Page 9 of Bern and Isley
“All I’m saying is there’s not a bitch in this world that could get that kind of money from me without giving up some ass.”
I scoffed. “First off, I’m not a bitch. Secondly, I don’t even believe you would give that kind of money to a woman you are fucking considering you’re fucking me and didn’t offer to help at all.”
“You didn’t ask me for it.” He stood from the bed and headed toward the bathroom. “Closed mouths don’t get fed.”
Before I could rebut, he slammed the door. My blood boiled. Not only did Marshall insult me by accusing me of sleeping with Bern, the bastard said he didn’t give me the money for my repairs because I didn’t ask. I was beginning to regret even telling him where I had gotten the money from. So much for trying to be honest with my man. As much as I’d gotten accused of fucking Bern over the years, I might as well had fucked him. But the thought had never crossed my mind.Well, maybe it did a time or two.He was an attractive man. I wasn’t blind. But he was my friend. And I would never want to risk the friendship we had. Bern had been there for me when I had nobody else.
After Marshall emerged from the bathroom, we got dressed in silence. I was still pissed at him and I guessed he felt some type of way too. He dropped me off at home before he headed to work at the banking center. I really needed to get groceries before he took me home, but I would rather walk to the grocery store than to ask him to do anything else for me.
I had two days to go before Mr. Bobby Joe would be finished with my car repair. And I was counting down. I got home with time to spare to fix my aunt breakfast before my first client arrived.
The timer on the stove brought me back to reality. I stood from my seat at the kitchen table and grabbed a mitt to retrieve my food from the oven. The smell of the homemade, buttery biscuits filled the room. My stomach growled in response. I placed them on top of the counter while I quickly whipped up the gravy.
“Good morning, Isley B.”
I turned my head from the skillet to the doorway where my Aunt Fee stood. “Good morning, Auntie. How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling pretty good.” She adjusted her faded blue bathrobe around her frail body as she used her cane to wobble toward the table.
“Well, that’s good to hear.” I smiled. I could settle for that being my good news for the day because her days of feeling good didn’t come too often. “I’m almost finished cooking breakfast, give me a couple minutes to get your plate fixed, okay?”
“Take your time, baby.”
As soon as the gravy was ready, I placed a split biscuit on top of a plate then covered it with sausage gravy. I cut a boiled egg in half and placed it on the side. I thought scrambled eggs would be a better side, but she hated them. I also fixed a small bowl of mixed fruit and the most important part of the meal was her black coffee. I set everything in front of her then made a plate for myself then joined her at the small table.
As soon as I took my seat, she grabbed my hand. We bowed our heads as she said grace. “Thank you, Lord, for this food and for my beautiful niece that prepared it.”
“Amen.” I smiled as she released my hand. “Don’t forget to take your medicine.” I nodded toward the medicine cup that held her morning caplets.
Since losing my job, braiding hair had become my primary source of income. I was good at it. Actually, I was excellent at braiding. I could do any style my clients showed me and was alsoable to offer my services at an affordable rate. Well, truth be told, I was undercharging. But I knew the people in my hood couldn’t pay what I was really worth, so I adjusted accordingly.
“Good morning,” I greeted my client as I opened the door of the three-bedroom apartment I shared with my aunt.
“Hey girl, sorry I’m late.” Cece rushed inside with a breakfast sandwich in one hand and an iced coffee in the other. Her thick, kinky hair was blown out and standing on her head like Don King and she was dressed in a baby blue teddy bear themed pajama set. She even had teddy bear slippers on. I didn’t judge. Hell, if she liked it, I loved it.
“Cece, you are never on time, baby girl.”
“Girl, Kross kept me up all night crying. I think he has colic. And Juice dumb ass acted like he couldn’t get up and help me,” she ranted.
I could only shake my head. She stayed complaining about Juice being sorry, but kept getting pregnant by him. The young mother had five kids, all under seven years old. Her youngest, Kross, was barely eight weeks old. I still felt bad for her, so I didn’t fuss too bad. I just hoped she’d wake up and decide she deserved more than what she had been settling for.
She shared all the recent gossip of the projects while I hooked her hair up with some medium knotless braids. It took me a little over three hours to finish. And that was mostly because her baby daddy kept calling asking how much longer she was going to be. I couldn’t wait to get her out of my chair. Her and Juice were disrupting my peace.
I had three more clients for the remainder of the day. I was finally finished with the last one at five p.m. and had made a total of three hundred dollars. And that was barely enough to cover the monthly utilities. It was still early spring, but the temperatures were pretty high that we had to run the air conditioner more than normal to keep cool. So that meant a highass electric bill. But I didn’t stress because I had more heads to braid the remainder of the week. And the money I had left over from what Bern gave me for my car would cover groceries for the next two weeks.
I was sweeping hair from the living room floor when I heard the doorknob turn. I blew out a deep breath. I wasn’t in the mood for Scrap. Not today. Or any day for that matter.
“Mama!” he yelled as soon as he walked through the door. “Mama, where you at?”
I rolled my eyes. “Scrap, please don’t come in here with all of that hollin’! If you don’t see her in the living room, there’s not too many other places she could be.”
“Shut the hell up, Isley,” he spat as he stormed to Aunt Fee’s bedroom, using one hand to hold up his baggy jeans.
I glared at him until he was out of view. I knew he was only there to beg for money that she didn’t have. That’s all his ass was good for. Twenty-nine years old and didn’t know the first thing about being a responsible adult. He’d never had a job; he didn’t even bother finishing high school. He dropped out at sixteen.
“Steven, I don’t have any money, baby. You know Medicaid doesn’t cover all of my meds so I have to come out of pocket,” Aunt Fee explained.
“I just need to borrow it, Ma. I’m going to give it back,” he pleaded.
