Page 15 of The Millionaire Mortician

I had my feet kicked up on the little gold ottoman under my desk when Fabian’s dimples took over my phone screen. He was in his car, grinning like trouble.

“So what you doin’ lookin’ that fine at work?” he asked in a teasing tone. “Ain’t that against OSHA regulations or somethin’?”

I laughed and spun lightly in my chair like a little girl, tugging the blinds to peek out into the floor. The salon was in its midday mode, with everyone busy attending to clients.

“Boy, shut up,” I replied. “I’m on break between clients.”

“So you miss me yet?” He leaned closer like he could climb through the screen. I noticed his pupils were dark and playful.

“Miss you?” I cocked my head to the side. “Mmm, I might miss my food from the lunch you paid for. That shrimp Alfredo hit the spot.”

He pretended to clutch his chest. “Cold-blooded. You flirt with a man, eat his shrimp, and then act like this? That’s crazy work.”

“Flirt? Who’s flirting?” I twisted my mouth even though he couldn’t feel the heat I felt. “I just got friendly customer service etiquette.”

“Mhmm. Friendly. You gon’ keep playin’ in my face or you gon’ let me take you somewhere with cloth napkins and a valet?”

“Valet?” I mocked, then stifled a grin. “Fabian, my life’s already got valet.”

He laughed again, dimples deepening. “Yeah, but does your life have me?”

Heat prickled through my throat, then softened to a giggle that I tried to swallow. “You’re really somethin’ else.” I shook my head in a playful manner.

“Just say when,” he stated. “I like talkin’ to you, Daija. And you smile like you know it, too.”

I rolled my eyes, but he wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t smiled that openly in a minute. It felt dangerous as fuck, though. It felt like sneaking out of the house in high school and knowing your mom’s car was in the driveway.

“Let me think on it.” I lowered my voice more. “And stop calling me while you’re driving. I ain’t about to be responsible for you wrapping that car around a pole or some shit.”

“Say less, I’m pullin’ into the lot?—”

My office door swung open so hard it smacked the stopper with a clap. Maverick breezed in without knocking or anything, like he was the damn owner of the place.

“Yo, Dai,” he stated, voice smooth. “I need a cut.”

My thumb hit the end button like my hand had its own brain. The call ended before I even had a chance to think about it. Guilt jumped up, then quickly sat back down, smoothing her skirt, as if to say, ‘Mind your business .’

“Aight,” I replied, slipping my phone face down in the drawer. “I got you. You want my chair or you want the floor?” I joked, trying to ease the tension within myself.

“Your chair. What the fuck?” he retorted, like it wasn’t a question. “I ain’t got time today, Dai.” He turned to leave.

We stepped out of my office, and the salon clocked Maverick in a wave. Conversations dipped for a moment, then returned as if nothing had happened. Talina caught my eye across the room and winked. Ashley straightened herself like a ruler, chin lifted, giving a heavy stare.

Maverick had all eyes on him. He wore a white tee that looked expensive, his sweats hung just right, and his Cartier frames sat low, as if he didn’t need them to see you. The girls always pretended they weren’t looking when he walked back out, which only made it more obvious.

“Come on,” I instructed as I flung the cape over his body. “You and your last-minute ass.”

“Nah, I’m always on time,” he muttered, but with a smirk. He sank into my chair, leaned back, and exhaled like the day loosened around him just for a second.

I clicked on my clippers and got in the zone. My hands knew Mav’s head like a map. Ever since I met him and moved to New York, I have been his and Milan’s barber. That was the only time I got to use my clippers.

“You ready for the trip?” I pried.

I knew a little of Milan and Maverick’s history.

When I said a little, it was just that. Milan would always stiffen up or get in a mood when I asked questions about his family or their past. All I knew was that they were born in Trinidad and Tobago, and their parents had passed away when they were younger.

He took a minute to answer the question. “Yeah, I am. It’s long overdue,” he responded.

“I understand.”

While I handled him, he just fixated his eyes on an object and didn’t move them. He didn’t look around. He didn’t speak to anyone except me.

I was almost through with his taper when Ashley slid to the mirror, looking desperate. She had beaten her face nicely that day with cinnamon lids and glossy brown lips, but the thirst on her was heavy as hell.

“Maverick,” she started, all sweet, “you didn’t see me?”

He flicked his glance up just enough to catch her reflection, then let it drop without a care in the world. I just stood there, eyeing her.

“Yo,” he stated. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

Ashley’s smile shrank and turned into an attitude. “I work here.”

“And I’m workin’ here,” I chimed in, hoping she caught the energy. “Go back to your station, Ash.”

