Page 19 of Bern and Isley (D-Ville Projects #5)

Isley

I stared at the notebook on the kitchen table.

In front of me I had written down the pros and cons of renting a booth in an established salon versus renting a salon suite.

Renting a salon suite would give me the privacy I desired, but renting a booth was a hundred dollars cheaper a week.

Renting a booth would also give me the opportunity to socialize with other stylists and get human interaction outside of just my aunt.

But seeing that I was an introvert, I could see myself getting tired of socializing really quickly.

There were so many decisions I needed to make.

Outside of creating income, I needed to start thinking about childcare.

It was during those times that grief crept up on me.

I knew if my mother was still living, she would offer assistance or sound advice.

I took a deep breath then closed my notebook to give my brain a rest. I didn’t want to get myself worked up. Things would work out the way they were supposed to. Besides, I had a client who was due to show up at any minute.

Just as I finished setting up the area in the kitchen where I worked, there was a knock at the door.

It was a first-time client requesting small, butt length, knotless braids.

She was the only person I had scheduled for the day because of the time it would take to service her.

The young lady named Braylah strolled into my home, barely speaking.

It was nine in the morning, so I didn’t think anything of it.

I figured she wasn’t a morning person. She had on the tightest coochie cutter shorts.

They were so tight they may as well have been painted on her.

She paired them with a neon orange bandeau top.

Her thick hair was pulled into a ponytail no more than three inches long.

She took a seat as I wrapped my leopard cape around her and started on her hair. Eighties soul music played in the background.

“So, Braylah, how did you hear about me?”

She smacked her teeth. “Around the complex.”

“Oh, okay. Anybody in particular recommend me?”

“I can’t remember off the top of my head,” she replied bluntly.

“Cool. Well, I appreciate you booking with me.”

I ended that conversation because it was very clear lil mama wasn’t interested in the small talk.

Nor was I, but her vibes were way off so I was trying to figure out a way to neutralize the negative energy.

I mean if I was going to spend six hours on her head, I figured we could at least be cordial.

But seeing that I had a lot on my mind, I attempted to block out Braylah’s standoffish attitude.

I was perfectly fine offering silent service.

My mind wandered to Bern. I had been spending every evening with him since he moved back into the complex.

It felt good. Like old times. Watching movies and feeding our faces.

The nigga acted like he had to buy or make me food every time I stepped foot into his place.

Fuckin’ around with him was going to have me gaining weight faster than I should.

I told him contrary to popular belief, I only needed a few hundred more calories than I did pre-pregnancy.

He wasn’t trying to hear that though. I hated to admit it but I enjoyed being catered to.

It felt good being the one cared for instead of doing the caregiving.

When I was with him, he didn’t allow me to lift a finger.

He would cook for me, fix my plate, and put the dishes away.

He wouldn’t even let me drive if we went to get takeout.

Thankfully, time moved faster than I thought it would. I was oiling the client’s scalp when there was a knock on the door. My brows furrowed. I wasn’t expecting anyone else. I wiped my hands against my apron before shuffling to the door.

I was surprised to see who was on the other side.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see my baby’s mama.” Marshall smirked. “Are you going to let me in or what?”

I rolled my eyes then stepped back to allow him to enter the unit. “You can have a seat while I finish up.”

He walked into the living area and sat on the sofa. It was my first time seeing him since we broke up and the negative feelings I felt toward him still festered. The attraction I once felt for him was no longer present. Being honest, I was somewhat repulsed by even being in the vicinity of him.

“Okay, Ms. Braylah, you’re all done. Your total is two hundred dollars.” I passed her the handheld mirror then removed her cape as she admired my work.

“I don’t have that much. I thought you told me it was one hundred.”

“For small knotless? No, ma’am. I said it was two hundred.” I pulled my phone from my pocket to review our text thread. And just like I thought, I quoted her two hundred dollars. I held my phone in her view so she could see it.

Braylah shoved my hand away and placed a one-hundred-dollar bill on the table. “I don’t need to see that. All I got is a hundred dollars, so you can take it or leave it.”

I was taken aback. It was the first time I’d had a client not only try to short me, but challenge me about my pricing. The women around the way just didn’t move like that.

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but you better call somebody and have them send me the rest of the money you owe me or you can get your ass whooped.”

“Bitch, you whooping my ass is the last thing I’m worried about.” She swung her head and crossed her arms. “Now take that money and get over it, hoe.”

My blood boiled. She turned her head toward the door and I grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her back. I quickly pulled my shears from my apron then cut several braids out of her head.

