Fixin’ Tyrone (4 page)

“
Dammit
!” she hissed, and bent to rub her offended foot. The toe was fine, but her new shoes had a fresh scuff.
Why is all this happening to me
, she wondered, looking around for whatever she tripped on. There were hundreds of bricks planted in his sidewalk and driveway, and only
one
of them was loose, and Mia just happened to run into that one.

From a crouched position, she wiggled the block free from the ground. It was an Acme brick. Mia looked up and Eric’s beamer seemed to grin at her.

“This has got to be a sign
,”
she whispered into the night
.

No, it’s not. Don’t do it.

God gave me this brick.

You’re too old for that.

But it came loose for me.

You’ll be sorry.
And she probably would, but there was no way fate was going to give her a brick and expect her not to use it. Mia shut up the scaredy-cat voice in her head and walked to the front of Eric’s car. If you’re going to break out a window, it might as well be the most important one, right? She reared back like Nolan Ryan in his heyday, got as much momentum as her triceps could muster, and chucked that brick harder than anything she’d thrown in years.

And damn if it didn’t bounce right off.

That’s a sign.

Yeah, whatever
, Mia thought. She inched in for a closer inspection and saw there was a small chip at the point of impact. It would break. She just needed a more feasible instrument.

The tire iron from her trunk worked just fine.

* * *

On the way home the local radio station had the nerve to play the same stupid Jagged Edge song Mia listened to when she and Eric were in the throes of passion.

Walked right into heaven, my ass
. She put in a CD more appropriate for her mood. Lil’ Kim knew exactly just how she felt.

Wanna bumble with the bee, huh? BZZZT! Throw a hex on yo whole family!

THERAPY

Nestled almost right in the middle of Lancaster Avenue, Overbrook Meadows’s longest thoroughfare, was Claire’s Beauty Palace; truly a diamond in the rough. Just two years after its grand opening, the salon was a certified financial triumph; owner Ernestine Pollard wouldn’t have it any other way. She brought decades of experience to the venture. Ernestine already owned two other successful beauty shops in the city and was in the process of acquiring a defunct home-style restaurant within the next month or so.

At sixty-one, Ernestine was a notable role model and mentor to minority entrepreneurs all over the city. The last time she lost money on a deal, the schools were still segregated—and not all of her deals were good ones. Claire’s, for example, was located smack dab in arguably the worst neighborhood in Overbrook Meadows.

Mia grew up nearby, so she was used to the vagrants, hooligans, and gangbangers in the area. She would never cruise Lancaster after dark, but Saturday mornings were a different story. If you needed your hair twisted, permed, braided or weaved so flawlessly you’ll start thinking you really do have Indian in your family, Claire’s was definitely the place to go.

Ernestine devoted most of her time to this, her favorite salon, so you could meet the living legend herself behind the register on most days. Today she wore a purple blouse and black slacks with a wig she called the Halle Berry. Ernestine was the color of coffee with no cream. A large, confident woman, she exuded maternal instincts, and had already developed a close bond with all of her employees and most of her customers. A lot of the girls at the salon called her
Mama
, and Mia was no exception.

And as with her other shops, Mama Ernestine employed a cast of lively characters at Claire’s. These divas could lay the most natural tracks you’ve ever seen and give better advice than your marriage counselor at the same time.

Vasantha was a beautiful, twenty-two-year-old Latina. She was very talkative, with a body fine enough to get in a music video if that was her thing. She had pencil-thin eyebrows and bronze skin that made her look like Cleopatra.

Gayle, at forty-three, was a bit older and a bit wiser, too. She was full-figured, as sweet as a box of Godiva’s and attractive without a lot of makeup. Gayle was also a hopeless romantic and aspiring poetess. Unless they’ve heard one of her slam pieces, most people didn’t realize what a strong woman she was.

Vicki, also known as Delite, never met a man she couldn’t manipulate. Brown-skinned and stacked like Buffy the Body, Vicki drove a brand new Infinity M35, though her part-time job at Claire’s was her only taxable income.

And not to be outdone by the many Asian-owned nail shops in the area, Ernestine hired her very own Vietnamese manicurist. Nancy wasn’t a hardcore nail lady like her counterparts—meaning she had no thick accent and she conjugated her verbs perfectly—but she could sand a crusty heel with the best of them.

Nancy was actually a business major at Mia’s alma mater, Texas Lutheran University. She airbrushed her favorite customer’s fingernails and giggled at a quagmire right out of a romance novel.

“So, you used a tire iron?” Nancy clarified. She had large teeth and a big smile that always put Mia in a good mood.

“You should have broke
all
his windows,” Vasantha noted. “I ever catch my boyfriend cheating on me, I’m going to cut his thingy off like that girl, Jon Benet.”

“Wow,” Mia said. She reclined in her chair as Vasantha put the finishing touches on her shoulder-length flip. Vasantha wore tight jeans and a tight tee shirt. She smelled like cinnamon. “There’s like, so much wrong with what you just said,” Mia continued.

“Jon Benet is that little girl who got killed by her parents, fool!” Natiesha shouted from the waiting area some fifteen feet away. Natiesha was a regular at Claire’s. Today she came to get her braids taken down. Mia thought her pink and fuchsia extensions never should have been put in. Natiesha was known for her big mouth, and she never missed an opportunity to dispense her questionable wisdom.

“No, not her, then,” Vasantha said, her hands full of Mia’s locks. “Who’s the one who cut off her boyfriend’s thingy?”

