It's a Curl Thing Read online

  We make three stops at three different hair salons, but not one hairstylist can fit me in, because they are busy with clients getting prom and wedding hairstyles.

  Depressed, on the verge of tears once more, I pull out my cell phone to call Mimi.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks me. I guess she can hear how upset I am just by my hello.

  “My sister messed up my hair and I can’t get it fixed,” I complain. “All of the hair salons are busy today and tomorrow. Prom is tomorrow night. What am I supposed to do?” I’m sure she can hear the frustration in my voice. “I don’t know why I even let Tameka in my head in the first place, especially for prom.”

  “Why don’t you call my hairstylist?” Mimi suggests. “Miss Marilee might be able to work you in today. If not her, one of the other stylists in the shop might be able to do your hair. They always leave slots open for emergencies.”

  “You talking about Crowning Glory Hair Salon on Sunset Boulevard?” I ask. “Are they reasonable? I don’t have your bucks.”

  “They’re the same as any other hair salon,” Mimi responds. “Ask for Miss Marilee when you get there and tell her I sent you.”

  “Mimi, can you just call her and see if she’ll take me?” I ask. “We’re about to get back on the 101 freeway. I don’t wanna have my cousin drive me all the way over there and then find out that she can’t do my hair.”

  “I know that’s right,” Chester puts in.

  I reach over and pinch him right above his elbow.

  He grunts in pain. “You better quit or you gonna be walking.”

  “Please, Mimi,” I say. “Will you call her?”

  “Let me do it now and I’ll call you back, Rhyann.”

  Mimi calls me back not even five minutes later. “Miss Marilee says she can take you right now. I told her that you were on your way.”

  I release a long sigh of relief. “Mimi says her hairstylist can take me,” I say to Chester. “The salon’s on Sunset.”

  Thankfully, traffic isn’t too congested. I settle back against the soft leather of the passenger seat. “Thanks so much, Mimi. Girl, I was gonna have to stay home tomorrow if I couldn’t get my hair right.”

  “What happened?” Mimi wants to know. “How did your sister mess up your hair?”

  “Tameka was supposed to give me a razor-cut hairstyle, and girl, she jacked it up. I look a hot mess!” I sputter. “Then she…I don’t know what she did with the color. It looks horrible. Mimi, I really hope the shop’s not crowded when I get there. I’m too embarrassed to go anywhere with my hair looking like this.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” Mimi replies.

  “Humph!” I utter. “You haven’t seen it.”

  “Then take a picture and send it to my cell. I want to see what she did.”

  “Chester, do me a favor and take a picture of me with your phone so I can send it to Mimi.”

  He quickly snaps the picture and tosses the phone to me. “I’m sending it now,” I tell Mimi. “Call me when you get it—and you better not laugh.”

  She calls me exactly four minutes later.

  “Girrrrl…”

  “Mimi, you know I can’t go anywhere looking like this.”

  “Miss Marilee will work it out, so stop worrying.”

  Chester takes the Temple Street exit off the freeway.

  “I’ll call you later,” I tell Mimi as we turn right on North Figueroa. “We’re almost there.” Chester turns left onto West Sunset and stops the car in front of Crowning Glory Hair Salon.

  Before I climb out of the BMW, I say, “I’ll call you when she’s almost done with my hair. Chester, please don’t take all night to pick me up. I have to get home to finish some homework. Okay?”

  “I’ll be here,” he assures me. “Just call me thirty minutes ahead of time.”

  Before entering the salon, I pull my cap down low on my head. I truly look through. I’m so finished with Tameka.

  I step inside the Crowning Glory Hair Salon, surveying the décor. Six stations with black granite countertops are positioned three on one side and three on the other wall. Huge mirrors cover the subtle red walls. Gleaming stainless-steel washbowls are located in the back, near a row of four hair dryers. Clients draped in red-and-black striped capes are seated in black leather chairs. In keeping with the color scheme, all the hairstylists are wearing black attire with red aprons.

