In The Cut (10 page)

“I don’t need money.”

“What about power?”

“I almost made you shit your pants. I think I have enough power.”

Marion smiled. “You’re that loyal to Josephine?”

“No, I just don’t like you.”

Marion busted out laughing. “I can have you and everyone in this salon killed with a snap of a finger.”

“And I can kill you with the pull of a finger,” Saint said, aiming an imaginary gun at him and pulling the trigger.

“And how will you make it out of here alive?”

“I’ll walk out the front door.”

“Impossible!”

“Doing the impossible is what makes me the best at what I do.”

Marion regarded him curiously, and then busted out laughing again. “I am just messing with you.”

“I think it’s time for you and your people to go. You’ve kept your end of the deal by stopping by.”

“Yes, I have. And I do have a couple more stops to make before I prepare to fly back to France.”

“Have a safe flight home,” Saint said, extending his hand. Marion grabbed it and stood up. “If you ever change your mind—”

“Good bye, Mr. Claude.”

After Marion Claude left, Olivia came in with the boxes of gifts and placed them on her desk. “Can you believe all of this?”

“I told you what to expect.”

“Yes, but there are pieces of jewelry here that costs over a thousand dollars.”

“It didn’t cost them a penny. They get that stuff for free. Jewelers give them pieces for their models to wear. For every piece a jeweler gives them, they’re guaranteed at least twenty sales.”

“After today, my salon is going to be the hottest spot in the country. Thank you, Clayton.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“No, I do.” She walked up to him and ran both of her hands up his chest and around his shoulders. She got on her tiptoes and kissed him. Saint stood ridged, but the softness of her lips… He leaned into her and held her tight as he kissed her back.

“Yo, sis,” Jon-Jon said, as he opened the door and started to walk in.

“Jon-Jon! What I tell you about barging into my office?”

Saint pulled away from her.

“Damn, sis, this is your office not your bedroom.”

“I think I better go,” Saint said, heading out.

Jon-Jon gave him a hard stare. “I got my eye on you, bean counter.” He bumped him as he walked by.

Saint walked out onto the sidewalk in time to see Marion Claude climbing into his limo. Marion waved at him. Saint restrained himself from sticking his middle finger up.

“What’s up, chief?” Saint looked around and saw brother number two. “My name’s Mike, but people around here call me Big Mike.” He extended his ham-sized hand.

“Clayton Andrews,” Saint said as he watched his hand disappear into the palm of giant’s hand.

Big Mike squeezed his hand a little harder than normal, while making one of his pecs jump.

Saint bit his tongue to keep from laughing in his face. “I’d hate to be on the wrong side of one of them clubs,” he said with a smile.

“It wouldn’t be a pretty sight. Especially for somebody with a pretty face like yourself.”

“I’m a law abiding citizen so I won’t have to worry about that.”

“You try to play my sister, and a busted face will be the least of your injuries.”

Saint seized the opening and took it. “First, your brother in there threatens me, now you threaten me. I don’t take too kind to threats.”

Mike folded his arms on his chest. “I don’t care what you don’t take too kind to.”

“You know what? I don’t have to take this. Tell your sister it was nice knowing her.”

“It will be my pleasure, pretty boy.”

Saint stormed off. That was the easy part. The hard part would be having the willpower not to answer his cell when Olivia called.

She called him three times on his cell before he made it to his apartment. She left a message on his voice mail on the last attempt. When he got home, he took off his suit and ceremoniously placed it in its garment bag and then hung it up in his closet. His home phone rang.

“You got a lot of nerve,” he said before the person on the other end could get a word out.

“Saint,” Josephine purred.

“There was no reason for you to call Marion Claude, and tell him about me.”

“I did you a favor.”

“What?”

“Petrescu wanted some payback. It seems that he can’t let Glenn walk around unpunished for what he did to him five years ago. He’d convinced Claude to arrange an ‘attempt robbery’ on your beloved friend where both his hands were to be broken.”

Saint didn’t say a word.

“You know I’m telling you the truth, my love. I’ve never lied to you, and I never will. When Marion found out how you ‘slipped’ past his security, not only did he arrange to have the head of his security fired, but he had both his hands broken.”

“If what you’re saying is true, you can’t hold that over my head. I owe you nothing.”

“All I want from you is what we agreed upon. Saint is dead. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

Chapter 6

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you and fuck you,” Olivia said, pointing to each of her brothers.

“Olivia don’t play yourself,” Jon-Jon said.

“Play myself? No, Jon-Jon, because of all of you, all I can do is play
with
myself.”

“Oh, God, sis,” David, the oldest of the brothers, said, twisting his face in disgust. “We don’t need to hear that.”

“Oh no, you’re going to hear it. That’s why I called this meeting.” She pointed to her second oldest brother. “Shawn, you’ve been happily married for what, seven years?”

“Yeah.”

“And you, David. You’re married and have two kids with Toya. Mike, you’re not married to Mia, but you two have been together for years. Even Jon-Jon’s nasty ass has a girlfriend. All of you have someone. I’ve never, ever budded into your relationships.”

“We’re different, Olivia—” Mike started to say.

“Different my ass.”

“We don’t have shit,” Jon-Jon said, “So, the women we’re with can’t get shit. If a nigga gets with you and decides he wants a divorce, he’s taking half our shit.”

“Our shit? I just heard you say you didn’t have shit,” Olivia said.