“That’s
Lorena Bobbitt
,” Nancy said.

“Yeah, her,” Vasantha said. “I’d cut off his dick like that Lorena Bobbitt chick, and then I’d
kill him
like Jon Benet.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” Ernestine called from the register.

“Yeah, that’s pretty sick,” Mia agreed.

Claire’s was predictably packed this afternoon. There were ten girls in styling chairs already and five more waiting to have their hairdos stacked. Almost everyone had an opinion about the Eric incident.

“No, what’s sick is him cheating on you. With
all of those girls
?” Vasantha shook her head. “No, honey. He
need
to have his thingy cut off. You did good with that window.”

“What’d you say you call him?
Secret Agent Double-0 Player
?” Gayle laughed. She was applying the prettiest cornrows Mia had ever seen on a brooding stallion named Janice. Janice was tall and light-skinned, and built like Alicia Keys with bigger breasts. Mia didn’t idolize many women, but she often wondered if she would have the same problems with men if she was built like Janice.

“Girl, I’ve never seen anything like it,” Mia mused. “He called me this morning, too.”

“For real?” Nancy gasped.

“Yeah. I think I got two messages on my phone already.”

“What the hell is he calling you for?” Gayle wondered.

“I don’t know,” Mia said. “I hope he doesn’t want me to pay for his windshield.”

“Ooh, girl,” Janice said. “He prolly do. Are you gonna call him back?”

“Maybe,” Mia said. “I really don’t want to, but on the message he says he can explain
everything
.”

“That’s bullshit,” Gayle said, and Mia knew she was probably right.

“I had a boyfriend like that,” Vasantha offered. “Every time I look in his phone, he had like four Joses, six Jesses, and he didn’t even know nobody named
Jesse
!”

“You shouldn’t have been looking through his phone,” Natiesha noted.

“Aw, forget that,” Vasantha said. “You
gotta
look through they phone. If Mia didn’t look, she never woulda knew what he was doing.”

“Hell, yeah,” Gayle agreed. “You
better
look through his phone.”

“I usually
don’t
look through their phones,” Mia clarified. “I just happened to step on it when I got up, and it was vibrating. I still almost didn’t look.”

“I don’t look through my man’s phone,” Janice said.

“Girl, ain’t nobody gon’ cheat on you,” Gayle said. “We talkin’ bout
regular
women like
us
, or like me for sure. I know I
have to
look through they phone.”

“No you don’t. You’re pretty,” Mia said.

“I know I’m
pretty
,” Gayle said. “But it’s not even about that nowadays. Look at you, Mia. You look good. You know you do. Got a house and a good job and everything. But it
still
happened to you.”

“You
are
pretty,” Nancy chipped in.

“I just got caught slippin’,” Mia said. “But this nigga was slick. He showed me pictures of his kids and everything. He said they were his nieces and nephews. I didn’t even see the resemblance ’til afterwards.”

“After what?” Janice asked.

“After
wards
,” Mia said.

Nancy smiled.

“That’s ’cause you wanted some,” Natiesha blurted.

“Mmm, hmm,” Janice nodded. “You had yo blinders on, girl. How long was it since you got some?”

“Before Eric?” Mia closed her eyes and thought for a second. “Damn, that must have been, no. Yeah, that was Colin.”

“
Colin
? That was four months ago!” Vasantha calculated.

“He really doesn’t count, though,” Mia said.

“That was the five-minute man?” Gayle asked.

“
More like a
two-
minute man
,” Vasantha and Mia said at the same time and laughed.

“So was it
good
, girl?” Janice wanted to know. “You at least get yo rocks off before his wife called?”

Ernestine shook her head.

“That’s not funny,” Mia said. She grinned and stared at the mirror, but her stylist wasn’t working anymore.

“Well?” Vasantha asked. Gayle stopped braiding Janice’s hair, too. It seemed like everyone was waiting for an answer.

“It was so good,” Mia reminisced. “It was so good, even
after
his wife called I started trying to convince myself she was lying about who she was.”

“Damn. That
musta
been good,” Janice said.

“Was her clothes over there?” Vasantha asked. “If it wasn’t none of her clothes over there, she might have been lying.”

“Did you see any kids’ toys?” Nancy wanted to know.

“Did he have a
big dick
?” Gayle asked.

“Oh, my,” Ernestine said, and everyone laughed.

Mia laughed, too. When she composed herself, all the ladies were still looking at her.

“What?”

“His
dick
,” Vasantha reminded. “Was it big or what, girl?”

Mia looked around for a point of reference but could find none. “You ever been bowling?” she asked.

“Shut—
up
!” Gayle squealed.

“Stop lying,” Vasantha said with a grin.

Nancy just stared up in confusion.

“Damn, girl, you tugging my hair,” Mia said. “Okay, it’s not as big as the
whole
pin, but you know that fat head they got above the stripes?”

“Shut—
up
!” Gayle exclaimed.

Mia laughed and Nancy’s mouth hung open.

“You
sure
that was his wife?” Vasantha asked. “I wouldn’t cut off no weewee if it was
that
big!”

The whole place howled.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Mia cut through the noise. “It was only about eight inches . . .
limp
.”

The room again erupted in cackles and catcalls. A couple of the women thought Mia should call
Special Agent Double-0 Player
back to see what his explanation was, but there was wisdom dispensed also. It came from the most likely source.