Page 9

Chapter nine

“Do I have to go under the dryer?”

Gina sucked her teeth. “You ask me that every time.”

“Because it’s hot as balls, and my hair should be moisturized enough already.”

“It’s very important to keep the proper moisture-protein balance,” she said, smirking. “And with three men in your bed, I have a feeling you’re overloaded on the latter.”

I swatted at her leg, laughing when she jumped out of the way.

“Fine,” she agreed. “No dryer this time. ”

“Thank you! I lowkey feel like y’all only do the dryer because you need us out the way so you can work on the next client.”

“I can neither confirm, nor deny,” she said as she led me over to the bowl.

After my shampoo, condition, and steam, Gina put me in her chair. I zoned out while she detangled me, watching in the mirror, staring at myself, liking what I saw.

“Your ends look good,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “No trim today.”

She blew me dry, sectioned my hair, and went to work flat ironing my strands to a smooth, glossy finish. The pull of the comb, the heat on my scalp, the swivel of the chair…it all felt like a ritual. It was familiar. Comforting. And it allowed my mind to wander.

To Storm.

Gina had been my stylist for almost ten years and best friend for longer, so she knew me well. She tilted her head, setting the flat iron down. “What’s going on? Something’s going on.”

I hesitated. I wanted to talk about it, but I wasn’t sure how to put it into words without sounding crazy. Without making Storm sound crazy.

“It’s…complicated.”

“Bitch, this ain’t Facebook.” She paused to quirk an eyebrow. “One of your men actin’ up? Or all of ‘em actin’ up? Girl, you signed up for thrice the problems. Shoulda seen this coming.”

“Thrice?” I exhaled a laugh. “I can’t with you. But yes, it’s about one of them.”

She turned my chair to get to the other side of my head, but the rat-tail comb sat forgotten in her hand. “Lemme guess,” she said. “The uptight one? The dangerous, silent one? Or my client, the class clown?”

I rolled my eyes. “Storm.”

“Okay, the uptight one.”

“Not as uptight as you think.”

She met my eyes in the mirror. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

I swallowed hard, wondering how much I should say. Gina was my best friend in the world. She would never judge me. But she might judge him , and I didn’t want that.

She tapped her foot impatiently. “Santari.”

I sighed. “Okay, so…Storm ha s this thing.”

Her lips curled into a slow smile. “What kind of thing?”

I shrugged slightly, hesitating again. “It’s something…well, it’s different. Something I wouldn’t have expected.”

Gina picked up the flat iron, waving it in the air. “If you don’t start making sense—”

“Okay, okay.” My eyes drifted to the women at the other stations getting their hair done, paying me no mind as they scrolled their phones.

I took a deep breath, lowering my voice to say, “He likes giving up control.”

Gina blinked. “Okay…”

Heat crept up my neck, and not from the flat iron. “Like, all control.”

Her mouth parted slightly as the realization hit. Then, her whole face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh, San got herself a sub?” She grinned, pumping her fist. “You little freak!”

“Shhh!” I hissed, my eyes shifting wildly around the salon.

She bellowed out a laugh, tossing her braids over her shoulder. “Girl, ain’t nobody listenin’ to you. Wow. Uptight, studious, nerdy professor Storm? A submissive?”

“Well…” I trailed off, bracing myself for the next admission. “One more thing. This one really threw me.”

She waited.

“It turns him on when I…spend up his money.”

“Biiiiiiitch!!!”

This time, all eyes were on us. I whipped my head to the right to give Gina a glare, which she understood loud and clear.

“My bad,” she said, lowering her voice. “I’m just excited. You got a whole paypig over there, bitch.”

“Paypig?”

“That man out here ready to direct deposit his paychecks into your account. I love that for you.”

“No, that’s not…” I trailed off. “Rewind it back to paypig.”

“It’s just a term,” she said as she picked up a section of my hair. “I had one. Never told you about him cuz he was an old white man.”

“What? ”

She snickered. “Yeah, girl. He helped pay for this shop, if that tells you anything.”

I thought about that. “So it didn’t bother you? Like, you didn’t feel guilty?”

“Fuck no.” She ran the flat iron over my strands, then pin curled the section and put a clip in. “It’s not like you’re manipulating them into it. Girl, they love it. They get off on that shit.” She stopped to think. “I’ve never heard of a black one, though. That’s rare.”

“Hmm.”

“Got you a whole unicorn, San. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Well…he gave me his card the other day so I could buy some stuff for the wedding…” I trailed off, my cheeks heating from the memory. “I have to say, I really enjoyed the aftermath.”

Gina pressed a hand to her chest, fanning herself dramatically. “This is better than I could have imagined. You been getting your feet rubbed, paid, and he lets you run him.”

I shifted in my seat, feeling defensive. “I don’t run him. I told you, it’s complicated. ”

“What’s complicated about being worshipped?”

That was the same term Storm used. It sounded to me like this really was a thing; they had vocabulary words and everything.

I stared down at my hands, fingers tangling in my lap. “It doesn’t come naturally to me,” I admitted. “I just don’t know if I have it in me.”

“To torture him?”

I nodded.

She smiled, setting the flat iron down before turning my chair so I faced her head-on.

“San, listen to me. He wants this. It’s not just something they like…it’s what they need .” Her eyes bore into mine. “Some men need to be in control all the time. But other men? Like yours? They need to give it up.”

I nodded.

“Think about it. He has all that pressure on him every day. Students he’s responsible for. People that look up to him. That house y’all own.”

And all the people he gets paid to kill .

“Serious responsibilities,” she continued. “You’re the only person he can go to where he can let all that shit go.”

I pressed my lips together, thinking through it. “Okay, but what if I go too far? What if I push him past his limit?”

“San.” She squeezed my shoulder. “He’ll tell you if you do. That man ain’t gon’ sit there and take something he doesn’t like. But the bigger picture you’re missing here is that he trusts you. He knows you can handle him. You need to trust yourself.”

I blew out a breath.

Gina had clocked me, per usual. At the core of it, I didn’t trust myself in this position. But like everything else in my life, I could excel if I put my mind to it. And my mouth. And my coochie.

Gina smirked. “If you can handle dating and fucking three men at the same time, you can learn how to be a little dominant.”

I shot her a look as she pulled out the hot comb.

“Bitch, I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’ else.”