn’t bake those double chocolate chip muffins today?”

“No ma’ame. But I do have chocolate chunk chocolate cookies.” He handed a brown paper sack to another woman. “Here Miss Vernetta. These are the dozen butter cookies that you wanted.” The older black woman gave him a smile and then reached into her cleavage for her change purse. She handed him three dollars.

“Thank you, Baby.” She patted his hand.

He shoved the money into his pocket and looked around. “Now if anyone wants me to bake them something specific, write your order down and give it to Juicy. I’ll be here by eight am each day. And I’m sorry, but I can’t make any more chess pies for free because it cost too much.”

There was some grumbling but people were happy with the free pastries that they were eating.

“Ya’ll should start serving free coffee.”

Troy walked from the reception area and into the salon carrying a small lunch box. He gave Juicy a quick kiss. She paused in the act of brushing cream relaxer onto someone’s hair to press her lips to his.

“I’m going to put your lunch in the office.”

“What is it?”

“Meatloaf.”

A woman in another chair looked from Juicy to Troy. “Your man brings your lunch?”

Juicy looked at the woman. “He does lots of things for me…and vice versa.”

“Ooo, I bet!” Someone hooted.

“Ain’t he a little on the young side?” The nosey woman asked. Juicy noted that she was staring after him with just a little too much attention. Hmph! She knew for a fact that Troy wouldn’t know what to do with a scrawny woman.

“He’s older than eighteen, if you must know.” He was all of twenty-five. She was thirty-one, and while that did not make her and old woman, it was a big difference in age to her. Still, the difference in age was the last thing that she focused on, especially when there was so much about him that she loved.

Troy returned from the office, face a little red. He didn’t like when they started talking about him, even if it was just playful. For the most part, everyone liked him, though.

He kissed her. “Bye, Juice. Don’t work too late.” All eyes were on them so he quickly left.

“Damn,” the same woman commented while giving his ass another admiring look. “I should go out and get me a white man.”

“Not all man come that good; white or black.” Miss Vernetta spoke while munching on a butter cookie.” Juicy gave her a surprised yet thankful look.

***

“Juice?”

“Hmmm?”

For once, they weren’t slaving in the shop. They were actually in the living room, snuggled up on the couch covered by blankets with a bowl of popcorn between them. They were watching a DVD movie. TV gave him headaches but he didn’t say anything to Juicy. She needed to relax. She worked way too much. And he was just happy that she didn’t have to be doing hair. He’d even sit through this terrible martial arts movie if it meant that’d she’d be still for a few hours.