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Authors: Tracy Brown

BOOK: Twisted
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On the other hand, Keisha, the southern belle,
craved
marriage to a wealthy man and socialite status. To her, marriage was the golden carrot that every woman should be in pursuit of until she got it. Keisha couldn't understand her friend's desire to remain single and date without commitment.
Anyone who knew Celeste could attest to the fact that she was staunchly independent. Despite the fact that a man had financed her lifestyle for several years, it had been Celeste who had made the dream of owning her own salon a reality. She had been responsible for the decor, the ambiance, and it was she who had chosen the best stylists in Brooklyn to keep the clientele consistent. Celeste was a visionary. Always had been, always would be. In her youth, Celeste had been a straight-A student, a popular girl among her peers. She was well behaved and seldom rocked the boat for her single mother, Zara Styles.
Celeste had been raised by her mother and her grandmother, and their maternal wisdom had served her well. While many of her peers were getting high, getting in trouble, or getting pregnant, Celeste had had her head in the books and her future clearly mapped out for herself. She had envisioned herself as a successful businesswoman from an early age. She pictured herself in pricey shoes, strutting into a boardroom and setting her expensive briefcase down on the table, wowing the crowd of stiff suited businessmen with her knowledge and her expertise. Celeste had been ready for the world in those days. And then she'd been sidetracked by her love for a thug. When she fell in love with Rah-lo, college had fallen by the wayside, much to her mother's chagrin. Celeste had given up her collegiate dreams in search of the American dream—or at least a ghetto-fabulous version of it.
Now, years later, she was back on track. But she was still
having the sweetest dreams about one man in particular. In her dreams, they made love with a passion that blew her mind. He would hold her and she would feel so safe and loved. Then she'd wake up and find herself living a beautiful life in a beautiful city, and still feeling empty despite it all.
Celeste thought often about the man in her dreams. Rah-lo had been her everything. She remembered the night she met him so many years ago. He was so thugged-out, so sexy. Out for a night on the town in New York with her girlfriends, Celeste had found herself in Staten Island's notorious Park Hill section. As she sauntered across busy Targee Street in search of a pay phone, several men had called out to her, hoping for a chance to talk to the pretty young stranger in their midst. They called out to her from across the street.
“Let me holla at you.”
“Damn, baby! You
wearin'
them jeans!”
“Can I talk to you?”
She was flattered, but she didn't respond to men who called her out that way. She felt that she was too classy a bitch to answer these types of greetings. Approaching the pay phone, she prepared to place her call but noticed a tall and rather handsome guy crossing the street in her direction. She thought his walk was sexy as hell.
“Excuse me. Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked. The smirk on his face was a mixture of flirtation and mischief. “Don't listen to them. It ain't every day that they see somebody as fly as you are stepping out on the block. My
name is Rah-lo.” He extended his hand and Celeste hesitated before she shook it. She looked him over, feeling strangely attracted to this rugged stranger with a mischievous grin on his face. “You ain't gonna tell me your name?” he asked.
She smiled and told him her name. She took in his attire—a black hoodie, jeans, and Timbs. A typical block hugger, she surmised. But his smile was disarming, and she was impressed that he'd had the guts to cross the street and risk rejection in front of all of his friends. All of his boys stood on the opposite sidewalk, watching to see what would happen. She liked a confident man, and the one standing before her exuded not only confidence but cockiness as well. His arrogance coupled with his charm was irresistible. She liked his style. So she engaged him in conversation, and when he walked away he had her number. And Celeste had been with him from that day forward.
But not now. Still, Celeste thought about him all the time. She might see a designer handbag she couldn't fit into her budget and she would recall how Rah-lo had spoiled her, lavished her with all the material things a woman would want. She had never had to concern herself with such trivial things as budgets or financial limitations when they were together. She had lived in his large home on Staten Island, New York, and she had been Rah-lo's well-kept secret. He took care of her, buying her cars and jewelry, supplying her every need. He had bankrolled her hair salon—Dime Piece—as a gift to her, and he made sure that she had any
and every material thing she wanted. But what she hadn't had was his time. She hadn't had his love exclusively. And she hadn't had the title. Asia was his wife. Celeste had been little more than his chick on the side.