  “Are you Rhyann Hamilton?” a woman standing at the counter asks. She looks like she should be in her nineties with all that gray hair, but her smooth, wrinkle-free, honey-colored complexion places her around Auntie Mo’s age, which is midforties.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I respond.

  She smiles. “I’m Miss Marilee. Take off your cap so that I can see the emergency.”

  I do as I’m told.

  The various conversations going on around the salon suddenly come to a halt. All eyes are on me. For once, I’m not looking for attention.

  Miss Marilee presses a hand to her chest before asking, “Sweetie, what in the world happened?”

  “I let my sister do my hair, and she didn’t have a clue what she was doing,” I explain.

  A couple of clients try to hide their chuckles, but they aren’t quick enough. I’m so totally embarrassed right now, I just want to die.

  “Don’t you worry,” Miss Marilee says, wrapping an arm around me. “I’ll have you straight in no time.”

  “I hope so,” I reply. “Tomorrow is my prom and I can’t be looking all crazy.”

  Miss Marilee guides me over to her chair. “You’re a beautiful girl, Rhyann. I believe you could pull off just about any look—even this one.”

  I give her a grateful smile before sitting down in the chair at her station.

  Tameka will be lucky if I ever talk to her again. I still can’t believe she jacked up my hair like this. She’s my sister and all, but that girl better not put her hands in nobody’s head again until she knows what she’s doing. For real.

  Chapter 2

  I survey my reflection in the mirror as I run my fingers through the soft curls. My hair feels silky, and it’s back to a warm shade of brown—at least that’s what Miss Marilee calls my hair color—but it’s short. She had to cut and shape it into a style that is so much shorter than I originally wanted.

  Thanks a lot, Tameka.

  “It’ll grow out.” Miss Marilee gives me a reassuring pat on my shoulder.

  “I know,” I respond. “But it won’t grow back by tomorrow night.”

  My hair is cute, but it’s just not the style I wanted for the prom. It took me three long years to grow my hair to bra-strap length, and in one afternoon it’s chopped so short that it barely reaches my shoulders. Tameka was only supposed to layer my hair.

  Right now life sucks for me.

  My depression gets a lot deeper when Miss Marilee tells me, “Correcting your color, the deep conditioning, and the haircut comes to one hundred seventy-five dollars.”

  Panic like I’ve never known before fills my throat. I don’t have that kind of money. This day is just not getting any better.

  “What’s wrong?” Miss Marilee asks when she sees my expression.

  A wave of apprehension sweeps through me, making me swallow hard. “Miss Marilee…I only have fifty dollars with me. Mimi didn’t tell me it would cost this much.” Pulling at the collar on my shirt, I glance around the salon helplessly. Just wait till I talk to that girl, I promise myself, but right now I can’t think about Mimi. I need to find a way out of this mess. “Miss Marilee, can I please work it off?” I ask in a low whisper.

  Her light brown eyes narrow. “Work it off how?”

  She’s careful to keep her voice down so that my business isn’t all out there, but I’m pretty sure the mortified expression on my face tells it all.

  “I can be a shampoo girl,” I suggest. “That’ll help move your clients in and out if you don’t have to do the washing. I know how to wash hair real good.” She doesn’t look happy, and I hol
d up my hands. “Miss Marilee, I’m really sorry about this. I figured I had enough money, but I should’ve asked you just to be sure. I promise I’m not trying to get over on you.”

  My stomach is in knots right now, and I can barely breathe. I sure hope Miss Marilee can see that I’m telling the truth. Mimi’s got me standing here looking like a bum. She’s gone down at least five notches on the B.F.F. chart.

  “I don’t normally do this,” Miss Marilee says at last. “But if you’re willing to work a couple of hours each afternoon for a week—we’ll call it even.”

  I jump out of the chair and embrace her. “Thanks so much, Miss Marilee. I’ll be here on Monday.”

  She chuckles. “We’re closed on Mondays, but I’ll see you Tuesday, Rhyann. Have a wonderful time at the prom, sweetheart.”