She crossed her arms. “I just asked a question?—”

“You heard your boss,” Mav cut in. “Go back where you came from and don’t walk up on me again.”

“Wow,” she voiced with a sarcastic laugh. “So, you really ain’t gon’ speak?”

Maverick turned his head just enough for me to pause the blade. He gave her the kind of look that made grown men double-check their tone.

“Is you stupid or dumb?” he asked with irritation in his voice. “Pick one.”

The salon went still around us, the way salons did when some shit was popping off. I felt Talina watching from the dryer row with her mouth in a straight line.

“Ashley,” I called out again, “go back to your station.”

At that moment, Ashley had already smelled her own feelings and wouldn’t let down. “You ain’t see me is crazy though,” she pushed. “Especially after how you?—”

“How I what?” Mav’s eyebrow tilted. “Did we even exchange numbers that night we fucked?”

Silence instantly snatched the music out of the air.

Ashley opened and closed her mouth, looking dumb. The gloss on her bottom lip trembled. “No, but?—”

I was finally finished with him, brushing off the excess hair.

“Aight then.” Maverick stood up while the cape was still on, shook his shoulders, and let the hair fall like he was shedding all of it. “So what made you think it was anything more than just a fuck? Like, be for real, shorty. Don’t be weird.”

He tapped his pocket for a roll and peeled off bills for me without counting. He didn’t look at Ashley again. He didn’t look at anyone, as a matter of fact.

“I’ll call before I swing for bro,” he mentioned. “We’re leaving out tonight.”

“Okay, cool,” I stated, keeping my face clean of judgment.

He walked straight out of the door with his head held high, like he hadn’t just embarrassed that poor girl. The salon exhaled in whispers and little gasps. Ashley stood like a statue, with confusion and hurt written all over her face.

“Nah, see? Nah,” she started with her voice shaking. “Who does he think he is? He gon’ play me like I’m?—”

“Ashley,” Talina was already moving toward her with her hands up. “Come on, sis. Let’s go to the back.”

“Play with his mama, not me,” Ashley hissed, jerking away but going with us anyway. “I’m not one of them. I swear to God, I’ma get him f?—”

“Hey,” I snapped, and it cut through the air. I didn’t raise my voice often, so when I did, people listened. “Watch your mouth.”

We slipped into the back break room, closing the door behind us.

“One, his mom is dead. Two, don’t make threats about my family,” I warned.

I nudged Ashley into a chair by the little kitchenette, and Talina leaned on the counter with her arms folded.

“Breathe,” Talina told her.

Ashley’s breaths came chop-chop, then leveled into shaky longs. She wiped under one eye, smearing her liner.

“I’m not a groupie,” she started, voice lower than that time. “I’m not. He ain’t gotta play me like that.”

“Nobody said you were a groupie,” I replied, low. “We talkin’ respect and safety.”

“Safety?” Her laugh was dry. “I said I’ma get him?—”

“And that right there is what you not gon’ say in my shop again,” I cut in. “Not about him, not about anybody. You hear me?”

Ashley blinked like she hadn’t expected me to respond the way I did. “Why? Y’all scared of him or somethin’?”

Talina and I made eye contact. It was one of those unspoken conversations in a blink.

“Ash,” Talina said carefully, “you don’t know him.”

“I know enough to know he’s disrespectful as fuck,” Ashley shot back.

“And I know enough to know you need to let that whole situation go,” I uttered. My voice softened, but it remained firm. “Ain’t no loss in takin’ a loss, you feel me? It’s an L that would save you from a bigger one down the road.”

Ashley stared, then slumped, the fury draining out like someone popped a valve.

She pressed her palms over her eyes, and her glossed lips trembled again.

She was young, not in age, but in the game, in the way a man with presence can make you think you’re extra special for a night and then remind you he never promised you anything in the morning.

“He coulda just said hi,” she murmured into her hands.

“He coulda,” I agreed, “but he didn’t. You’ve got two choices. Are you gon’ match bad energy with bad energy... or are you gon’ protect your peace and your bag?”

“I just... I be feelin’ like men get to do whatever, and we gotta smile and swallow it.”

“That’s not what I’m tellin’ you to do,” I countered. “I’m telling you to pick your fights like you pick your lace, very carefully. You said something in front of the whole salon that coulda went left. I pulled you back here, so it didn’t.”

Talina slid a bottle of water across the counter. “Drink, then go take a walk around the block and come back when you’re cool.”

Ashley sniffed and took it, gulping. “He ain’t nobody,” she muttered, but weaker, almost to herself. “He ain’t?—”

I touched her shoulder. “He’s somebody, boo. Just not your body, you get me?”