“I’m talking about the business.”

“You’re talking about
my
business.”

“It’s like that?” David asked.

“Yeah, it’s like that. Everyone here has their life. Butta Cutz is mine. I appreciate the way y’all regulate, making sure dudes don’t come in here and try to play themselves, but y’all can’t regulate my personal life. Not anymore. Clayton is a good man.”

“I don’t like him,” Mike snorted.

“Me neither,” Jon-Jon chimed in.

“Don’t you get it? I don’t give a fuck who you like and don’t like. It stops today. My personal life is off limits. I see who I want to see. Are we clear on that?” None of them responded. “I said are we clear?” She slammed her fists on her desk and shot out of her chair.

“Yo, what the fuck?” Jon-Jon said startled.

“All right, sis,” David said. “We got that. Your personal life is off limits. Just calm down before you pop a blood vessel.”

“Word,” Shawn said. “You said the word fuck like a hundred times.”

Olivia flopped back down into her chair. “Get the hell out of my office.”

The brothers looked at each other for a minute. One by one, they got up and left.

Olivia leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She tilted her head to the side and massaged her neck. Her massage didn’t come close to Saint’s. She cut her eyes at her phone. With a sigh, she leaned forward and picked it up. She dialed his cell phone, praying he would answer. On the tenth ring, she hung up and cursed Mike. Her blood pressure almost shot out of the roof yesterday when he came strutting back into Butta Cutz and told her that “Mr. Clayton Andrews won’t be showing his pretty face around here anymore.” She wanted to be mad at Clayton, but she couldn’t. What he was doing was the typical response a lot of men did when they met her brothers. She picked up her phone and dialed one more number.

“Hello.”

“Glenn, its Olivia.”

“Hi, how you doing?”

“I’m doing great. Miki couldn’t wait to show me the big article they ran in the Daily News this morning. It’s on page three.”

“I got to pick it up and read it when I get a chance.”

“Do me a favor when you get a chance.”

“Anything.”

“Tell your friend. If he doesn’t want to see me, be a man and tell me to my face.”

“Olivia—”

“Just give him that message for me, will you?”

“Of course.”

Olivia hung up. A moment later, line one on her phone lit up.

“What’s up, Miki?”

“We got a walk in. He insists that he will only let you cut his hair.”

“What’s his name?”

“Byron Turner.”

Olivia dropped her head. “Have Chuck sit him in my chair. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Gotcha.”

As she neared her chair, she heard Byron shooting some weak game at Lynise, to which she politely smiled. His attention quickly turned to Olivia as he saw her coming his way.

“Hey, you,” he said getting out of the chair to shake her hand. “Congratulations on making this morning’s paper.”

“Thank you.”

“I made some calls to my buddies in California, Philly, Detroit and Washington. They’re in.”

“In for what?”

“What I’ve been trying to tell you all along. Making Butta Cutz a franchise. In ten years we can have a Butta Cutz in all the major cities.”

“Why would you make all these calls and deals without first consulting me? All you did was waste your time.”

“Wait Olivia—”

“No, Byron. We’re going to get something straight, right now. We’re not doing business together and we are never going to do business together.”

“It’s like that?”

“And then some.”

“Will can you at least discuss it with you husband?”

She flashed him a stink smile. “I consult no one, and all of my decisions are final. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Olivia walked away.

“What about my haircut?”

“Lynise will take care of you, won’t you, Lynise?”

“Yes, Miss Martin.”

“Baby!”

“Yeah, ma.”

“Caffeine, please.”

“Gotcha, ma.”

Saint just pulled up into the parking lot of the Adult Learning Center when his cell phone vibrated.

“What’s up, Glenn?”

“How do you sleep at night?”

“Very well, thanks for asking.”

“Olivia just called me. She told me to give you a message.”

“What is it?”

“Be a man and tell her to her face that it’s over.”

“Over? There wasn’t anything between us.”

“You lie like a rug.”

“I got to go, Glenn.”

“Seriously, Saint. If this is how you’re going to play it, at least respect her enough to tell her to her face.”

“Talk to you later, Glenn.”

Saint stood in front of Butta Cutz. After hanging up with Glenn, he knew he was right. She deserved an explanation, even if it was going to be a lie. He ended class at two o’clock, and then headed to his apartment to change into an accountant-appropriate suit.

Miki was at the reception desk leafing through a Vibe magazine when he walked in. She looked up from the article she was reading and flashed him an I-want-to-eat-you-alive grin.

“Hi, Miki, how are you doing?” He asked approaching the desk.

“Fantabulous.”

“Is Olivia around?”

Miki looked up, “She’s upstairs, said she doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“I really need to speak with her.”

“She’s, like supermangry, right now.”

“Super what?”

“Super mad angry. And I think it’s got something to do with you.”

“Think so?”

“She drew a picture of your face.”

“What does that mean?”

“She draws pictures of people when they piss her off, and she tapes them to her heavy bag, and she, you know…” Miki threw a couple jabs.

“Are you serious?”

“You might want to come back tomorrow.”

“Miki, I really need to see her now.”

Miki looked up toward the ceiling, imagining the work Olivia was putting in on that heavy bag and shuddered. “Esther, cover me for a minute.”

“Sure, no problem.”

Miki walked from behind the reception desk with a key in her hand. “When we get up there, you make sure you stand in front of me. She’s got a wicked left hook, and I’m not trying to get caught with one of them.”