Street Soldiers Read online

  That explains how Netta’s Never Nappy Beauty Shop is still thriving in the middle of Compton, California where shops like CoCo’s have taken over. Netta and Mama only deal with natural products and nothing synthetic—no weaves, extensions or anything else they deem as toxic. We make all of our own products, choose our clientele carefully and rarely accept new clients. They’ve been here for over thirty years and aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  “Our great, great ancestor Califia is one of my most formidable mastermind participants,” Mama says, checking Netta’s progress in the mirror. “She taught me how to see people’s thoughts like a projector image. She can mimic any action in front of her; see the next three steps ahead. I hate playing her in chess during our mental meetings. If she sees any move in your thoughts she’ll block it, throwing you completely off in the process. Her gift is one of my favorites to borrow.”

  Damn, I wish I had that skill. I need to see about summoning Califia through my dreams like I do Maman’s and my mom’s powers. Lord knows I could use some help seeing my way through this mess with Jeremy as well as in beating Esmeralda at her own game. I guess I better get to work on putting together a mastermind team of my own. And, while I’m at it I need to keep better records of my dreams. It’s something about putting things down on paper that makes them seem more powerful, and I’m gong to need all the power I can get.

  “Just read the damn letter, Jayd.”

  -Nellie

  Drama High, volume 1: The Fight

  * * *

  CHAPTER FOUR: PAPER

  It feels nice walking up the block this time of evening. It’s mid October and the air is a bit chillier than it was last month, but I can still get away with wearing a pair of shorts and a hoody. If I were in the South Bay I’d be freezing my legs off by now. I was glad to leave Drama High behind when I left campus a few hours ago. Avoiding Jeremy all week was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I still have very real feelings for him, but we’re just not seeing eye-to-eye on his love of all things illegal. Eventually we’ll have to talk about what we want to do, but right now I can’t deal with any more heat.

  After dealing with G’s arraignment on Monday and being Nellie’s chauffeur on Tuesday, I spent the rest of the week catching up on schoolwork and my clients’ heads. I’m glad Mama and Netta gave me the afternoon off to get myself situated. Besides, they’ve been at the church almost every evening to meet with other concerned members of the neighborhood. I could’ve stayed and caught up on the cleaning duties but I don’t want to be at the shop alone, especially not after my dream with Pam and her black eyes.

  Mrs. Nguyen and her husband have been running The Right Stop liquor store for as long as my mom’s lived in Inglewood. It’s more than a convenience spot; it’s the neighborhood everything market. From rolling papers to milk to hair beads, Mrs. Nguyen’s got everything we could want within walking distance under one roof.

  “Jayd, how are you?” Mrs. Nguyen asks from behind the bulletproof glass counter. After the last shooting I witnessed on Labor Day last year, they improved their security system, complete with a rent-a-cop outside of the front door and a pit bull on the back porch.

  “I’m good. Just need some hair supplies and chips to hold me over until dinner.” There’s always a need for Lays in our apartment.

  Shawntrese and her boyfriend have become my best clients in this area. They’ve been responsible for the majority of my referrals, too. One of which is his daughter, Chrystal, whose hair I’m braiding in twenty minutes. If her crown is anything like her daddy’s, it’ll be the last thing that I do tonight. Thankfully my Saturday schedule’s already packed insuring a nice weekend profit.

  I walk through the narrow aisles to the back wall where all of the hair products are lined up. I don’t normally braid little girls’ hair and need to stock up on pretty beads and whatnot if I’m going to make this a regular part of my hustle. The door buzzer rings indicating another patron has entered the premises, and she’s a hot mess. I recognize her from around the block. I make eye contact with her and keep it moving. The last thing I need is some drama with a female in my mom’s neighborhood. It’s one thing to bother me at school, but I have too many clients around here and can’t afford for hating chicks to mess with my paper.

  “Hey, ain’t you that chick who be doing hair?” she asks.

  “Yeah. Jayd,” I say, picking out five large packs of multi-colored beads and a few bags of rubber bands. I hope Shawntrese knows she’s going to be helping put these things in Chrystal’s hair.

