She came in wearing a pair of Gold True Religion skinny leg jeans and a white and gold shirt that said “True Religion” on the front. On her feet was a pair of gold Michael Kors sneakers, along with her gold MK watch and handbag. The bitch has style too!
“Hey, you look familiar,” she said when she stood in front of me. I laughed at her and said a quick prayer that I didn’t slap the fuck out of her with this damn curling iron in my damn hand. I never understood why bitches chose to be so damn petty, and then to come at my job and do the shit? Like that bitch Ashley that came over here awhile back and showed her ass in my damn shop, and I ended up beating her damn ass. I swear these hoes be underestimating me because of my small size, but trust me, I can hang with the best of them!
This bitch knew exactly who the fuck I was. It’s no way in hell she could forget a face as beautiful as mine. This was only my second time seeing her since the day Tyrone introduced her to me. This hoe was really trying to be cute, asking who the fuck I was. I mean there were numerous amount of pictures of me in my husband’s office, so why this hoe was trying to play stupid was beyond me.
“Mrs. Brown, Tyrone’s wife,” I said, not even paying her dumb ass any attention.
“Oh yeah, now I remember you. I didn’t know you worked here-“
“Correction, I own this here,” I said, cutting her off.
“Okay well, could you hook me up today, I just want a wash and set,” she said.
“Sorry, we don’t do walk-ins,” I told her, lying my ass off. We did do walk-ins, I just didn’t want to get tempted and end up burning the shit out of that girl with my curling iron, so to avoid any unnecessary drama, I wasn’t going to do her damn hair.
Before she walked off, I had Peaches, one of my workers, hand her one of his cards. I could have easily did the bitch’s hair, but I don’t fuckin like her ass. She tried to be fuckin funny and act like she didn’t know who I was, but she knew exactly who the fuck I was, and I could have easily let one of the other girls do her hair, but for some reason I just felt like being petty today.
“Bitch who was that?” Tisha asked, coming over to my station. I swear the girl was my fuckin hip. Her ass didn’t miss shit at all when it came to me, and vice versa.
“That’s the new assistant manager at the club. I don’t trust that hoe,” I said, taking the cape off my client because I was finished with her hair. She went inside her purse and paid me and was on her way.
Tisha and I headed to the back office to take our break, because we didn’t have any more appointments for another hour or so. Thank God, because my damn feet were killing me after standing up so long. I never like to sit down when I’m doing hair, because I feel like it slows me down, so I’d just rather stand up and let my feet get swollen. It doesn’t matter, because I know my husband will massage them as soon as I get home.
“What did she want though?” Tisha asked, sitting in my office chair.
“At first the bitch tried to be funny, talking about I looked familiar. She knew who the fuck I was because Ty had introduced her to me awhile back. After that, she asked me if I could do her hair, I told that hoe we don’t do walk-ins,” I said.
Tisha burst out laughing at how petty I was. See, I would have did the bitch’s hair, I just wasn’t feeling the way she tried to be funny. Maybe next time if she acted like she had some fuckin sense, then I might do it.
After Tisha calmed down and stopped laughing, she got serious for a minute.
“For real though, I’m about to say something but please don’t get mad at me though, alright?” Tisha said, dead serious.
“What Tisha?” I asked, already having my guard up with this one. Knowing Tis
ha’s ass, it was no telling what bomb she was about to drop on me.
“Remember you would always say that your mom would tell you when you were younger that your daddy had died? And then when you got older she finally told you the truth and said that he left to go be with his other family?” Tisha asked and I looked at her, nodding my head not knowing where she was going with this conversation.
“Tisha, get to the damn point. What are you trying to imply?” I asked, getting frustrated because her ass was beating around the damn bush.
“I’m not implying shit. I think that bitch is your damn sister. That girl look just like your ass and everything. I saw her last week though when I went to the club to have lunch with Otis, and I noticed that her ass looked like you but I didn’t really pay it any mind until now. That bitch even walk like your ass,” Tisha said, pacing back and forth like she had solved a big ass problem.
“Bitch shut up. You saw that hoe for all of two seconds and you assuming that’s my damn sister,” I said, getting defensive.
“Lani, I’m not even trying to be fuckin funny. And didn’t you just hear me say I saw the bitch last week too? This ain’t my first time seeing her ass! She got those hazel eyes like you and that one dimple in her left cheek like you do too,” Tisha said, sounding dead ass serious.
“Bitch you seen all that by looking at this hoe for what? A minute? Tisha cut the bullshit,” I told her, waving her off and pulling out my phone to read the text from my husband.
“Alright, that’s probably your big sister girl,” she said, laughing and finally sitting her hyped up ass back down on the seat. I swear the girl never ceased to amaze me, talking about that’s my damn sister! And even if the bitch did look like me, which I think she didn’t, why does that mean that she had to be my sister? Why can’t we just have something in common? I know plenty of people with one dimple, hazel eyes, and that’s bowlegged! It doesn’t mean they my damn sister either.
“I’m glad you think that’s fuckin funny. Now watch me order this Chinese food and don’t order shit for you,” I said, scrolling through my contact log and trying to find the number to the Chinese place.
“Hoe I don’t care, my man on his way now to bring me lunch,” Tisha said laughing.
For the rest of the night, things at the shop went by pretty smoothly. I ended up leaving from there a little bit after 8 p.m. I came home to an empty house and went upstairs to run me a hot bath. As I sat in the tub, all I could think about is what the fuck Tisha said at the shop. I never even knew who the fuck my real father was to begin with. Every time I would ask my mother about him when I was younger, she would always say that he died. She never told me how he died or when he died, all I knew was that his ass was dead. When I was in the first grade and my elementary school had our annual career day, all the parents came out and gave us a brief overview of what they do on a daily basis. The only person I had was my mom, but she couldn’t come because she would be working. Seeing all the dads in the room, which consisted of firefighters, police officers, etc., made me question my mom about my dad. So, I grew thinking that my dad had passed away.
When I turned 15 years old, I decided to press the issue a little further. I knew fuckin well that my daddy wasn’t dead, because never in my life growing up did I ever see my mother crying for this man. I never saw her in mourning or anything. I never saw a picture of him hanging up around the house. It’s like it was a fuckin mystery or some shit. When I asked her the truth about my dad the next time, she told me that he had another family and didn’t want to be with us anymore–that’s all she had to fuckin say in the first place! Had my ass crying every night over this man because I felt like he didn’t deserve to die and we never got the chance to have a relationship. After that day, I was just like fuck him, that’s his loss. But now, I wanted to know a little bit more.