  While waiting on Chester to come pick me up, I watch Miss Marilee work on another client’s hair. Mimi likes her a lot, and I can see why. She’s a real nice lady and makes everybody feel special. Her daughter China works in the shop with her. She is Divine’s hairstylist whenever she’s in Los Angeles.

  Chester compliments me when he arrives. “You looking good, Rhyann.”

  “My hair is so short,” I say as I get into the car. “I hate it.”

  “It’ll grow back.”

  Folding my arms across my chest, I retort, “Chester, I don’t really care about that. I wanted to wear my hair long for the prom. I’m not going to the prom, because everything is all ruined now.”

  He answers, puzzled, “Girl, if it was that important, why didn’t you just get a weave?”

  “If this look cost me almost two hundred dollars, how much do you think a weave will cost?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

  Chester glances over at me. “Where’d you get the money to pay for your hair? I know you didn’t have no two hundred dollars.”

  “I’m gonna work it off by being a shampoo girl at the shop for a week.”

  He breaks into a grin. “Bartering—that’s all’ight.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. She’d already done my hair, so I have to pay her somehow.”

  “You want me to lend you the money?” Chester offers.

  Shaking my head no, I say, “I’ve decided that I’m not going to the prom. I’ll just work off what I owe Miss Marilee. Thanks for your offer, but I don’t need to borrow money I can’t pay back.”

  I shift my position in the limited space in the front seat. My cousin’s going on and on and on about my decision to stay home instead of going to prom. I admit that I feel a little guilty, because Auntie Mo stayed up late making my dress, but all this hair drama has me down. Boys don’t understand that a girl’s hair is a part of her wardrobe. If my hair isn’t right, then nothing is right with my world.

  Chester’s still running his mouth while I continue to stare out the window. I’m not about to get into an argument with him. He thinks he knows everything, but he doesn’t.

  Like get a clue. I’m not listening to you.

  I lean forward to turn up the music, hoping that Chester will catch the hint. I don’t know why Chester is always trying to preach to me and my brothers. He can’t handle his own business. If he could, he wouldn’t be having all that female drama in his own life. Chester tries to be a playa but always gets caught up in his own game. He just lost two girlfriends because they found out about each other.

  How smart can he be to let something like that happen?

  Chester barely has time to park the car in the driveway before I jump out. Auntie Mo isn’t home, so I head straight to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. My aunt had four children of her own when she took my sister, two brothers, and me into her home. Her daughter shared a room with me and Tameka during her college breaks. Auntie Mo’s two oldest boys shared a room, while Chester had to share his room with my brothers, Phillip and Brady. Chester got a room to himself when my aunt found out Marcus and Randy were selling drugs and she made them leave.

  I lie down on my bed to enjoy the rare peace and quiet. I’m not saying my neighborhood is bad, but since we’re so close to the Jungle, we end a lot of our days listening to the sound of police helicopters, sirens, or, worse, gunshots. Sometimes it feels like a war zone. I once overheard Chester telling Auntie Mo that gang banging was so bad that when one of his friends was trying to make a delivery to a store on Rosecrans, a group of gang members approached him and told him that his truck was the wrong color.

  I run my fingers through my hair once more. The smooth, silky feel is nice, but I just don’t like how short Miss Marilee had to cut it. I shake my head regretfully. This is so not fair.

  My cell phone rings.

  I don’t make a move to answer it. All I want to do right now is just lie here, savoring the silence.

  Okay, actually, I’m having a well-deserved pity party. I’ve had the worst kind of bad hair day.

  My pity party lasts for an hour.

  Eventually, the urge to vent consumes me, so I snap a photo of myself with my cell phone and send it to Divine, my favorite fashionista. She totally understands how a bad hair day can wreck your spirit. Besides, if I look whack, she’ll be the one to tell me.

  She calls me a few minutes later.

  “Rhyann, why did you get your hair cut?” Divine wants to know. “I thought you were trying to grow it long.”

  “Dee, you should’ve seen my hair,” I say. “Girl, I looked a hot mess! Then if that wasn’t enough, I didn’t even have enough money to pay Miss Marilee. I asked Mimi if this was one of those real expensive salons and she told me no. I’m too through with Mimi. I can’t deal with her right now. I didn’t even call her or send her the picture.”

