Retribution (8 page)

She coughs, almost choking on the piece of candy in her mouth. “Girl, no; especially not after all that mess that went down with me and Paris.”

She's referring to the shit that happened at my wedding reception with her sister finding out that she had been fucking the guy she was digging. The same guy who just happened to also be in my wedding party because he's another one of Jasper's first cousins.
Desmond. I didn't see how it all went down that night since I was too busy pretending to be the happy bride in the midst of over a hundred guests. But from what gossiping-ass Felecia had told me and from what I heard from other family members, it got real messy. Apparently, Paris had met Desmond when he came into her boutique, Paradise, to pick up a handbag for his mother. A few days later, she fucked him and hadn't told her sisters about him because she didn't want to share him with them since that was their MO—you fuck one of them, you fuck all three of them.

The three of them really took sharing men to a whole other level. But who am I to judge? I have my own indiscretions.

Anyway, the condensed version of the story is, while Paris was off raw dogging Desmond behind her sisters' backs, she ended up getting pregnant. But, Desmond somehow stopped calling or coming down to her boutique where they would fuck. So she thought he had simply moved on to the next or dropped off the face of the earth.

But, baby, the shit hit the fan—right there at my reception, when Paris found out that the reason she hadn't heard any more from him was because he was too busy being sexed down by Persia's messy ass pretending to be her. And because they're identical triplets he couldn't tell them apart. But, from what Jasper told me, Desmond backed off when, whom he thought was Paris, wanted him to fuck her rough, choke her up, slap her titties up, spit in her asshole and fuck her in it, and call her all kinds of slutty names. He told Jasper he wasn't with that extra shit. Not on a regular, anyway.

Of course when Desmond found out that he'd been fucking Persia all them weeks and not Paris, he was all fucked up behind it. I had overheard him telling Jasper that he loved Paris and wanted to raise his son with her. But I also overheard him telling
Jasper how Persia still looks at him like she wants some more of the dick. I wouldn't put it past her ass, either.

Talk about scandalous!

Persia shakes her head, scrolling through her phone. “So, no, girl, there's no more man swapping going on. Porsha is all in love with Emerson. She's busy planning their wedding…”

“Wedding?
Get out! I had no clue. That's fabulous. Have they set a date?”

“No, not yet. But I know she wants it to be in either the spring or early fall of next year. They recently closed on a house out in Fort Lee.”

“Oooh, I really like that area. Good for them.”

“Yes. I'm happy for her.”

“And how's Paris and the baby doing?”

“Oh, they're doing great. Lil Desmond is so adorable. And spoiled rotten.”

“I'm sure he is.” I ask her how she and Paris are making out, if they've been able to work through their differences, and repair their relationship.

“Things with us have gotten much better. That whole mess really shook our relationship.”

I shake my head, placing Persia's head under the water. “I'm sure it did. It became the talk for most of the night at my reception. You know that kept the family's gossip mill going for weeks after that.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “Girl, don't remind me. I apologize about that. I really wish things would have turned out differently that night.”

Mmmph. Then you shouldn't have done what you did.
Of course, I'm not really in a position to say much so I keep my thoughts to myself.

Seems like messy runs in our family.

A quiet bitch can turn out to be the most treacherous bitch…

“G
irl, I've been dying to ask since I walked up in here,” Persia says as I'm putting the final touches on her new do. “What happened between you and Felecia? You know Aunt Lucky burned a hole in my mother's ear about you slapping her face and firing her. Tell me it ain't so, girl.”

“Mmmph, I don't even want to get into it. But whatever you heard, it's true. That bitch no longer works here. And I don't want that two-faced ass anywhere around me.”

“Pasha, but she's still family.”

