This Can't be Life (10 page)

“Wow, breathtaking?” I asked, blushing.

“Nothing but. No one’s ever told you that before?”

“No, and I probably wouldn’t have believed them anyway.”

“So you don’t believe me?” he asked, seriously.

“To be honest, I don’t know you well enough to know if you’re just trying to flatter me or if you are being honest.”

“There’s no need to try to flatter you. It doesn’t look like you’re lacking any confidence, and I can only keep it real. But I’m sure you know that you’re beautiful.”

“That doesn’t really matter to me. I’ve never spent too much time worrying about how I look,” I replied honestly, looking at my watch. “Can I use your phone to call Simone? I know she’s worried to death right about now. I left my phone in the car…along with my keys.”

“Sure.” He handed me the phone and I dialed Simone’s hospital room number. I’d come to remember it over the last few days.

“Where are you?” Simone asked automatically, assuming it was me.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Because everybody else knows that I should be home by now,” she laughed.

“I locked my keys in the car. I’m in the hospital parking garage. Dr. Edmonds called Triple A for me, so we’re waiting for them to come and unlock the door,” I explained.

“Oooh,
we’re
waiting? So that means you’re with fine ass Dr. Edmonds right now?”

“Yeah the tow truck should be here in another 20 minutes, so I’ll be up there soon. Are you ready?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Girl, yeah, I was born ready,” she said, laughing. “I’m watching the Maury Povich show right now anyway, and it’s funny as hell. I don’t know why anyone would go on a TV show to get a paternity test for millions of people to watch.”

“I know, that show is full of drama. There’s the tow truck. I’ll be up there soon,” I said, before hanging up the phone. We got out of his truck and walked over to my car where the tow truck driver had stopped. He asked for Malachi’s card, filled out a form, and then handed it to him to sign. By the time Malachi finished reading and signing the slip, my car door was open.

“Wow, that was quick.” I was amazed. Malachi handed the man his clipboard and we thanked him as he hopped in his truck and pulled off.

“I can’t thank you enough,” I said to Malachi, after the tow truck driver hopped in his truck.

“I’m used to getting a thank you and I usually don’t care too much about someone returning a favor, but will you do one for me and let me take you out? I’m so happy that you locked your keys in your car. Inside that hospital, I’m Dr. Edmonds, but I’m happy that I got a chance to introduce you to Malachi. I would’ve never asked you out while I was working. I believe in fate and that’s exactly what this is. I’ve been mesmerized by you since I first saw you in the emergency waiting room. I hope you believe that I’m telling you the truth. Say yes, because I just spilled my guts. Oh, damn. Do you have a man? I guess I should’ve asked you that first, huh?” he said, laughing.

“Yeah, you probably should’ve asked me that first, but luckily, I don’t have a man,” I answered with a laugh.

“So, can I take you out?” he asked again.

“Why not?” I wanted to jump up, spread my arms out and do the splits in midair like cheerleaders do when their team scores.
Calm down. Calm down
, I kept repeating in my head.

I grabbed my wallet out of my purse and pulled out a business card. I wrote my home number and cell on the back and handed it to him.

“How about Sunday?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“Sunday sounds fine. Early afternoon or evening?”

“Early afternoon sounds good. How’s
2:00
and we can make it a day?”

“Sounds like fun.” I was so excited. I can’t remember the last time I felt this ecstatic over a date.

“Okay, I’ll pick you up then. Put your address on the back of your card.” He handed my card back to me and I wrote my address on the back. I was already anticipating his arrival, although a bit prematurely.

“Give me a call if you need directions.”

“I’ll call you anyway. You have a good evening,” he said, walking away.

“You, too, Malachi.” I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt so good. I would have never thought that I would be thanking God for letting me lock my keys in the car, but He sure knows what He’s doing.

“Thank you, God,” I said, looking up at the concrete ceiling. I reached inside the car, grabbed my keys off the passenger seat, closed the door, and skipped toward the elevator.

Simone

I stepped into the salon and locked the door behind me. I walked a few paces over to the black, U-shaped reception desk and took the mail out of the chrome mail holder. I noticed the light blinking on line one and wondered who could possibly be calling here this early. It was
6:00
in the morning and the only time I was able to have a few moments to myself in the salon. The last thing I was thinking about doing was answering it. Everybody knew I was here this early Wednesday through Saturday, so it could have been anyone.

I walked around the camel hued walls that separated my beauty sanctuary from the outside world. As I looked around, I felt the calm you feel when you’re on some island lying on the beach in the sand—content. I flipped on a couple of lights and again realized how blessed I was to have my childhood dream materialize exactly the way I pictured it. Throughout the salon were beautiful ferns hanging from each corner of the earth toned painted walls. Each station was black with plush, camel toned, leather salon chairs that were as comfortable as your grandfather’s recliner. Overlooking each station, were individual skylights that emanated natural light throughout the day. Hanging on the wall that served as a partition from the front entrance of the salon was a 50” flat screen LCD HDTV. It hung where it could be viewed throughout the salon.

