Read Online Flip Side of the Game by Tu-Shonda L. Whitaker - Free Book Online Page A

had been sewing on hair for over an hour. The manicurist seemed to be making mad loot, ’cause there were already two women with their nails drying, one woman in the chair, and another one with her feet soaking for a pedicure.
    Fifty Cent’s “Get Rich or Die Trying” was banging in the background, leading nobody to notice how Rowanda came in well dressed, pretending to be clean. I ignored the hell outta her. I was embarrassed, and if it weren’t for the memory of the ass-beatin’ I got from Aunt Cookie when I spit in Rowanda’s face, I would’ve done it again.
    â€œHey, Cookie!” Rowanda said.
    â€œHey, chile! What you doin’ here?”
    â€œYesterday was my birthday.”
    â€œThat’s beautiful, baby. Happy birthday,” Aunt Cookie said.
    â€œWell, I don’t have two dollars!” I said, trying to shut Rowanda down before she even got to the part where she needed two dollars for something to eat, or two dollars for something to drink, or to get to a job, or any other shit that the typical fiend would create.
    â€œShe ain’t asked you fo’ two dollars!” Aunt Cookie snapped. “Yesterday was your mother’s birthday. Show some respect.”
    â€œMy mother? Please.” Then I rolled my eyes and proceeded with handling my client’s hair.
    â€œI ain’t come for no trouble,” Rowanda said. “I just was wonderin’ if you would do my hair. See, I got money. I got a whole ten dollars.”
    â€œWell, the ten dollar doobie shop is down the street and around the corner.”
    Aunt Cookie shot me the evil eye. “Step to the side for a minute, Vera,” Aunt Cookie said in a demanding tone.
    â€œWhat is it?” I snapped.
    â€œNow, look. That there is yo’ mama. Treat her nice for once. She trying, Vera.”
    â€œBe nice? Be nice? That chickenhead put me in a drawstring garbage bag and placed me on the street like overnight trash!”
    â€œYou gonna have to get over that.”
    â€œReally? Well, until I do, she won’t get her hair done up in here.”
    â€œHey, baby,” Taj said, walking into the midst of commotion. Now, personally, this mu’fucka had a lot of nerve, but I was relieved as hell to see him.
    â€œWhere did you come from? Your hair appointment is not until tomorrow.” Now, take that, put it in yo’ pipe and smoke it! Teach yo’ ass not to call me for three days.
    He shot my ass such a look that I instantly took it down, but I still ignored the hell outta Aunt Cookie and Rowanda.
    â€œTaj,” Aunt Cookie said, “speak with Vera! She acting like she don’t have no Christianity!”
    â€œWhat’s up, baby?” he had the audacity to say, sounding as if something was wrong with me.
    Well, wasn’t a damn thing wrong with me! Didn’t nobody in there know what it was like to have a dopefiend for a mother. Nobody knew what it was like to wanna eat but have to wait until everybody had their dope. Nobody knew! And here Taj came, who hadn’t called me in three days, and he thought that I should what, pour my heart out to his ass? Hell, no. Not Vera.
    â€œAin’t shit up!” I said, taking the cape off my client and winking my eye to let her know she looked good. “But I’m not doing Rowanda’s hair. Understand?”
    I felt my knees about to break, but there was no way I would let any one of these mu’fuckas see me cry. I cleared my throat, wrote out my ticket for my client to pay the cashier, and then I planned to keep on steppin’.
    Instead, Taj handed the cashier the ticket and stepped into my personal space. I could feel the cool peppermint on his breath.
    â€œLet’s talk,” he said.
    Reluctantly, I stepped to the back of the shop, where my small office was. I practically fell down in my oversized brown leather chair, placed my head on my desk and began to cry. How could Rowanda come in here