I blink, tilting my head. “Oh, like you and Zena, right?” Zena is another cousin of ours. The two of them have hated each other since childhood. Well, it got worse in high school, when Persia, once again, fucked this boy Zena liked. But in Persia's mind he was fair game since he didn't know Zena had a thing for him. Persia didn't really want him but since Zena told her to stay away from him, Persia chose to do the opposite. She fucked him instead. Even though Zena ended up marrying him—well, they're in the process of a divorce now for some messy shit she did—she never got over what Persia did.

Persia shrugs. “Well, that's different. You and Felecia were practically raised like sisters.”

“We
were
like sisters. And the bitch turned on me. And from what I'm hearing she fucked Jasper at some point as well.”
And your messy ass knows all about fucking someone else's man.

“How do you know this?” I tell her I got it from a reliable source. She eyes me through the mirror. “And you
believe
this
source?”

I nod. “I sure do. The person who told me has no reason to make the shit up. And, to be honest with you, the more I think about how Felecia was always eyeing Jasper, I believe the shit's true. She either fucked him, had his dick stuffed in her throat, or both.”

“Ooh, that bitch is scandalous. I don't want to even think she'd be damn dirty to do some shit like that to you. Gossiping, yes. Fucking your man, let's hope not.”

Girl, please. You have some nerve!

“Did you at least ask her? I mean, did she admit to it?”

I frown. “I
know
that bitch did it. My gut says she did. And even if she didn't, she was still doing shit behind my back that she had no business doing. So, let's leave it at that.”

“Girl, I didn't mean to get you going. I had no idea.” I wave her on. Tell her that it is what it is. I spin her around in the chair, then finish tapering her neck with the clippers. “I hear you. Well, between you and me, you know Paris is still kinda pissed at her ass for gossiping about us to that chick she was with at your wedding.”

“Which chick? Cassandra?”

“I don't know what her name is. But she was the chick with the real big ass. The one who wore that fly-ass white dress and had almost every woman at the reception ready to poke their man's eyes out for struggling to keep them off her ass.”

I chuckle. “Oh, you're talking about Big Booty. Uh, I mean Cassandra.”

“You had it right the first time.
Big Booty.
Yeah, her. That chick
knows she has an ass on her. Mmmph. Well, anyway, she ran into Paris and Desmond at Short Hills a couple of weeks ago and told Paris that she and Felecia had been talking about how messy I was for fucking her man. Then that ghetto-trick told Paris that she had better watch
me
around Desmond because I was a messy bitch, or something like that. Can you believe that shit? Who the fuck is she? The nerve of that bitch! All I know is, Paris was hot. And that shit didn't sit well with me, either.”

Well, shit. It's the truth. And, yeah, I can believe it. After that stunt you pulled, Paris should be watching your sneaky-ass like a damn hawk.

I decide to keep this to myself. “Well, Felecia had no business running her mouth to Cass about that. But that's what that bitch does. Runs her goddamn mouth. Listen. I don't want to waste any more air space talking about that bitch. She's dead to me. And I mean that.”

“Girl, that's fine by me. She deserves whatever she gets.”

I purse my lips. Nothing more needs to be said on the matter. Persia and I move on to other things like work, her plans for the future, business down at the boutique she owns with her sisters, etc. Forty-five minutes later, her new look is complete.

“Girrrl, you laid this hair out,” she says, looking in the handheld mirror, then handing it back to me. “I feel naked without all my hair. But I am loving my new look.”

I smile. Tell her I'm glad she likes it. Then I walk her up front to the register so that she can pay for my services. She hands me a twenty-dollar tip. We hug. Promise to do better staying in touch, which is something we always say, but never follow through with.

“Well, now that you have this sexy little cut, you'll need to maintain it at least every two weeks to keep it looking fresh and sassy.”

She laughs. “And we know how sassy I am. So I guess I'll see you
in two weeks then.” We hug again. Then she's out the door. I watch as her boy-toy hops out of the car, grinning from ear to ear. He says something to her as he opens her door for her. She smiles, then I see her grab at his dick on the sly as she slides into the passenger seat. He shuts the door for her, then hops back in his big-body BMW, taking off. I keep watching until his rear tag R
OYCE
disappears from my view.