“Bitttchhhh!” she yelled as she grasped at my hands.

“Hey, cut that shit out.” Marshall finally stood and rushed between us as Braylah started swinging wildly. I swung back at her, connecting twice.

“Get the fuck out of my house, you broke bitch,” I yelled as Marshall dragged the girl out of the apartment.

“Hoe, this not over. I already owe you for fucking on my cousin man. I’ll be back, bitch.”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Marshall shoved her as he blocked me from following her.

I was fuming. I couldn’t believe the chain of events. That was the most ghetto ass shit that had happened to me. I was so glad Aunt Fee had been visiting the candy lady in the building and wasn’t there when the altercation occurred. I hated that I had allowed drama in her space.

“See, this is why you need to get a real muthafuckin’ job, Isley. You doing hair in the fuckin’ house is ratchet as fuck. If you want to be a damn mama, you need to be more responsible.”

I glared at the father of my child. How dare he look down on how I made my living? It was honest money. Flexible hours. Hell, and the earning potential was truly unlimited.

“You can get the hell on if you think that I’m going to listen to you talk down on me. Why the fuck are you even here?” I was ready to slap his ass next.

“Alright, Isley. Just calm down. Damn.” Marshall raised his hand. “I just don’t want my child harmed because ghetto bitches come around here with drama. I came over hoping I can take you out to lunch.”

“I don’t feel like eating. I’m still pissed,” I admitted.

“I know you’re upset, but you need to feed my baby. So come on.”

I didn’t bother to respond, but my stomach growled loudly, completely disregarding my plan to wallow in my negative feelings.

“Please, Isley.” Marshall grabbed my hand.

I snatched my hand from his and removed my apron. “Alright, I guess I can use some fresh air after all of that. Let me freshen up really quick.”

I was ready within thirty minutes and reluctantly rode with Marshall to Pancake House. I got my usual stack of pancakes with sunny side up eggs and bacon.

“So, since you’re carrying my baby, I think we need to discuss reconnecting.”

I scrunched my face at his statement. My day had already been shitty, the last thing I wanted to do was entertain the thought of reconciling with Marshall.

“Isley, I come from a two-parent home. I want the same for my child.”

“Marshall, please… you and I didn’t work. It’s unfortunate, but I believe we’re very capable of successfully co-parenting. I will not stand in the way of you being a part of our child’s life. But us getting back together will not happen.”

His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

But that shit didn’t move me. I hadn’t forgotten the hurtful things he’d said to me and his accusations.

I’d rather be single than be treated the way he’d treated me.

I knew it wouldn’t be easy to be a single mother, but I was willing to give my child all I had.

“You didn’t even think about it.”

“There’s nothing to think about. So can we please leave this conversation alone? I’ve had a rough day, as you just witnessed. I would like to just enjoy our meal. Please.”

He reluctantly let the conversation go. Well, he was quiet.

But the glower that took over his face warned me that he hadn’t let it go.

It was just marinating for whenever he felt like bringing it back up.

I enjoyed my meal despite the awkward silence between Marshall and me.

As soon as we finished our food, he immediately asked for the check to pay.

I was thankful for that as I was ready to get home and unwind.

Marshall peeled out of the restaurant parking lot so fast I thought he was going to hit an elderly lady walking nearby.

“Can you please slow down?” I asked in a calm, neutral voice.

“Don’t tell me how to drive. I’m trying to hurry up and get your dusty ass home.”

“You don’t have to worry about it. Pull this muthafucka over. I’ll walk. Pull over!”

“Shut your dumb ass up,” he growled as he sped up even more.

“Let me the fuck out!”

I pulled my phone out of my purse then called Bern. He answered on the first ring.

“What up, Icey?”

Before I could respond, Marshall snatched the phone from my hand.

“Give me back my phone,” I yelled as I attempted to grab it from him.

“Chill out,” Marshall yelled as he hit the end button.

“Marshall, pull over and let me out. I’m not fucking playing,” I warned.

He continued to speed while holding my phone out of reach. I couldn’t believe he was acting so erratically. I realized I didn’t know this nigga at all.

“That baby probably ain’t even mine,” he blurted out before bursting out in an evil laugh. He stared at me with disgust while driving recklessly. “That hoe did say you been fucking her cousin’s man.”

Before I could respond, Marshall sped through the red traffic light without stopping. I yelled as a black Sprinter van crossed the intersection, slamming into us. That was all I remembered before things went black.