  As we talk, I play with the fringe on my purple pillow. Auntie Mo allowed me to decorate my room in vivid purple hues with sage green accents. Divine and I both love the color purple.

  “What happened when you told Miss Marilee you didn’t have the money?” asks Divine.

  “She didn’t go off on me.” I’m starting to feel better. “She agreed to let me work it off. I’m gonna be a shampoo girl for a couple of hours all next week.”

  “Miss Marilee’s nice like that,” Divine says. “But, Rhyann, I don’t get it. Why don’t you want to go to your prom? You got your hair done and it looks good.”

  “Dee, my hair is so short now,” I reply. “It doesn’t come close to how I was supposed to wear it for prom. You know how long it took me to grow out my hair. And please don’t tell me that it’s gonna grow back. I’ve heard that like a million times already.”

  I blink rapidly to keep more tears from falling. I really wanted my prom look to be perfect. Instead, I let my sister do a hack job on my head, and now everything is ruined. I toss the pillow across the room in frustration.

  “Why didn’t you just get hair extensions for the prom?”

  “I wanted to, but Miss Marilee said that I needed to let my hair get healthy before putting extensions in.”

  “Rhyann, you’re cute, so it really doesn’t matter. You could pull off a bald head if you wanted to. You’ve seen my mom’s hair. She’s wearing it short now, and I think she looks great.”

  Divine scores twenty-five bonus B.F.F. points with me by her compliment. She’s a true diva, but she’s also a great friend, and she’s right about her mom. Miss Kara looks beautiful with her hair short.

  “So you really think my hair looks cute like this?” I ask, needing Divine to reassure me once more.

  “Yeah,” she answers. “Just be sure to wear a chunky necklace. You have a nice long neck—show it off, girl.”

  I’m not out of my funk yet, though. “Dee, I just wanted to be the fiercest girl at the prom.”

  “And you will be,” she responds. “You and Mimi are going to put everybody else to shame. Now if I was going to be there, y’all would be having issues with me because fierce wouldn’t be enough to describe me.”

  I laugh. “Like whatever…”

  “Rhyann, don’t miss your prom. This is one of the most
important nights in our lives. You have to go. After Madison and I broke up I wasn’t going, but I’m glad I changed my mind and went with T. J. We had so much fun.”

  I consider Divine’s advice. Besides, I really want to hang out with Traven. I haven’t seen him much since he started working. He goes to Dorsey High School with my brother Brady, and he’s a senior.

  “And don’t be too mad with Mimi. You know she can be a little spacey at times,” Divine adds. “Right now her mind is on the sophomore prom and nothing else. You know how she is, Rhyann.”

  I agree. Mimi can be very self-absorbed and even an airhead at times.

  I can hear a phone ringing in the background.

  “Hold on,” Divine tells me. “My aunt’s calling me.”

  When she comes back, Divine says, “Rhyann, I need to call you back. My dad’s on the other line.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Talk to you later.”

  I drop my cell phone on the bed and walk over to the full-length wooden mirror in my room to study my reflection.

  Divine calls me back ten minutes later, and I can tell that she’s upset about something. Putting aside my own drama, I ask, “What happened?”

  “Jerome said that Ava’s having some problems. She was rushed to the hospital last night.”

  “Did she have the baby?” It’s too early, if I remember right.

  “No, they were able to stop the contractions. She has to stay off her feet for the next few days.”

  “I’m glad it’s nothing more serious. She can at least go home.”

  We talk a few minutes more before hanging up.

  I go back to the mirror.

  Maybe Divine’s right. I could be fierce enough to pull off a designer knockoff and a short, sassy cut. Upon further contemplation, I decide that I can rock this look after all.

  Chapter 3

  Mimi, the girl who used to be one of my best friends, calls me just as I’m settling down to watch a movie. I need something to keep my mind off my hair.

  “Girl, I ought to knock you slap out,” I say into the phone. “I didn’t have near enough money to pay Miss Marilee. You had me standing there looking all kinds of stupid.”