Sanctuary was large enough to hold eight to nine stations, but I didn’t want to crowd the space. So I put in a total of six stations: two on the right side of the salon, two on the left side, and two upstairs. Six plush leather, dark chocolate recliners sat under hair dryers, which I placed back to back in the middle of the salon. The clients could either watch one of the stylists create as they sat under a lightly tinted, oblong skylight, or get manicures and pedicures by either of the two manicurists. Four black shampoo stations sat in the back of the salon against a camel hued wall near a doorless entry that lead to the pantry, two bathrooms, and my office. Up a winding staircase, my two barbers did their thing, cutting hair and entertaining their customers with a pool table and another 50” LCD HDTV, which stayed on ESPN. Two large couches were perfect for my barbers’ clients who liked to watch sports, relax, and kick back as they awaited their turn in the chair.

The whole salon could be seen from the barber’s loft. The fern entwined, chrome railing served as a safety net from a half story drop to the freshly polished bamboo floors that covered every inch of the salon. The huge floor to ceiling picture window, which was custom installed, allowed a beautifully serene, treetop view from the inside. The window was cleverly designed to mimic a mirror so, from the outside looking in, you couldn’t see through it. It afforded my clients the privacy they loved.

From the moment clients came through the front door of Sanctuary, they felt at peace. I stressed to the receptionist I hired that it starts with her. Clients should be greeted with nothing but warm smiles. That was one of the things I hated most when I worked at other salons—people that worked there had the stankest attitudes.

Once in my office, I hung my handbag on the chrome coat hanger by the door. I walked into the pantry, made myself a cup of Tazo Chai tea, and retreated to my office. I stepped around my rectangular, glass desk and plopped down on the burnt orange toned, leather office chair. As I sipped my tea, I began opening and reading my mail until I heard someone walking through the salon.

“Who is that?” I yelled from my office.

“Al, gal. Whoo ya tink it was?” he asked, in his light Jamaican accent.

“What in the hell are you doing up so early?” I asked, as I stood up and walked out of my office to greet my good friend.

“Ya know Rasta man nehva sleep,” he joked, embracing me tenderly. “How ya feelin’, dahlin’? You know me worry ‘bout cha in da ‘ospital. You alrigh’, gal?” he asked, putting on. He went in and out of his old ass Jamaican accent whenever he felt like it.

“Yeah, I’m fine, silly man,” I laughed, releasing his embrace. “You want some coffee or tea or anything else to drink?”

“Yeah, I’ll get meself someting. Gowan back to ya bizness,” he said, and playfully pushed me.

I watched Alson Smitey as he walked into the pantry and realized that I hadn’t seen him in over three weeks. I noticed that he’d let his beard grow back and his locks had gotten a little longer. I still had him by a couple of inches when it came to height, but with that thin frame of his, I couldn’t miss that he had grown a couple of inches around his belly.

Some people thought Al was a little intimidating, but not too many things intimidate me. Al was one of the nicest and most generous men I had ever met.

I met him close to six years ago through mutual friends. He first asked me out on a date and, when I refused, he said that he would pay me. Of course, I laughed in his face and walked away — I don’t know what type of hooker he thought me to be. Because he had a lot of money and had no problem spending it liberally, he had many women at his disposal. Al had a reputation for taking you to the Four Seasons for breakfast and to Saks for lunch. That’s just how he lived, on a whim. Money was never an issue. Although Al was outgoing and never shy, he never once disclosed how he made his money. He never mentioned having his own business or what he did every day, which always worried me. He had too much money for it to be something legal without everyone knowing how he made it.

Al and I became close friends because we always seemed to end up in the same place at the same time. We’d find ourselves talking and laughing with each other most of the night, while everyone else wondered what we were laughing about. He was the big brother I never had. I know for sure that we were much better as friends than we could have ever been as lovers, especially since he finally admitted that he had been married for over 10 years.

If I ever needed anything, Al was the first person I’d call. He’d give me whatever I wanted without so much as an explanation as to what I needed it for. If ever there were a time that I didn’t bring my problems to Al and he later found out, he would literally be offended. He was always willing to help me, no matter what. About two years into our friendship, Al came to visit me at my apartment. He could tell immediately that something was wrong with me. That day, I had left the salon I was working in and I was never going back there. I had promised myself that when the next fight broke out in that place, I would be gone. Unfortunately, it happened sooner rather than later.

I was flat ironing my last customer at about
6:00
on a Friday evening while Tameika, one of the other hair stylists, was pressing her client’s hair. She burned the lady about three times and kept on talking to one of the other stylists as if it hadn’t happened. She had the nerve to tell the lady it was just the heat from the comb, but the lady insisted that she felt the comb touch her scalp. Every time I saw the lady jump from the hot comb touching her scalp, I knew Tameika was getting closer and closer to a beat down. But she just kept on running her mouth and burned the lady again. It all happened so quickly. The lady jumped up, knocked Tameika out cold, and walked right out the salon with half of her hair straight and the other half an afro. It was the funniest and most ridiculous thing I’d ever seen in a place of business. What’s more shameful is that it wasn’t close to the first fight that had broken out in that place. But it was definitely the last one for me. I knew I’d be taking all my shit with me when I walked out of that door that evening. Those people never heard from me again.