Secretly, the one thing she had yearned for most of her life was a father. She had never known her dad and had often envied the few of her friends who had fathers active in their lives. More than anything, Celeste had always wanted the luxury of being Daddy's little girl, being spoiled and taken care of. She had never had many friendships with females. They had always proven themselves to be jealous or untrustworthy. Friendship, popularity, belonging to a clique—those things had never been of importance to Celeste. That was one of the reasons she had managed to keep her head in her hair salon amid the stylists' constant bickering and cattiness. Celeste was always able to tune them out. She didn't need or long for girlfriends. But she did long for her father. Although her mother and grandmother had done an outstanding job of raising Celeste to be a strong and respectable woman, she still had a void where her dad should have been.
Celeste had always shared an open and honest relationship with her mother. So when Celeste had fallen in love with Rah-lo she had never hidden his marital status from her mom. She told her the truth of what she was dealing with. Her mother, of course, disapproved. Not only because Rah-lo was a married man. But also because he made his living in the streets—something that Ms. Styles had always wanted her
daughter to steer clear of. Celeste was an intelligent young lady with a bright future ahead of her when she met Rah-lo. Her mother saw her daughter's potential and couldn't help being disappointed in her choice of whom she'd given her heart to. But Ms. Styles didn't protest too loudly. After all, Celeste was an adult. She had made her decision. And Ms. Styles knew all too well that when a woman gave her heart to a man, wild horses wouldn't be able to tear her away.
In the months before Celeste decided to leave New York City, Zara had noticed that Celeste's lifestyle was wearing her down. Without being told, Zara could sense that her daughter was fed up. She could tell by the forlorn look on her daughter's face every time she saw her. It hadn't always been that way. In the beginning of their relationship, Rah-lo had Celeste floating on a cloud. The pure happiness that she felt from being loved by him was evident in her smile. Celeste had always smiled back then. She had always been optimistic that the situation was only temporary. Rah-lo would leave Asia eventually. Celeste had believed that Rah-lo couldn't love her like he did and not want to be with her exclusively. Naively, she had held out hope. But that hope had begun to fade. And Celeste's mother knew long before Celeste ever told her. When Dime Piece had burned down, Celeste had been sad but also oddly relieved. For the first time, Celeste began to talk about needing a change. Zara saw it as the perfect opportunity for her daughter to start over. Zara and her aging mother were moving to Atlanta. Celeste's mother invited Celeste to come
along and prayed hard that she would accept her invitation. When Celeste had finally called to say that she was coming to Atlanta and leaving Rah-lo behind, Zara had danced and shouted around her house like a church lady filled with the Holy Ghost. She couldn't have been happier.
Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Celeste. When she had first left Rah-lo, she had felt so many different emotions. Happiness was not among them. She felt hurt that Rah-lo hadn't loved her enough to leave his wife. Celeste had believed that he loved her. But obviously not as much as she had loved him, because if he had, he never could have continued in an “empty” marriage with another woman. Celeste was also angry with herself for the choices she'd made, angry about all the times she had allowed herself to be taken for granted.
Part of her hoped that he would come after her, that he would somehow find her and rush in, declaring his love for her. But part of her was relieved to be free of him. She felt like she had sold herself short in some ways. True, she was living an enviable lifestyle. She had all the material things any woman could ever yearn for. But how she'd gotten those things weighed heavily on her conscience. In the beginning, she hadn't let herself think about it. She told herself that Rah-lo was the one selling drugs, not her. She convinced herself that dropping out of college hadn't been a mistake, reasoning that Rah-lo had been a fast track to the life she would have inevitably led eventually. But when she really thought about it, she was merely a mistress with a bunch of meaningless perks.
The salon was hers, but she hadn't earned it. The clothes and jewelry were beautiful, but she would have given them all back to have Rah-lo as her man exclusively. Celeste had been feeling so trapped with Rah-lo, so stuck and stagnant. And life was too short to continue feeling that way.
Rah-lo had protected her and cared for her and she admitted to herself that in some twisted way Rah-lo had been the daddy she had longed for for so long. In so many ways Rah-lo had raised her. He had taught her the ways of the streets and the ins and outs of being a hustler. And Celeste still carried that hustler's spirit with her to this day. For that, she would be forever grateful to Rah-lo.
Celeste loved him with all of her heart. But she had begun to ask herself if love was enough. Atlanta offered her a clean slate. It was time for her to stand on her own two feet for once. This time she would be a success without the security of a relationship. She was a single woman surrounded by wealthy and accomplished single men. Celeste dove right in.
