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narrow waist, but not enough to show his underwear. A Gucci belt keeps them from falling around his knees. “Baby, I want you to meet my cousin, Pasha. Pasha, this is my boo, Royce.”
    The shit the three of them had going on in the sheets is all too messy and confusing to keep up with. I’m sure she thinks I don’t know that she and her sisters fucked him together. Or that the three of them had been fucking Porsha’s fiancé for months until he decided he no longer wanted to dick the three of them down because he’d caught feelings for Porsha, and wanted to spend his time exclusively with her. Felecia told me about their sexapade with Royce. But it was Jasper who told me about them fucking Porsha’s man, too—news he’d gotten from Desmond whom Paris had shared the information with. I tell you niggas gossip worse than bitches.
    Royce extends his hand. I glance at his long slender fingers, then into his almond-shaped eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he says, revealing straight white teeth as he smiles. There’s a hint of a Caribbean accent in his tone.
    â€œLikewise,” I say to him. “You must be one special kind of man to keep my cousin’s attention.”
    Persia waves me on. “Girl, please. Not a word. This man has my undivided attention, trust. Baby, why don’t you come back and pick me up in like an hour. I don’t want any of them young hoes sitting out in that waiting area trying to entice you.”
    He laughs. “You know I only got eyes for you, baby.” He leans over and kisses her on the lips, making it clear to every bitch in the room that he’s off-limits. I grin.
    Persia’s face lights up. “Good answer. I’ll see you when you get back.” We all watch as he swaggers out. The whole back area is quiet until he walks out the door.
    Then it’s on. They all go in…
    â€œGiiiiiirl, he’s fine as hell,” one customer sitting in my stylist Kendra’s chair says. Kendra was hired a few weeks after I fired Alicia’s ass. Alicia could do the hell out of some hair. But, after her man, Chauncey, coming up in here and beating her ass down in my office, she had to go. He beat her ass so bad I thought he was going to kill her. She got carried up out of here on a stretcher and his ass got hauled off in handcuffs. That whole scene was out of control.
    â€œOooh, yes lawd,” another one chimes in. “No harm, girl, but he looks like he beats it up in the bedroom.”
    Persia lips slip into a sly grin. “Not a word. A woman never kisses and tells.”
    â€œMmmmph. Girl, you don’t have to say a thing. I saw how he was walking. I can spot a little-dick nigga a mile away. And there ain’t nothing little about him.”
    â€œHow old did you say he was?” someone else asks.
    â€œHe’ll be twenty-five.”
    â€œAnd how old are you?” another client wants to know.
    â€œThirty-six.”
    â€œGirl, do you,” Rhodeshia, another one of my newest stylists, says, butting into the conversation like she always does. I don’t know why bitches feel the need to always be in the middle of someone else’s business. “Ain’t nothing like getting it in with a young stud. I’m twenty-six and I like all of my boyfriends under twenty-one. My baby’s father’s ass is nineteen. Well, he was seventeen when we first got together. I thought he was a lil older though.But, mmmph. The nigga rocked in them sheets like he was a grown-ass man. I love ’em young.”
    I blink. I had no clue this bitch was a cradle robber. Then again, why should I be surprised?
    â€œOooh, girl,” the client in her chair says, waving her hand in the air. “I can’t with you. Your ass tryna do a bid.”
    A few people laugh. I shake my head. I hired Rhodeshia about a week after I fired Shuwanda’s grimy-ass. That’s another two-faced bitch I’d like to