excited about Shawn’s additional cash flow if it wasn’t going to last.
“As long as I’m working under a barber who has a license, it’s cool. But I’ma get mine. I want my own place. The young bull who owns the spot is making crazy loot. His name is Brad and he’s only twenty-two years old, but he got a head on his shoulders. Good business sense and he got skills with the clippers.”
“You have a twenty-two-year-old mentor?”
Shawn laughed. “Ain’t that some shit?”
Vangie was shocked that Shawn was being so good-natured about working as an apprentice under a younger man.
“It’s all good. I don’t mind being the protégé. Brad’s not a hot head. He doesn’t carry himself like a young bull. I guess he’s got an old soul. Anyway, I’m trying to get my act together. Time is moving on; my son is in school now. I want to be a better father than I’ve been. Maybe one day, I’ll have my own shop. Something to pass on to Yuri.”
Vangie was impressed. She wanted to personally shake the hand of Shawn’s youthful mentor for helping him get some sense into his head.
“Anyway, Yuri won’t have any trouble getting through anymore.” He reached inside the pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a sleek iPhone.
“Nice phone.”
“Thanks,” Shawn said while tapping the luminous touch screen. “I’m calling your cell and the house phone, making sure you got my number on both phones.”
“Okay,” she mumbled, feeling overwhelmed by the new, responsible Shawn. She’d viewed him as a loser and the person responsible for ruining her life for so long, she was baffled by how quickly her heart was softening toward him.
“I gotta head out. So, look…uh, make sure Yuri calls me when he wakes up.”
“Okay. I will.”
“Aye, I’m out.” Shawn sent Vangie a smile that was soft and sexy. His eyes roved over her breasts and hips, seeming to penetrate her cotton nightshirt.
Is Shawn flirting with me? Nah, there’s no chemistry between us anymore. I’m trippin’ because I really need to get laid.
CHAPTER 9
N ivea looked through the peephole and was shocked to see her mother standing on the other side of the door. Her mother hardly ever visited her. Nivea wasn’t in the mood. She thought about tiptoeing to her bedroom, and ignoring the doorbell. But guilt made her open the door. She didn’t have the heart to leave her mother standing outside in the cold.
“Hello, Mother. What brings you out in the cold?”
Looking grim, Denise Westcott stepped inside. She pulled off her knit hat, shook out shiny salt and pepper curls that gave off that fresh-from-the-hair-salon whiff.
“Your hair looks nice,” Nivea mumbled.
Mrs. Westcott came out of her coat and gloves. “We have to have a serious discussion.”
Oh, God! I’m going to faint if my mother knows about Eric’s double life.
“I need a cup of coffee.” Her mother rubbed her hands together, warming them.
“I’ll make some.” Nivea plodded to the kitchen wearing a bathroom and slippers. She couldn’t imagine what was so important that her mother felt the need to make a personal visit.
“You’re normally an early riser. Why were you still in bed?”
“I’m grown, Mother; I can get up when I please.” Lips pursed in aggravation, she scooped coffee from a Starbucks bag.
“Excuse me for being a concerned parent.” Mrs. Westcott took a seat at the kitchen table.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Your wedding.” Her mother’s tone was morose.
Nivea took a deep breath. “I was going to tell you later on today, but since you’re here…well, my wedding plans have changed.”
“Don’t tell me Eric has gotten cold feet!”
“No, we’re still getting married. But we decided to change the date and trim down the guest list.”
Mrs. Westcott shook her head woefully. “Why are you downsizing your wedding? Money troubles?”
“No. It’s not about money. Eric and I decided that we want a more intimate ceremony.”