Now, four years had passed since she'd left the man and the city she loved behind. And no matter how she tried to get him off her mind, Rah-lo was still there. He would invade her thoughts at odd moments, and she quickly brushed those thoughts aside. But he was there in her dreams, kissing her just the way she needed to be kissed and spanking her when she needed to be spanked. He had never needed instructions or guidance. He just knew. That excited Celeste, and that excitement was something that no other man had been able to
duplicate for her. She dated different men and moved on with her life. But none of them were
him
. Damon was sexy, tough, well-groomed, and a very successful businessman. But to Celeste, sex with him lacked much excitement—because she was comparing him to Rah-lo. On the surface, she had moved on. But on the inside, she hated herself for still holding on to the long-ago love that she had hoped would fade with time.
But as she and Keisha climbed into Keisha's truck and buckled up for the ride home, Celeste gazed out the window and smiled. She hoped that Bryson would be the perfect candidate to fill the void in her life. Thinking about his smile—and his black card—Celeste hoped he'd be the one to sweep her off her feet.
 
 
Just Like Old Times
Brooklyn, New York
 
“H
ow can I love somebody else …”
“Mary J. Blige is the truth! She said a bitch gotta love herself before she try to love anybody else.” Charly Hanson snapped her fingers to the beat of the song “Be Happy” playing on the hair salon's radio. Her hair salon, Charly's, was packed with saints and sinners alike, but all Charly saw was dollar signs. She didn't notice some of her patrons wincing as she referred to women as “bitches” within the earshot of a few church ladies and several children. Charly didn't care. It was
her
shop. And she did as she damn well pleased.
People knew this about her and they still kept coming each week. That was because the stylists in her shop were some of Brooklyn's finest. Dimitri and Lauren had the cuts and weaves on lock. Tina's clientele was composed of mostly kids and old church ladies. And Charly's friend Robin handled braids, dreads, and natural styles. Charly had an interesting relationship with Robin. While they had bonded during the time they worked together at Dime Piece, things between them had changed.
There was a sense of friendly competition between the two of them. Charly was single and loving it. She was successful with her salon and she looked better than ever. She had no children, no steady man, nothing tying her down. Charly partied hard and traveled often. She shopped constantly and ate dinner out at restaurants far more than she ever cooked at home. And because of her looks, she had men lavishing her with these things. Charly was good at what she did. She liked to say that she had a hustler's spirit.
Robin, on the other hand, was more humble. She was the single parent of her son, Hezekiah. She loved him tremendously and her life felt fuller with him in it. Robin worked hard to keep him dressed well, eating right, and looking good. He went to private school, played in a football league, and scored excellent grades. She had never expected to be a single parent. But his father had died while Hezekiah was just an infant, and she was forced to do it all on her own. She had the odds stacked against her, but she managed to keep her
head above water. And Robin was focused. She had gone back to school, paying her younger sister a tidy sum to babysit Hezekiah while she did so. Robin worked hard and made good money. And instead of spending it on frivolous fashions and costly baubles the way that Charly did, Robin invested in her education. Now it was paying off. She was about to graduate from John Jay College and she knew that Charly was hating that. Robin was doing more as a single mother than Charly could ever accomplish with no one to worry about besides herself. Robin wore her education as a badge of honor, which only grated on Charly's nerves.
“Robin, you need to sweep all this hair up off the floor between clients.” Charly's face was twisted into a disgusted grimace. “This shit looks horrible.” Her tone was condescending and everyone noticed.
Robin kept right on braiding extensions into her client's hair, ignoring Charly's comments. This only further pissed Charly off.
“Hellooooooo,” Charly said.
“I heard you,” Robin replied, locking eyes with Charly. “When I'm done, I'll sweep it all up. Okay?”
Charly wanted to curse her out, but Robin hadn't given her a good enough reason to. Instead, she rolled her eyes and walked away. Just then, fine-ass Ishmael Wright walked through the door of the salon, bringing almost all chatter to a complete halt. Charly felt a shiver go down her spine as she looked him over from head to toe. Charly and Ishmael had
shared an intense sexual relationship years ago. For Charly, it had been so much more than just that. For her, it had been love, for the first time in her life. Unfortunately, Ishmael didn't share the sentiment, and he had broken her heart. At least that was Charly's version of events.
