Page 62 of So This Is Love

Today was another dayof working later than I intended because I was so wrapped up in my work I didn’t realize the time. I worked on editing the pictures from my photoshoot with Bryce and trying to get started on putting all of the pieces of the campaign together. I sent over a few of my favorite pictures to him while I was editing and he loved them, responding with a bunch of fire emojis and truly hyping me up more than himself even though he was the focus of the photo.

Of course I also forgot to eat, but instead of eating alone, I decided to order Jamaican food for Zara and I to eat in between her clients. I pick up the food from the restaurant and the walk to the shop that Zara works at, which is only a couple of streets over.

Marcus, the owner of the shop, is lining someone up in his chair when I step through the front door. He gives me a silent hello with a head nod and I give him one of my own before walking back towards Zara’s area. None of the other barbers acknowledge me as I make my way to the back. Some of themglance in my direction, but they quickly avert their eyes back to their clients without a word.

Zara is walking out of the laundry area, rolling a laundry cart full of towels when she sees me with the bags of food.

“Ahhh, you’re the best. Let me put these away really quick and I’ll meet you in the break room.”

“Okay.”

The break room is a small room with an old fridge that makes a bunch of noises and a small table with mismatched chairs. I set the bags on the table and pull out the cartons of food. My stomach growls as I pull each thing out, jerk chicken, rice and peas, cabbage and yams. All of it smells delicious and I can’t help but dive in.

Five minutes later Zara comes and joins me.

“I am so tired of cleaning up after these grown ass men,” Zara says, plopping down in the seat next to me.

“Is it still that bad?”

“Niggas act like they’re allergic to cleaning up and doing laundry but what else is new.” Zara rolls her eyes. “I walked into the shop this morning and there were two clean towels. What the hell are we supposed to do with that?”

I shake my head in disbelief. “Is Marcus doing anything about it?”

For the past few months Zara has told me about how frustrated she’s been with her job. Nothing to do with her clients, or her actual work, but everything else that comes along with working with other people. Lack of cleaning up after themselves and simply being inconsiderate were at the top of her list of annoyances.

“He says he’s talked to the guys, but nothing’s changed, so the ‘talking’ isn’t doing a damn thing.”

“Have you put any more thought into leaving?” I ask, my voice low to avoid anyone overhearing.

“Yeah, but there aren’t a ton of options. I love working in Rosewood, but most of the other shops don’t have any open chairs, or if they do the vibes are terrible.”

Zara is arguably the best barber in Rosewood and the people who would argue against me are probably misogynistic who don’t think a woman can do the job as well as a man. Her books are usually filled up weeks in advance and all of her clients are loyal and rave about her all over social media.

“Yeah, well we gotta keep looking cause the vibes here aren’t it either.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” she says.

I haven't seen Zara much this past weekend so as we eat, we fill each other in on everything that’s new. For her it’s a new guy that’s been added to her roster. She went to an art gallery exhibition and hooked up with one of the artists. For me, it leaves me talking about Bryce. I tell her about my time at his mom’s birthday party last week.

“I had a really good time,” I say, finishing the story. “Being around his family was nice.”

“Meeting the family,” Zara says, raising her eyebrows. "Interesting."

“What?”

“That’s not casual shit.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Just because it doesn’t have to mean anything, doesn’t mean that it doesn’t mean anything,” Zara says. “Did he introduce you to everyone as his friend?”

“Well no, he introduced me as Laila and …”

I pause knowing my next words would just prove Zara’s point.

“And?”

“There was a time when he was talking to his uncle and he called me ‘his girl’ but -”

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