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.

Alone didn’t mean he was lonely. He was simply waiting. He knew his queen would come.

His father had practiced the Muslim faith all his life, claiming Islam as a way to live righteously. Said it was those lessons that taught him discipline and what it meant to be a black man in America and how to survive. He instilled a lot of the Muslim principles and teachings in him, but Ty wasn’t an active Muslim man. He didn’t do salat—daily prayers, he never fasted, and he surely didn’t read the Quran. Not anymore. When his father died, it was as if he’d taken Ty’s faith with him. He’d learned life was about heartaches, trials and tribulations, and he’d been taught that a man is measured by how he weathers those storms. So he knew he’d failed that test when his father died. It was just too hard. Now all he could hope for was that his good deeds were being counted so that he’d still be blessed. Hoped his triumphs were more than his mistakes.

“Mo, your three o’clock is here,” Sharain said when she came in, bringing a robust scent of curl activator and white musk with her.

Mo shoved her plastic container back inside the small refrigerator and pushed the door closed. “Damnit. I thought I’d get a chance to nibble on my lunch. Geez. Black people don’t know how to show up late anymore?” She grumbled on her way out, leaving Ty alone in the room with her boss.

“You got my order?” she asked, coming to stand beside him. Close beside him.

Good afternoon to you too. Instead of being concerned for her lack of manners Ty opened his book bag and pulled out a tightly wrapped package the size of a shoebox.

“Yes.” She grinned at him and began tearing up the plastic.

“Whoa.” Ty hovered his hand over hers. “You know my rules. I don’t see or know what’s in the packages you request from Cheddar.”

“Oh you and your rules,” she cooed. “It’s only new sheers.”

Ty gritted his teeth. His pseudo-employer, Cheddar—nicknamed appropriately because of his clout to get any merchandise a business needed—made sure Ty never saw what he acquired and packaged up. Ty didn’t want to know. Still, he wasn’t a fool, he understood Cheddar most likely didn’t get his merchandise from the retailer, it was more like from underpaid, immoral warehouse workers. But if a person had a privately-owned business and needed cheap merchandise fast, then Cheddar was the man to go to. Ty sometimes made deliveries for him because Cheddar wasn’t into guns or drugs, and it paid well enough that he never had to touch his savings.

It wasn’t easy for Ty to stay under the radar. Everyone knew of him but didn’t really know him, not even his real name. No one did. Not even Cheddar. When Ty made a delivery, he was in and out before they even opened the box. Gone without as much as an ‘enjoy your purchase’. He didn’t work for Sears, he could care less if they were happy with what they got. Cheddar didn’t have a return policy.

“I understand your rule. I didn’t mean to upset you, Ty. I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t anything crazy.” She touched her hand to her chest but Ty kept his eyes on hers. “I run a respectable business. Always have.”

“Have a nice evening.” Ty slung his bag onto his back and went to move around her, but she stopped him before he could reach the door. He heard loud laughter outside and the music had gone up a few notches, indicating more customers had arrived. He needed to go.

“I was wondering before you hurried off, if you wanted me to maybe tighten your fade up. No charge.” She went to smooth her palm over the deep waves in his hair but he pulled back.

“I’m good. Appreciate it.”

“Who cuts your hair anyway? I always meant to ask you that.”

I do.

“They do a good job. It’s healthy. Do you go to a shop?”

“Cheddar said the order you placed this week will be in on Monday.”

She nodded, taking the brush off, still standing in front of the door. Ty wasn’t an intimidating man at first glance. He stood at six-feet-one and his frame wasn’t overly muscular, with a natural build. He had stamina, definition and cut but he didn’t have to spend hours in a gym for it. Just damn good genes. He had on dark blue jeans and a white tee under his black fleece-lined jean coat. His fresh white Jordans set off the smooth, harmless ’brotha look, the façade he used to lead others to believe he was.

“Look. I know you’re one of the good ones around here, ya’know. I don’t see you on the corner slinging, or hanging with the thugs, you just do you and I like that. You’re polite and you don’t call any of us ‘hoes’ and ‘bitches’ when you come in.” Her hand slowly grazed his before she pulled away. Her eyes were downcast, but her body language didn’t say she was meek or mild. Ty could feel the heat rising from her and knew what she really wanted. “I hear what they say about you. That you’re waiting on the perfect woman to compliment a good man as yourself.”

How would she know if I’m a good man or not? Ty glanced over her curvy frame. He did it quickly and discreetly. He wasn’t immune to her beauty. He was controlled but he was still a red-blooded man and his pseudo-reborn-virgin-like status was getting old fast. He needed to socialize more and meet more people in his age group.

“I’d like to get to know you better,” she said softly.

He always thought Sharain was nice, even though he didn’t get a queen feel from her. Maybe he hadn’t given her a real chance. He liked that she had goals and aspirations to expand her business to other cities, and he also knew that she provided free hair care to women in underprivileged neighborhoods.  His neighborhood. She had a kind heart…that’s a start, right?

“I can see you thinking so hard.” She laughed lightly, batting her eyes. Her lips spread across her face, the creamy tan gloss drawing his attention as she licked the tip of her tongue over her plump bottom one. His groin warmed, but not much. He wanted to feel more. “We don’t have to go out. You can come over to my house. A little company, some music over getting to know one another, nothing serious. Friends.”

Company did sound better than eating alone like he did every night. “Sure, I can do that.”

“Really?” She smiled, clasping her hands together.

Ty smirked at her silliness. He was no prize. Just a man.

“And I got a little smile too.” She brushed past him, looking up into his eyes as she did. “My place, seven o’clock. And bring that smile, handsome.”

Ty left the shop feeling lighter than usual. He had a date. For the first time in two years, he had a date. He should’ve been more excited, but part of him already wanted to cancel. He knew the fire was missing but maybe they could create a spark…and then…

Ty sighed. He knew it didn’t work that way.