Page 40 of Big Booty

“Hey, girl,” she says as she sits her client up from the sink. She wraps a towel around her head and blot dries her long, wavy hair. Ooh, the bitch’s hair is luscious. I’ve seen her here a few times in the past, too. Pasha looks at me. “I know you’re not in here already to get your hair done again. It still looks good. And I’m lovin’ how you workin’ that braid.”

I toss my head, swingin’ my braid. “Yessss, sugah-boo. I’m lovin’ it too. And no, I ain’t here to have nothin’ done to it. I’m here to get these hands and feet laid out.”

“Oh, good. Did Felecia tell you about our house specials?”

“You know she did, Pasha Girl.” I glance up at the large mani-pedi board up on the wall that lists prices and whatnot. “I think I’ma get me that lemongrass and sea salt treatment, then let them toss a lil’ sake and ginger up on these suckas.”

She chuckles. “Oh, you’ll love it, girl. We even wrap your feet in natural sea paper, then give you a warm ginger compress that you can take home with you to use again.”

I purse my lips. “See, Miss Pasha, this is why you stay gettin’ my coins. You know how to do it right.”

“We always aim to please, girl. I saw you up front cuttin’ up with Felecia.”

“Uh-huh. You know how I do. Pasha girl, Miss FeFe’s a damn hot mess. And that husband of yours knows he has some fine damn cousins. Whew. That sexy-ass Stax makes me wanna chew the nut outta his dingaling.”

Everyone in earshot laughs. I glance at the chick sittin’ in Pasha’s chair. Miss Luscious is some kinda gorgeous. And one thing about Big Booty, baby, I gives out compliments where they’re deserved.

Pasha looks over at Felecia, shakin’ her head as she takes a sip of her Ocean Spray cranberry juice. “Girl, take a ticket and stand in line. You along with practically everyone else want a taste of him.”

“And what about you, Miss Pasha Girl? You want some of that dingaling, too?”

She chokes and coughs. “Girl, you a mess.”

I purse my lips. “Mmmph. But I see you ain’t answer the question either.” I eye the Miss Cutie-Boo Pasha has in her chair as she turns her chair around, facin’ the mirror. Cutie Boo eyes me back. “Girl,” I say, flickin’ my bangs, “what you mixed with, Indian?”

“No,” she says with sass in her voice. “Why?”

“Ooh, no, Miss Girl,” I say, waggin’ a finger at her, “put the weapons down. I’m only givin’ you a compliment, Hon. I know all that thick ’n wavy hair ain’t no weave so I was wonderin’ if you were Indian or somethin’; that’s all.”

“Oh. I’m Puerto Rican and Black.”

“Oh, you a Blatino. I knew you were mixed with somethin’. Anyway, boo, you ’bout to make me wanna start lickin’ kitty-cats. And everyone knows how much I love the dingdong.”

There’s more laughter throughout the shop.

I ask her where she’s from. “Brooklyn,” she says, eyein’ me. Her ’tude is still kinda stank, but I ain’t concerned. “And thanks for the compliment. I guess.”

“Chanel, girl,” Pasha says, wavin’ me on. “Pay this nut no mind. Cass is certifiable. But she’s one of my most faithful and loyal customers.”

The Chanel chick chuckles. “Oh, it’s all good. I can rock wit’ the best of ’em; trust. Like I said, I’m from Brooklyn. All day, e’eryday, so it is what it is.” She glances at me. “I remember seein’ you in here the last time I was here.”

“Uh-huh. I remember seein’ you too, boo.” I tell her she was with another Indian-lookin’ chick all dolled up in designer wear and jewels who leaped up on some Spanish ho and did her face in.

She laughs. “Oh, yeah, that was my girl, Kat. I had to turn her on to this spot, but she ended up havin’ to turn it out. I felt so bad that day.”

Miss Pasha tells her to not worry about it. That it’s water under the bridge. I glance around the salon and count four beefy security guards posted up on stools.

“And I see you keepin’ it real airtight up in here these days with all this fine-ass security.”

“Girl, I had to. Too much craziness was goin’ on.”

“Yes, chile, it goes down at Nappy No More. Why you think I stays up in here? I don’t wanna miss a drop of juiciness.”

She laughs. “Girl, you’re a mess.”

Miss Luscious drops her eyes to my bag. “I’m lovin’ the Bottega.”

“Ooh, yes, sugah-boo. You know ya designers, I see.”

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