During her time as a stylist at Celeste's shop, Dime Piece, Charly and all the other stylists had come to know Ishmael as a friend of Celeste's man, Rah-lo. When Rah-lo went to jail, Ishmael came by the shop often to escort Celeste upstate or to drop off messages or gifts from Rah-lo. In that capacity, Ishmael spent a lot of time with Celeste. In turn, Ishmael spent a lot of time at the salon. And one by one he had sampled the stylists. Charly had been first, and that distinction meant something to Charly. She and Ishmael had shared subtle flirting that blossomed into a sexual relationship. They had gone out a couple of times—dinner and a movie for the most part. Ishmael had bought her pricey gifts and even given her a car to drive when hers was giving her trouble. But Charly had bragged about his generosity in the shop, and when Ishmael became aware of that he was turned off. Then she began to exhibit jealous and possessive behavior, which was the final straw for Ishmael. What had started as something fun and passionate had turned into something ugly, and he was finished. Ishmael dumped Charly.
Next he slept with Robin, although that had only been a one-night stand. And after their physical encounter, Ishmael moved on to Nina. Nina Lords was a lovely girl with a
troubled past who had somehow gotten the notorious playboy to settle down. She had also been one of the best stylists at Dime Piece, working with and sparring with both Robin and Charly. It was Ishmael who had come between the women at that time, and he and Nina were still together after all these years. Which was why Charly couldn't understand seeing him walk through the doors of her salon now.
She strutted over to him and smiled sexily. “You must be lost, sir,” she joked, pointing at the sign above the door. “This is Charly's beauty salon, not Nappy Nina's.”
Ishmael smiled. Nina's hair salon (which he had financed for her, just as Rah-lo had done for Celeste) was located just a block away from Charly's. He was taking a chance by coming in there today, since Nina would surely have a fit if she knew that he was seen anywhere near her rival. “Hello, Charly. Good to see you again.” Ishmael gave her a friendly kiss on her cheek. “I actually came to see Robin.”
Charly's jaw immediately clenched. She glanced over her shoulder at Robin, who was smiling at Ishmael from her station in the back of the shop as she continued braiding her client's hair. Robin winked at the both of them and chewed her gum giddily. She knew that Charly wanted to gag.
Ishmael walked past Charly and over to Robin. Charly was tempted to cause a scene, but she managed to hold her composure. She had never gotten over Ishmael. No matter how many ballers tricked their dough on her, no matter how many thugs she had in her life with that unmistakable Brooklyn
swagger, no matter whom she spent her nights with, she still had a weakness for Ishmael Wright. She hated that she had been silly enough to mess up what they'd had once.
Robin, meanwhile, wondered why he was taking such a chance by visiting her at her job in broad daylight. She didn't care, truthfully.
Fuck Nina!
she thought
. And Charly, too, for that matter.
Ishmael was sexy as hell. He smiled at Robin as he approached, and she smiled back. They were having a private joke, and no one else got it but them. “Hi,” Robin said. “This is an unexpected visit.”
Ishmael sat on her stool as she stood and continued to braid her client's hair. “Surprise,” he said. “I was in the neighborhood, so I just stopped by to say hello.”
Robin glanced at him, smiling slyly. She surmised that their conversation the night before had piqued his curiosity, which had been precisely what she had wanted. It had obviously worked, because here he was.
Ishmael had replayed their conversation in his head over and over that night. And the next day, once he was sure that Nina was busy in her own salon with a customer's relaxer, he had slipped away to come and see what Robin had in mind to excite him. He had to admit that he was intrigued.
Robin finished her customer's braids and handed her the mirror so that she could see the end result. Robin got paid, thanked her client for the generous tip, and turned to Ishmael. “So, hi,” she said, smiling. Robin noticed Charly stealing
glances in their direction. She knew that this was not the time or place for the two of them to speak freely.
Ishmael also noticed Charly looking. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around. “You wanna go get something to eat?” Ishmael asked. He looked around. “You got any more clients waiting?”
Robin shook her head. “Nope. My next appointment is at four thirty.”
“Come on.” Ishmael led the way, with Robin following closely behind.
As they passed Charly, Robin smirked. “I'll be back in a few. I'm going to get some lunch.”