  “Can you do my son’s braids?” she asks, referring to the little boy standing behind her. “He’s looking raggedy as shit and I ain’t got time to hook it up.”

  She’s about to bust soon with his little brother or sister. I guess she didn’t want to be bothered with maternity clothes. Her sweats are rolled under her exposed belly and her t-shirt barely covers her large navel. Mickey wasn’t quite this cavalier when she was pregnant but close enough.

  “Yeah, I can try and fit you in tomorrow afternoon.” I don’t know how but I should be able to squeeze a few braids in his head in between clients if all rolls smoothly. When one person is late my whole day is thrown off. “Here’s my number.” I take one of my business cards out and pass it to her. I need to have some more made but have to stack up my cheddar first. New clients are just the way to get that done.

  “Aight, bet. My name’s Channel. Say hi to Jayd, Jason.”

  Jason looks at me hard like if I take one step toward him he’s going to kick me in the shins. I hope he melts a little once I get my hands in his hair. Maybe I’ll ask Mama for a recipe to cool a child’s head when in my chair. I don’t want to have to wrestle a five year old to the ground to do his hair.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I say. “See y’all tomorrow.”

  After paying for my items I leave the store ready to get my Friday night started. Hopefully I’ll sleep better than I have all week. Pam came to me again in my dreams repeating the same mantra from three days ago. I told Mama and Netta at the shop yesterday and they just told me to write it down, as usual. I’ve done more writing in my spirit journal than I did when I was first initiated over the summer. If I keep it up I can have a book of my own by the time I graduate from high school in June.

  “I think that’s the point,” my mom says as I walk through the front door. She’s wearing her Gazelle shades while checking the mail. I’m sure her fiancé Karl’s got something lovely planned for the weekend.

  “Mom, we’re going to have to talk about the misuse of your gift of sight.” I shut the door closed and give her a hug.

  “It’s nice to see you, too, little girl. Did you bring me something back?”

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” I say, setting the black plastic bag down on the dining room table.

  On cue, Shawntrese opens her door across the hall and taps on ours. It’s nearly impossible to sneak in this building.

  “Hey, girl,” I say, letting Shawntrese and my new client inside.

  “And who’s this cutie,” my mom says aloud, but in my head I can feel she’s not too pleased with a child in her peaceful abode.

  “This is Chrystal, Leroy’s baby girl,” Shawntrese says prompting the shy child to greet us. I’ll take a quiet kid over an ornery one like Jason any day.

  My mom shakes her hand and smiles. “How old are you, baby?”

  “I’m six,” Chrystal says, holding up five fingers. My mom and I exchange a knowing look: most of the kids around here are behind academically.

  “She just had a birthday.” Shawntrese takes Chrystal by the hand and leads her toward the dining room.

  “Shawntrese, can you grab a couple of those telephone books and put them in the chair for her?” I ask, pointing to the large books under the dining room table. At Netta’s shop we have several sets bound with duct tape for occasional use. If I’m going to have small clients I guess I’ll have to do the same thing.

  “We
ll, I’ve got to hit the road. Karl’s meeting me in Beverly Hills for our dance lessons.” They’ve been taking various dance classes in preparation for their wedding in a few months. I think my mom’s leaning toward salsa.

  “Jayd, do I have to remind you that this isn’t a full-service hair salon?” my mom yells into my mind. “If you’re going to be doing kids hair you’ll have to start going to your clients’ houses, girl. I’m not having a bunch of bay-bays running all up in my space.”

  “I know, mom. I’ll figure it out,” I say, attempting to focus on the child’s head in front of me. Just like her daddy, she’s got a head full to manage.

  “Okay, Jayd. Remember, if that little crumb snatcher breaks a damned thing in my house it’s coming out of your pay,” my mom says, walking down the stairs.

  “I love you, too.” I wish I had an off button for my mom’s mental intrusions. I know she means well most of the time, but damn. Can a sistah catch a break?

