Page 7 of Disrespectfully, Relic

“You are,” Kennedy retorted, glancing at her with a frown. The girl swallowed the lump of nerves in her throat and continued.

“I apologize, but I couldn’t help it since I’ve been searching for a salon to work at, too. From the way that girl’s mouth wouldn’t stop moving, and your expressions, I could tell that she wasn’t getting the position. My name is Ryell.”

She held out a hand, and Kennedy angled her head, debating whether to snap on the girl who’d intruded on her conversation or to hear her out. Kennedy found it ironic that a stranger had caught on to her mood but not Ronnie, who’d sat right in her damn face for the span of just under an hour. She remained silent, observing the technique of the sleek bob Ryell rocked with feathered baby hairs, false lashes that weren’t overly excessive, and makeup that blended well with smooth, dark skin. The girl was a cutie.

The scrutiny made Ryell tuck her hair behind an ear with the hand she’d held out long enough to become embarrassed. A soft smile she hadn’t expected blossomed on Kennedy’s face.

“You’re hard of hearing?”

Kennedy stared at the device tucked behind Ryell’s earlobe. She’d seen Pierre’s son with a similar electronic aid in the posts on Tima’s social media page.

“Yea. I caught meningitis when I was four and it caused me to get sensorineural hearing loss. I can hear certain sounds without my aids, but most are muffled or hard to grasp if there’s a lot of noise around.”

“Like in a restaurant,” Kennedy deduced with a nod. “My homegirl’s sister has a boyfriend whose son is deaf. He just got surgery to help with it.”

“Cochlear implants. I thought of doing that, but when they told me that it could cause me to lose the bit of hearing I have left, I chickened out. Plus, people would stare at me even more with devices attached to my damn head, so yea. It’s rare I get positive reactions like the one you gave.”

“Trust me, I get it.”

Kennedy pushed open the door for them to exit the restaurant before stopping on the sidewalk. She swept her braids over a shoulder, revealing the scars etched along her sideburn, jawline, and downward onto her neck.

“I noticed,” Ryell admitted with a light smile. “Once you have an abnormality, you tend to pick up on everyone else’s without trying. It’s as natural as decoding facial expressions or reading lips.”

“I was wondering how you noticed Ronnie was getting on my damn nerves, but it makes sense now. How old are you, Ryell?”

“Twenty. I know you may think that’s young to work in a salon setting, but my work ethic and skills will speak for themselves. I’m mature for my age, and I’ve been doing hair since I was thirteen.”

“You did your own hair?”

“Yep, always. I did my makeup and lashes too, but I prefer doing hair.”

“Do you have a license?”

Ryell’s shoulders slumped. “No. I guess that concludes our conversation, huh?”

“It doesn’t,” Kennedy replied with a laugh. “And if you really want something, don’t just give up the second you think someone will tell you no. I’m sure you’re aware, you can’t do hair in a salon without a cosmetology license, but you can work there as an apprentice. Apprenticeship hours are another way to get your license.”

“Really? I didn’t know that. Hold up... are you...” Ryell’s eyes lit in excitement at the prospect of working in a salon.

“I didn’t think about it until now that we’ll need help around the shop. Booking appointments for call-ins, washing hair if we’re super busy, and light cleaning. You are younger than what I planned to hire, but I like you. I can’t say that about people often.”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to. Thank you so much!” she screamed, practically bouncing on her toes as Kennedy sniggered.

“I got you. Take my card and email me. We’ll go from there.”

She dug in her purse for a business card to give Ryell before they parted ways. As she hurried to her car, a content smile spread on her face because she was giving a young girl the chance to grow and learn in their field, which was better than hiring an experienced stylist who neither liked nor respected her. Ronnie would’ve, more than likely, cause tension in her establishment. Kennedy refused to allow one rotten apple to spoil the atmosphere she desired for the salon.

The thought to tell Savvy about the debacle that had taken place made her reach for her phone once she’d hopped inside her car. She cranked the engine and then went to her contacts to do so, but an incoming call thwarted her attempt. Her eyes rolled as she answered for Lexi.

“Bitch, where is my money?” She skipped the formalities and got straight to the point. “I know you got it, ‘cause yo baby daddy ain’t broke. I did your big ass head two days ago. This is why I don’t do that I’ll pay you tomorrow bullshit.”

“That’s why I’m calling your rude ass! He just dropped the money in my account today because he was being petty and wouldn’t send it until he talked to Promise.”

“Mhmm, okay.”

Kennedy left it at that since she found it reasonable for Pierre to hold off on sending cash whenever Lexi acted childish and took their daughter’s iPad so that he couldn’t contact his baby girl. Lexi only did it so that her baby father wouldn’t have a choice but to call her phone.

After witnessing some of her girl’s immature tactics, it made Kennedy grateful that she’d gone against her nephew’s wishes and helped his little side piece abort their baby. Tekken could’ve been in the same position. She figured her curt response made it obvious that she didn’t agree because, instead of going off on a tangent about Pierre, Lexi changed the subject.

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