Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 2
Nights with Pyro were fun. When he was home, it seemed like time flew by for Chanel. He was good company and she appreciated that he was taking the time out to make sure she was okay.
“You’re a nice guy, Pyro. So when are you gonna find you a really nice girl to hold you down?” she said.
“It’s crazy out there. It’s hard to find a shorty with a good head on her shoulders.”
“They’re out there.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe she’ll come along unexpectedly,” he replied.
“She will.”
***
Pyro came strolling into Mateo’s room just after 2pm the next day carrying a small leather duffel bag. Mateo was watching college basketball—Duke versus North Carolina—and Pyro immediately felt nostalgic. His missed his best friend. As soon as Mateo saw him, his eyes lit up as they gave each other dap.
“What’s up? You lookin’ better,” Pyro cheerily announced.
Mateo struggled to sit up straight. Unassisted, he gripped the handrails on his twin bed and propped himself up. Both knew that Pyro was forbidden to help per the instructions from Kyle, the physical therapist.
Finally, Mateo replied, “I’m good. I’m stronger.”
“I see that,” Pyro agreed. “But you lookin’ a little rough. You scarin’ all the women.”
Mateo grinned, and his hand slowly went up and touched his facial hair. Since the incident, his short hair had grown into a small man bun, and he was sporting a full beard and mustache. Pyro opened his duffel, where he kept his clippers. He wanted to cut off Mateo’s locks and remove all his facial hair.
Mateo watched Pyro like a hawk and quickly noticed that he didn’t add a comb to his clippers.
“I’ma give you a quick buzz cut, and when you get outta here Bolo gonna hook you—”
Pyro couldn’t finish his sentence before Mateo was shaking his head. “No, leave it.”
Pyro stood with the trimmers in his hand looking perplexed. “Bruh, why I’m here then?”
Mateo didn’t answer right away. Sometimes it took longer than usual to reply to questions as his brain searched to form his sentences. He knew what he wanted to say, but it was like he had to line his words up and then spit them out. Eventually, he replied, “Just hit my edges and sideburns and shave this beard off.”
“Have you seen ya hair?” Pyro pulled out a hand mirror and handed it to Mateo. “You lookin’ a little metro wit’ that girl bun.”
Mateo heard Pyro loud and clear, but he was too busy checking out his reflection. “Chanel likes it.”
Pyro chuckled. “Whatever, man.”
As Pyro tightened up Mateo’s hairline, he was stopped every few minutes. Mateo kept taking mirror breaks to make sure he wasn’t fucking it up.
“C’mon, Miss America!” Pyro joked. “I got this.”
The two conversed about their business, the stock market, and how Chanel was progressing while Pyro’s sharp razor and steady hands shaved off Mateo’s beard. When he was done, he felt like he had surpassed his own expectations. He handed Mateo the mirror and then stood back to admire his handiwork. The man bun, sideburns, and mustache worked for him. His soft, jet-black hair, chiseled jaw line, and thick eyebrows made him look like a different dude, Pyro thought. Still thuggish, but not street.
“Damn, you pretty,” he admonished. “You might be onto something wit’ this hair shit.”
“They all gonna want me, Pyro,” Mateo bragged. “But my heart belongs to one woman.”
“Shit, give ’em to me then.”
Pyro stayed well past ten that night. He got them dinner and came back, but the staff had to insist that he leave once they realized that he had sneaked in a bottle of Hennessy, even though Mateo didn’t partake in the brown juice.
Pyro promised Mateo he would come back in a couple of days. Leaving was always bittersweet.
Chapter Twelve