  “Come on, Chrystal. Let’s get your hair washed,” I say, moving the chair and the little girl to the kitchen sink.

  “Jayd, your phone’s vibrating.” Shawntrese props the phone in between my right ear and shoulder. It’s Mickey. I hope she knows I’m not going anywhere tonight.

  “What up, sun?” I ask, running the hot water into an old pot to pour over this child’s hair.

  “Not much,” Mickey says. “What are you doing?”

  “Braiding. You?”

  “I’m watching Kendra,” Mickey says, popping her gum. She’s found a new role model in the reality TV mom. “And then Ice Loves Coco is coming on.”

  “Mickey, I have to go,” I say, securing the white towel around Chrystal’s neck before I rinse her hair. “I just started a new head.”

  “Okay. Call me when you’re done. Nellie wants to go to some party in Redondo Beach and my mom said she’ll watch the baby.” I think my girl is bored and I know Rah’s just about lost his patience with his latest houseguest.

  “Mickey, have you talked to Nigel?” I ask, knowing he’s not in the mood to chat with Mickey.

  I hope she admits her wrongdoings and fixes this shit before it gets completely out of hand. I already turned back the hands of time when her ex-man shot Nigel, but I can’t do the same thing again—or at least I don’t think I can nor would I want to. That was a specific circumstance to get Nickey here safely. This new drama is on some other shit that I want no part of.

  “Nah, I ain’t talked to that fool,” Mickey says, disappointed. “He’s still tripping and I could really care less at this point.”

  Who can blame Nigel for tripping hard? He sacrificed everything for our girl and her daughter. She’s completely in the wrong for this shit right here, but Nigel does love her and I’d hate to see them call it quits when they have so much responsibility to each other and the baby. Granted, Nickey Shantae is not Nigel’s daughter—technically—but he did sign the birth certificate and gave her his last name, officially making him the daddy in the court’s eyes.

  “Well, I’m going over Chase’s house tomorrow if you want to come,” I say, rinsing out the mango shampoo, ready to put the coconut conditioner on Chrystal’s hair. The child’s almost asleep she’s so relaxed. “I’m sure he wants to see the baby.”

  “What about me? He needs to bring his ass over here and check for his girl before it’s too late. This shit is all wrong if you ask me.”

  Is Mickey serious? She’s the one who committed the major violation, not Nigel and she’s still acting like the Queen Bee. My God, this girl is a trip and then some.

  “Jayd,” Nellie says, taking over the call. “Can you come out tonight, please? ASB is having their first party of the year at The Cheesecake Factory. You know it’s going to be fierce. Did I mention they’re considering me for the cheer squad?”

  “Nellie, if you recall the reason there’s a spot available on the damned squad is because they kicked me off,” I say, reminding my girl of the truth as it is, not how she wants to see it.

  “Jayd, that’s all water under the bridge now,” Nellie says, overly excited about being back in the good graces of the crew she so desperately wants to be a part of. “And besides, it’s free food. Come on, girl. I know it’s your favorite restaurant.”

  She’s right about that but duty calls. Chrystal’s hair is going to take me all night. “Maybe next time, Nellie. I’ve got my hands full over here.”

  “Whatever, Jayd.” Nellie passes the cell back to Mickey who sounds equally exasperated.

  “Jayd, you need to have a little fun. All you do is work and study. It’s our senior year and you’re missing it.”

  Mickey does have a point. I’m going to graduate in less than eight months and I have yet to have a wild high school experience. Not that a free dinner qualifies as wild, but I do need to have a little more fun. Too bad I can’t start this evening.

  “I’ll get on that as soon as I make this money,” I say, running the hot water for Chrystal’s final rinse. If I’m lucky she’ll sleep through the entire braiding process. “Holla.”

  I hang up my phone and place it on the kitchen counter. My girls are right: I need to enjoy my senior year of high school before it’s all said and done. And in order to do that, I’ve got to get my money right. Besides, I’m still dealing with Nigel’s mom suing me, and Esmeralda’s constant bull. I wish I could sit around and watch mindless television like my friends, but shit is real around here.

