Ty
Ty checked behind and around him before he walked away from the ATM, staring at his deposit receipt. His savings account was looking great. He rubbed his hand over his low fade—an anxious habit. It wouldn’t be much longer before he was able to get the hell out of Atlanta’s clutches. The hood was no place for a disciplined man like himself. Every day was a struggle… a test. It was a regular occurrence, getting jumped, robbed or harassed. All the shit he’d had to endure in his short life and he’d never received a genuine ‘sorry’ from anyone. The US Government took the one thing in the world that had mattered to him and he never even got an explanation. Only a set of dog tags, a few medals—that meant nothing Ty without the man who’d earned them—and a perfectly folded American flag. After all this time he was still in the dark.
“If you depend on someone else for your wisdom, you’ll forever be ignorant, son.”
Ty blinked away the heartache every time he remembered his father’s words. It’d been nine years since his father had gone to a foreign land to fight for his country and never returned, but his no-nonsense voice was still as loud and strong as it had been the day he’d left for his last tour. Putting those thoughts to the back of his mind, he shifted his back pack on his shoulder and yanked opened the door to Sharain’s Styling World.
“Heyyy, Ty. How’s it going?” Sharain sang in a sultry voice from her booth closest to the door. She was putting long plastic rods in her customer’s hair as she gave him a good once over and tilted her head toward the back, silently telling him to wait in her office.
The smell of chemicals and shea butter hair products assaulted his senses, as well as the loud atmosphere. R&B pumped from a couple of speakers mounted on the wall in the corner and a television airing Real Housewives of Atlanta competed valiantly against the music. It resembled any other sista’s hair shop around Hotlanta’. Several stations lined the bright red walls, most of them occupied by a stylist. He didn’t make eye contact with the few women lingering in the salon on a Friday evening, no matter how much they tried to get a rise out of him. Literally. He heard his name called out but he didn’t turn around, instead staying focused on the reasons he was there. With his back straight and his eyes forward, he didn’t give the women his look. He felt it unnecessary. They were scantily dressed in low hung, tight halter tops, booty shorts or something shredded. They left nothing to his imagination, therefore he wasn’t interested. He closed the door behind him and waited in Sharain’s office like he’d been instructed.
When the door opened and the loud chattering flooded in, he assumed it was Sharain but it was Mo. Her tall frame filled the tight space of the doorway as she entered. She removed her black smock from around her waist and massaged her fingers. She did mostly braids and cornrows, but she was amazing with a set of clippers as well. “What’s up, Ty?” Her voice was still deep and raspy from the twenty-five years she’d lived as a man.
“’Coolin,” Ty said in a low bass. He rarely had a lot to say.
“A real man only speaks when he has something valuable to say.”
“’Chillin like always.” Mo laughed, her large Adam’s apple bobbing as she did. She came over and adjusted her long red wig in the mirror next to him. “So, I heard that you and Sharain been talking quite a bit. Don’t tell me that out of all the hoes around here that fawn over you, that you’ll choose that heffa.”
Ty didn’t comment. Idle shop gossip was all it was. Mo stared at him expectantly then rolled her eyes, the fake lashes making the movement even more dramatic. “I’m having a get together at my place next weekend and you know my favorite bachelor is invited.”
He was sure he wouldn’t go but he still said, “I appreciate the invite.”
“I know you ain’t coming, so don’t even try to give me that sexy tone.”
What tone? Ty kept his face impassive and his eyes on the spot behind Mo’s head, just to the right of her temple. He wouldn’t stare her down. She wasn’t his. His father had taught him how to properly show a woman respect. Regardless of whether she was transsexual, old, young or his queen, they all deserved it and he knew no other way to be.
“It’s not healthy for a man as good and as strong as you to be holed up in his apartment alone every night. No company, no ’lovin. Anyone would be beside themselves to have your attention.” Mo sighed and looked at Ty as if he were going through a social-life crisis and needed saving.