“I’ll make sure to steer him in the right direction, Lady J,” Nigel says, smiling. I know he’s got our backs. Our crew can be a little crazy at times, but we’re here for each other, no matter how out of hand things can get.
2
Mi Vida Loca
But I’m a rebel stressin’ / To pull out of the heat no doubt.
—N AS
W hen I was a little girl, days home from school felt like a dream that lasted all day long. Mama would let me stay home whenever I asked—whether the request was verbal or not. At the slightest sniffle or bad dream, a phone call was made to the attendance office: No one at any of my schools ever questioned my grandmother’s judgment. Once Mama’s mind is made up, that’s it—no discussion allowed, especially if it’s about one of her own.
Keeping my mom’s powers in spite of the crazy daydream I had in the shower this morning is my main priority this afternoon, even if Mama’s adamantly against me doing so. Maybe with Netta there to have my back and the sweet spell I put on her and my mom a couple of months ago still in effect I can convince her to let me keep them a little while longer. Between hotheaded friends and crazy baby mamas, I need to maintain the ability to chill people’s minds out now more than ever.
The sweet scent of strawberries and peaches leads me from the parking lot toward the front door of Netta’s Never Nappy Beauty Shop, where Mama and Netta are already locking up for the day. They never close the salon early, so something must be wrong.
“Hi, Mama and Netta,” I say, noticing their upbeat mood. At least I know whatever’s going on isn’t too serious.
“Little Jayd, you’re just in time to help us,” Netta says, passing me two large paper bags filled with supplies. There are several more on the ground in front of the door.
“How was your day, baby?” Mama asks, kissing me on the cheek and heading toward the parking lot.
Why are they acting like they’re not messing with my money? I need to work this afternoon. “Where are all the clients?” I ask, turning around and following my grandmother and godmother. “And why are we leaving the shop?” Maybe there was an outbreak or something. I can’t believe there’s no work to do. These women always have a honey-do list at least two feet long.
“So many questions for a young queen in training,” Netta says teasingly, going back for the rest of the items. I place the bags in the passenger seat and head back for the last one.
“We have a lot of work to do and need the family shrines to get it done,” Mama says, loading the back of Netta’s pickup with stuff of her own. She’s still not comfortable riding in the car with me and probably never will be. I say she and Nellie need to get licenses. It’s unimaginable to me that they would rather depend on others for a ride than to drive their own cars.
“We’ll meet you back at the house,” Netta says, getting behind the wheel and starting the massive truck’s engine. Mama pulls herself into the passenger seat and shuts the heavy door. Netta’s husband usually drives her around, but she’s got the keys today. They still haven’t explained how I’m supposed to make my money for the afternoon. Hopefully I’ll pick up a few more personal clients to make up my weekly quota.
“There are some things more important than money,chile,” my grandmother says through the open window, wiping her brow. She’s wearing her salt-and-pepper hair up in a white scarf this afternoon, showing off her dazzling green eyes and caramel complexion, making her look much younger than her fifty-plus years. “Especially doing work that can help us stay in the ancestors’ and orishas’ good favor.”
Mama’s right. Without them, none of the good in life would be possible. It’s time to get my hands dirty and give thanks for all of my blessings, no matter how overwhelmed I may feel.
“Place the bags on your bed, Jayd,” Mama says, unlocking the bedroom door and
2
Mi Vida Loca
But I’m a rebel stressin’ / To pull out of the heat no doubt.
—N AS
W hen I was a little girl, days home from school felt like a dream that lasted all day long. Mama would let me stay home whenever I asked—whether the request was verbal or not. At the slightest sniffle or bad dream, a phone call was made to the attendance office: No one at any of my schools ever questioned my grandmother’s judgment. Once Mama’s mind is made up, that’s it—no discussion allowed, especially if it’s about one of her own.
Keeping my mom’s powers in spite of the crazy daydream I had in the shower this morning is my main priority this afternoon, even if Mama’s adamantly against me doing so. Maybe with Netta there to have my back and the sweet spell I put on her and my mom a couple of months ago still in effect I can convince her to let me keep them a little while longer. Between hotheaded friends and crazy baby mamas, I need to maintain the ability to chill people’s minds out now more than ever.
The sweet scent of strawberries and peaches leads me from the parking lot toward the front door of Netta’s Never Nappy Beauty Shop, where Mama and Netta are already locking up for the day. They never close the salon early, so something must be wrong.
“Hi, Mama and Netta,” I say, noticing their upbeat mood. At least I know whatever’s going on isn’t too serious.
“Little Jayd, you’re just in time to help us,” Netta says, passing me two large paper bags filled with supplies. There are several more on the ground in front of the door.
“How was your day, baby?” Mama asks, kissing me on the cheek and heading toward the parking lot.
Why are they acting like they’re not messing with my money? I need to work this afternoon. “Where are all the clients?” I ask, turning around and following my grandmother and godmother. “And why are we leaving the shop?” Maybe there was an outbreak or something. I can’t believe there’s no work to do. These women always have a honey-do list at least two feet long.
“So many questions for a young queen in training,” Netta says teasingly, going back for the rest of the items. I place the bags in the passenger seat and head back for the last one.
“We have a lot of work to do and need the family shrines to get it done,” Mama says, loading the back of Netta’s pickup with stuff of her own. She’s still not comfortable riding in the car with me and probably never will be. I say she and Nellie need to get licenses. It’s unimaginable to me that they would rather depend on others for a ride than to drive their own cars.
“We’ll meet you back at the house,” Netta says, getting behind the wheel and starting the massive truck’s engine. Mama pulls herself into the passenger seat and shuts the heavy door. Netta’s husband usually drives her around, but she’s got the keys today. They still haven’t explained how I’m supposed to make my money for the afternoon. Hopefully I’ll pick up a few more personal clients to make up my weekly quota.
“There are some things more important than money,chile,” my grandmother says through the open window, wiping her brow. She’s wearing her salt-and-pepper hair up in a white scarf this afternoon, showing off her dazzling green eyes and caramel complexion, making her look much younger than her fifty-plus years. “Especially doing work that can help us stay in the ancestors’ and orishas’ good favor.”
Mama’s right. Without them, none of the good in life would be possible. It’s time to get my hands dirty and give thanks for all of my blessings, no matter how overwhelmed I may feel.
“Place the bags on your bed, Jayd,” Mama says, unlocking the bedroom door and
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