  *

  It’s been a busy Saturday and I’m glad for it. I managed to get through six heads before the day was done and still get to the shop to help out Netta and Mama. It’s evening time and I’m ready to chillax with my crew even if my girls will be missing. They opted to go to yet another ASB party instead of hang out at Chase’s house with me. I hope this isn’t the beginning of the end of our crew as we know it. If it is, who gets custody of me? If I’m forced to choose between Mickey and Nigel—or Chase and Nellie—I don’t know what I’ll do.

  Mama and Netta have been busy preparing for the big neighborhood meeting at church tomorrow after Daddy’s sermon. They’ve visited G every day this week who’s completely resistant to any outside assistance. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Mickey in depth about her reentering a relationship with G, but I will as soon as I can. She’s lost her mind if she thinks dude can just forgive her for leaving him for Nigel.

  I also need to speak with Nigel about his Mama’s latest stunt. I know Mama’s distracted with Pam’s murder, but as soon as she’s back on it, Mrs. Esop’s going to be in for it and I don’t want to see her get hurt. Maybe if Nigel takes his stubborn ass home his mom will back off.

  “There’s my girl,” Nigel says, looking like a porcupine exploded on top of his head. “I’m ready for you, baby.” Nigel points to his wild hair and I can’t help but laugh at my boy.

  “Yeah you are,” I say, placing my hair bag down on Chase’s bedroom floor ready to work.

  Nigel’s made himself right at home with his shit everywhere. The house has five more empty bedrooms but he seems to be bunking right here on the couch.

  “I got next,” Chase says without taking his eyes away from his PS2 for a moment. I can tell they’ve been playing this war game all day long by the glazed look in both of their eyes.

  Nigel has football practice every day after school except on Fridays, which are game nights. The team also has meetings on Saturday mornings and Nigel spends the rest of the weekend chilling to make up for his dedication. Homecoming’s in a couple of weeks and I know recruiters will be out in full-effect in an attempt to woo Nigel away from UCLA, but we all know he’s made his decision. Hell, with P. Diddy’s son as one of his teammates next year I wouldn’t budge, either.

  “What’s new, girl?” Nigel says, making himself comfortable on the floor in front of me. Before I get into a comfortable braid position I need to let him in on our legal drama.

  “Your mama is suing my Mama; that’s what,” I say, tossing the legal papers into Nigel’s lap.


  “Say what?” Chase says, looking away from the screen as stunned as I was when Mrs. Esop served us at Netta’s shop a couple of weeks ago.

  “What are you talking about?” Nigel asks. He unfolds the long papers and glances at the words in bold print. “Plaintiff. Defendant. Are you serious?”

  “Hell yeah I’m serious,” I say, parting his hair with my fingers. I’ve got my work cut out for me this evening, but it’s cool. Nigel always pays and tips me well above average. “Does it look like she’s joking?”

  “Damn, that’s some cold shit right there, no doubt.” Chase glances over Nigel’s shoulder, reading the document word for word.

  I still can’t believe Nigel moved out of Rah’s house and opted to stay all the way in Palos Verdes. I know my boys are cool, but I’d never thought I’d see the day that Nigel would up and leave his hood to move to the “Beverly Hills by the beach”, as the members of this elite community call it.

  “Jayd, I don’t know what to say. I knew she was pissed about the ball and the dress and all that, but not this angry.” Nigel refolds the papers and regretfully passes them back to me. “It’s not like she can’t afford the loss.”

  “Exactly. But suing my grandmother over a gown is beyond frivolous, and we can’t afford it.” I don’t want to remind Nigel that Mama has a way of fixing things beyond the law’s reach, but that’s exactly where this situation’s headed if Mrs. Esop doesn’t back down.

  “You know, you should talk to my mom about this,” Chase says, returning to his game. “It’s right up her alley.” Chase is back to calling his mother mom and it sounds good. At least my spiritual work for he and his family wasn’t in vain.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, glancing at the court documents. I still can’t believe this shit.