Charly said nothing. Instead, she watched, seething as Robin followed Ishmael to his truck. Charly saw him open the passenger door for Robin, and she climbed inside. Charly wondered what was going on. She knew about Robin's dalliance with Ishmael years prior and wondered if history was repeating itself. She was tempted to make a scene, but she wasn't sure what the two of them were doing and she didn't want to come across as the jealous ex. She decided instead to wait for Robin to return, and swoop down on her like a hawk attacking its prey.
 
 
Robin watched Ishmael bite into his burger as she picked at her salad. She couldn't help wondering what was so wrong with Nina that Ishmael was being so reckless as to have
lunch with her in broad daylight just blocks from her salon. “So, tell me why you're bored with Nina,” she said. She shoveled a forkful of salad into her mouth as she waited for his response.
Ishmael finished chewing his food and looked at Robin. “I don't want to talk about Nina right now,” he said simply.
Robin took a gulp of her Snapple and Ishmael watched her swallow, intrigued. “Okay,” she said. “So what do you want to talk about?” she asked.
“I wanna know what kind of excitement you have to offer me. Last night it seemed like you had something in mind.” Ishmael sat back, waiting for her response.
Robin looked at him with a sexy expression. “I'll level with you, Ishmael. I know what kind of man you are … .”
“What kind of man am I?”
“A man who plays the field. A man who's used to getting what he wants from women and has a hard time being faithful to one woman.”
Ishmael smirked and took another bite of his burger. She continued to eat her salad and she looked back at him. “Am I wrong?” she asked.
Ishmael took a swig of his soda. “Well, you left out one thing,” he said.
“What's that?”
Ishmael wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I'm a man who knows how to please a woman.”
Robin smiled. “Yes, I know that,” she said. Robin had a
flashback to when she had sex with Ishmael in the backseat of his SUV. Even though it had been quick and unemotional, she had never experienced anything like it. “So what kind of excitement are you looking for, Ish?”
He shrugged. He wasn't about to spell it out for her. “You got a man yet?” he asked.
Robin stopped chewing. She was slightly annoyed by the question. She was tired of everyone acting as if having a man were a sign of success—as if her life were somehow incomplete because she wasn't tied down to one person. “Yeah,” she answered. “Hezekiah's my man.”
Ishmael chuckled. “I like that. Little man is big now, too. When I saw you and him in the store yesterday I was shocked. Last time I saw him he was a shorty.” Ishmael took a gulp of his soda. “You've changed a lot since the last time I saw you.”
“For the better, I hope.” Robin smiled.
Ishmael nodded. “Definitely. You look … good!”
She sat back in her seat. “I feel good,” she said. “I've changed a lot in more ways than one. Like take Charly, for instance. I know how to tune her out now. She's miserable and that's why she behaves the way that she does. She meets men, parties all the time, picks fights with bitches, starts trouble, all for attention. I figured that out and I ignore her.”
“How come you don't need all that? All the drama and all the bullshit to keep life interesting?”
Robin scrunched her lips up in disgust. “I have an interesting life as it is. I don't need drama or constant parties—or a
man.
” She met his gaze for emphasis. “I have my son, school, my job, and that's all I need. When the right man comes along, he'll recognize me as the catch that I am.” Robin smiled and shoveled more salad into her mouth.
Ishmael stared at her, watched her chew her food. He liked what he was hearing. More than anything, Ishmael liked a woman who was a go-getter. It was what had attracted him to Celeste—and to Nina in the beginning. A woman who went out and chased her own wealth and her own power, as opposed to waiting around for some man to hand it to her, was a turn-on to Ishmael. Nina had been like that once. She had worked at Dime Piece, promoted parties in her spare time. Nina had an amazing talent for sketching and painting. Those things had made him fall in love with her. Lately it seemed that all of that had changed. Nina nagged him to spend time with her, nagged him to commit to her, nagged him about what she needed for the shop. She seldom sketched anymore, and Ishmael missed that. He used to love watching her sit at her easel with nothing but boy shorts on, sketching away at a new masterpiece. He loved watching her create, seeing her motivated to finish a project. But her watercolors and chalks had been replaced by bridal magazines and books of baby names. Suddenly she was everything he never wanted—needy, unmotivated, and pushy. Hearing Robin speak of contentment without a relationship was refreshing.

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