I smile, truly happy for her.
Looks like Persia got herself a keeper,
I think as I head back to my workstation with my next client following behind me.
Let's hope she doesn't fuck him over.

The rest of the morning flies by without incident. But the afternoon heats up real quick. The salon is packed, the way I love it. Every stylist's chair is full; the manicurists and pedicurists are all booked solid.

By the time we close the shop's doors at eight o'clock, I'm exhausted. And the only thing I want to do is take my ass home. But I know Mona is on her way over. So I'm sitting at my desk with my heels off, feet propped up on the desk, waiting.

Jasper's called me three times already, talking shit about me coming straight home so he can run the streets, talking about he has some business to handle. Fuck him. I told him I had a late appointment, and couldn't change it. Whether the nigga believed me or not is not my concern. Knowing his ass, he probably has one of his goons eyeing the salon, and trailing me. Ever since my kidnapping, I'm extra cautious. I'm always looking over my shoulder, always double-checking locks, and I never leave home without my weapon tucked in my purse. I also keep one here in my office locked in my top drawer.

The good thing is, I have three security guards, standing over six feet and stacked with rock-hard muscle working here. And
they are all armed. And one is always here with me at night to make sure I get to my car safely. Then for extra safety measures, after someone bust out the front window of my salon last year, I had security cameras installed out in front of the salon and in the parking lot area. Shit, I wish I had all this security before I started getting all those harassing phone calls, and…the fliers.

I try to swallow back the memory, but it comes rushing up like hot lava. F
OR THE BEST HEAD IN TOWN
, P
ASHA
A
LLEN
'
S GOT THE DICK SUCKING GAME ON LOCK…FOR THAT 24 HOUR DICK WASH, COME THRU NAPPY NO MORE…

Hundreds of fliers with all kinds of disrespectful shit about my dick sucking were literally plastered all over the outside of the salon's windows and door. The nigga behind it was scorned because I didn't want to give him another round of head when he hit my email up asking for some more of this throat.

The nigga would have never found out who I really was if I hadn't participated in Nana's Missionary Day program and let the press snap photos of me. My face was plastered all over the
COMMUNITY SECTION
of the paper. That started the beginning of my troubles. First the phone calls to the salon, then the harassing letters, then some nigga walking up into my salon calling me out in front of all of my clients. All that because of some lunatic-ass nigga being pissed that I wouldn't spin his top again.

“…I'm gonna keep fucking with you until you do…” he warned, before hanging up on me.

Three hours later, someone tossed a metal pipe through the front window of the salon, smashing glass everywhere. Of course, no one was able to give a description of the nigga who did the shit, other than he was short and dark-skinned, wearing a hoodie.

Then, miraculously—out of nowhere, Jasper and Stax show up
here.
No, that shit wasn't coincidence. And it wasn't a damn miracle. That shit was planned.
The nigga was toying with me.
It had to be Jasper behind it.
After everything that has happened, I can't put it past him. I slept on that nigga once, but not again.

And,
now
…I got his ass sleeping on
me
.

Karma is that cold bitch that'll make sure a dirty nigga gets what he gets…

“H
ey, Pasha,” Lamar says, knocking on the door to my office as he pops his head in. I take in his six-foot-four frame, his smooth dark-chocolate skin tone, broad nose, and thick lips. His dreads are pulled back with a leather band, the tips dyed blond. He's definitely eye candy for the women who come into the salon. “Do you still want me to hang around until you're finished up?” He steps back to let Mona by. She's fifteen minutes late.

“Hey, girl,” she says, taking a seat on the leather sofa. She sits back, crossing her legs. She looks stressed out. Her eyes are red and puffy as if she's been crying. Something is clearly weighing heavy on her mind.

“Hey, you,” I say, glancing at her, then back at Lamar. “Yes, please, if you don't mind. I'll have a little something extra for you when I'm done.”