Page 50
Story: Fiery Romance
I don’t knowif Clay Bolton’s last words to me are a promise, a warning or a threat, but I don’t have time to ruminate over it.
The moment I leave his car, I step into the chaos of shattered glass, roaming police officers, a crowd of spying passers-by and a couple news vans.
Unfortunately, my public persona and the documentation of my journey to owning my own salons means that I’m somewhat of a local celebrity.
Although I used to believe that all publicity is good publicity, I think this might be an exception.
Rasheeda is sitting in the corner of the store. Her mascara’s running and she’s got her head in her hands.
I pick my way across overturned glass to get to her.
“Hey, are you okay?” I touch her shoulder.
“Island.” She looks up with mascara running down her dark face. “What am I going to do? I sank everything into this business.”
“It’s just broken glass and material things, Rasheeda. It can be replaced.”
She shakes her head. “The police said they need to lock it off to investigate. Since crime’s been getting so bad, they want to capture all the evidence they can. What if we can’t work here for weeks? Months?”
“That won’t happen,” I say firmly. “And even if it does, so what?”
Her head whips up. “What do you mean? We’ll go bankrupt!”
“No, we won’t.” I gesture to her. “Are your fingers still working?”
She flexes hands that are nimble and sure from years of twisting black hair.
“See? That’s all you need. This,” I motion to the space, “is just a building.”
“But…”
“Where did you first start getting your hair done?”
“Um… at this shop down the street from my house—”
“No.” I shake my head. “The very first time.”
“I guess my mama did it.”
“Exactly. And if it wasn’t your mama, it was your gran or your auntie. You were probably sitting on a little stool or a cushion or just plain on the hard floor. And I bet those were some bomb braids they installed too.”
“Of course.” Life trickles back into her eyes.
“Rasheeda, the spirit of a salon isn’t in the building but in the people. Once you have that, you’ll be fine.”
“But aren’t you going to lose a lot of money too?”
I glance around. “It’ll take some time to clean up here, but it’s not the end of the world. What we have to focus on is letting your appointments for this week know of the change.” I pull my lips into my mouth and think quickly. “Look at this, not as a crisis but as an opportunity.”
“How isthisan opportunity?”
“During the investigation, our salon will offer a… a…” The idea comes to me like a storm. “A deluxe home experience package!” I snap my fingers as the idea fleshes out. “Technicians will do home care. Save clients the trouble of driving over. ‘Bring the salon to you’.”
“Some of my customers ain’t gonna like that.” Rasheeda scrunches her nose. “They come here to get away.”
“So we change locations to your house temporarily and offer clients a discount. Not just a discount. We can give them a coupon for future discounts on hair conditioners, hair dryers and other inventory. We’ll be honest with how hard this is. Share the details. It’ll give us some grace with customers and strengthen the feeling of community.”
“Y-you’re right. That’s not bad.”
The moment I leave his car, I step into the chaos of shattered glass, roaming police officers, a crowd of spying passers-by and a couple news vans.
Unfortunately, my public persona and the documentation of my journey to owning my own salons means that I’m somewhat of a local celebrity.
Although I used to believe that all publicity is good publicity, I think this might be an exception.
Rasheeda is sitting in the corner of the store. Her mascara’s running and she’s got her head in her hands.
I pick my way across overturned glass to get to her.
“Hey, are you okay?” I touch her shoulder.
“Island.” She looks up with mascara running down her dark face. “What am I going to do? I sank everything into this business.”
“It’s just broken glass and material things, Rasheeda. It can be replaced.”
She shakes her head. “The police said they need to lock it off to investigate. Since crime’s been getting so bad, they want to capture all the evidence they can. What if we can’t work here for weeks? Months?”
“That won’t happen,” I say firmly. “And even if it does, so what?”
Her head whips up. “What do you mean? We’ll go bankrupt!”
“No, we won’t.” I gesture to her. “Are your fingers still working?”
She flexes hands that are nimble and sure from years of twisting black hair.
“See? That’s all you need. This,” I motion to the space, “is just a building.”
“But…”
“Where did you first start getting your hair done?”
“Um… at this shop down the street from my house—”
“No.” I shake my head. “The very first time.”
“I guess my mama did it.”
“Exactly. And if it wasn’t your mama, it was your gran or your auntie. You were probably sitting on a little stool or a cushion or just plain on the hard floor. And I bet those were some bomb braids they installed too.”
“Of course.” Life trickles back into her eyes.
“Rasheeda, the spirit of a salon isn’t in the building but in the people. Once you have that, you’ll be fine.”
“But aren’t you going to lose a lot of money too?”
I glance around. “It’ll take some time to clean up here, but it’s not the end of the world. What we have to focus on is letting your appointments for this week know of the change.” I pull my lips into my mouth and think quickly. “Look at this, not as a crisis but as an opportunity.”
“How isthisan opportunity?”
“During the investigation, our salon will offer a… a…” The idea comes to me like a storm. “A deluxe home experience package!” I snap my fingers as the idea fleshes out. “Technicians will do home care. Save clients the trouble of driving over. ‘Bring the salon to you’.”
“Some of my customers ain’t gonna like that.” Rasheeda scrunches her nose. “They come here to get away.”
“So we change locations to your house temporarily and offer clients a discount. Not just a discount. We can give them a coupon for future discounts on hair conditioners, hair dryers and other inventory. We’ll be honest with how hard this is. Share the details. It’ll give us some grace with customers and strengthen the feeling of community.”
“Y-you’re right. That’s not bad.”
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