Chapter 3

Tate

 

Later that week

 

“What’s wrong, Mr. Mopey Ass?” Dani had cornered Tate in the break room. He had hoped to wrap up his lunch break before Dani finished her client and came back there to grill him about being so down for the past few days, but he hadn’t eaten fast enough and now he was trapped.

He breathed in, leaning back in the chair at the small card table in the middle of the room, sharing part of what was bothering him. “Sunday dinner tomorrow.”

Dani opened her mouth in a silent “oh” and slipped into the plain black folding chair across from him in the sparse break room. It had the same concrete floors as the shop but the plain white walls with safety and regulation posters and supply stacked shelves kept it from having the vibrant personality of the public areas. The stark, unimaginative space matched Tate’s mood at the moment. He poked at his lunch a couple more times before abandoning his fork in the container.

Dani knew how miserable Sunday dinners had become for Tate, to the point that he only went once every few months instead of weekly. But even though he was miserable most of the time he was there, not seeing his family made him feel dejected. The fact that no one even cared that he didn’t come every week made him feel even worse. They were all just as relieved as he was that he wasn’t there, but that felt like a betrayal to Tate.

Dani pulled the takeout container with Tate’s half eaten lunch toward her, picking up his fork before taking a bite. “Poor thing,” Dani said around a mouth full of shrimp and sautéed veggies. “I should have known, especially considering you came in with your pick-me-up pumps on and I knew things were bad.”

Tate grinned. Everyone knew that if he showed up to work wearing his Kelly-green suede pumps that he was in a funk and trying hard to pull himself out of it.

“It was that or call in and dump all my clients on you and the rest of the ladies today.” His stomach had been so knotted up he hadn’t wanted to leave the house, which was unusual, because even when he was down, he’d rather be at his shop. But this morning, he had put his big boy panties on—literally, they were these black lace briefs that felt sexy against his skin, and displayed his ass to perfection making him smile when he wore them—and come in to work. Tate wasn’t going to let his anxiety over dinner with his family tomorrow keep him from doing what he loved—hair. He’d be fine.

And Sunday dinner was the only thing bothering Tate. He wasn’t bothered at all that he hadn’t seen his upstairs neighbor after said neighbor had passed on asking him out. And he absolutely hadn’t felt an irrational need to stick close to his desolate apartment until he ran into Reece and his daughter again. No, Tate was just bent out of shape about having to spend most of his day off with his homophobic family tomorrow.

He stood, pulling his apron from the counter beside him that also held a sink and microwave.

“My mom called and guilt-tripped me into coming,” he said, tying on his half apron explaining how he’d gotten roped into dinner. “I haven’t met my new niece yet. And apparently my brother Derek has some new girl he’s been bringing around. So, I agreed to go to get it over with, but I’ll be fine.” Tate headed toward the door, not wanting to be late for his next appointment.

Dani shrugged from her seat at the table, taking another bite of his food. “Hmm, well, luckily it will all be over tomorrow. Hell, I thought you were upset because your hot neighbor hasn’t dropped by for a walk-in hair appointment.”

Damn. How did she know? Tate didn’t realize he’d paused with his hand on the door until Dani tilted her head, her eyes wide.

“Tate? Oh, my lord, boy. That is what’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

Tate snorted, shoving his hands down the front pockets of his apron, avoiding Dani’s gaze.

“You like him, don’t you?” Dani asked Tate.

His instinct was to crack a joke about how liking the man’s toned ass wasn’t the same as liking the man himself, but his protective exterior cracked and his real feelings seeped out into the room. He looked at the floor, and then back up, ready to be met with teasing but instead met wide, searching brown eyes.

He leaned against the door, hands still in his apron. “I think I do. I thought he might be into me too—”

Dani tilted her head, forehead scrunched. Tate groaned and walked back to the table before plopping down in a chair, chin on his palm. “He’s bi.”

Dani nodded in understanding but stayed silent, giving him the space to talk.

“We were vibing, you know? Like, there was a little spark there,” Tate said.

“Then, when he was over at my place, I told him I would say yes if he asked me out, but he left without asking, and I haven’t even really heard him or the kid moving around upstairs since…” Tate trailed off.

Dani waved her hands in front of her, a look of dismay on her golden-skinned freckled face. “Hold up, hold up what was homeboy doing at your house?”

Tate checked his cell phone to make sure he still had time before his next client showed then brought Dani up to speed. Tate had told her about stomping up to the neighbor’s house only to find the DILF from the beauty shop and the man’s adorable spawn lived above him, but for some reason, Tate hadn’t told her about the night he’d braided LJ’s hair at his place. The night Reece had rejected him.

“Damn, T. So, what are you going to do?”

Tate slid out of his chair and headed toward the door. “Not a damn thing.”

“Tate?” Dani’s voice stopped him, his hand on the knob.

Tate groaned but didn’t shut her down. She continued. “This shop, successful as it is, isn’t your life, just a part of it. And if you wanted to be single, I’d say go for it. Do you. But you don’t really want to be alone?”

Tate’s shoulders sagged. “No.”

Dani gave a curt nod. “Just, stay open to the idea of being with someone, okay? And stop hiding behind this crazy efficient exterior and actually put some effort into creating a balanced life for yourself. And you can start by decorating that depressing ass apartment.”

Tate rolled his eyes.

“Uh-uh,” Dani admonished. “Don’t roll your eyes. You know I’m right. Tate, I just want you to give someone a chance to support you and care for you like you care for everyone who walks through these shop doors.” Dani’s words wrapped around Tate like an embrace, but he played off his emotion and laughed.

“Damn, girl, you running a side hustle as a life coach or something?”

Dani tossed her hair. “Boy, please. We’re beauticians. Life coaching is part of the job description.”

***

Back out on the floor, while washing Nora’s hair at the sink, Tate tried to push down his disappointment and stress but found himself confronting it instead. Yes, he’d finally admitted to himself he was disappointed that Reece hadn’t asked him out. That disappointment, coupled with his anxiety about the upcoming Sunday dinner, had made him increasingly miserable…and lonely. Dani was right, he needed to make some kind of life for himself.

Eventually he’d get over the cute dad upstairs, even though the rejection stung at the moment, but there wasn’t much he could do about the years of Sunday dinners. He’d have to face the censure of his father, his brothers, their partners and happy families over and over till the day he died.

He groaned under his breath at the thought, rinsing the suds from Nora’s hair, her eyes now closed and her mouth slack in relaxation. It might be easier to bear if he had someone of his own at this side, and he briefly envisioned a smiling Reece at his mother’s table, and a giggling LJ bossing the younger children at the kids’ table.

Tate pumped some conditioner into his hand, warming at the thought. Reece was the kind of man his father, Tate Sr., respected. He clearly did some kind of physical labor every day, and there wasn’t an effeminate bone in his body. Tate was pretty sure Reece would get along well with his brothers too.

But aside from all that, Tate liked the kind of man Reece was. Tenacious. Resourceful. Kind. So damn good with his kid. Tate loved that Reece let LJ be herself. Her football playing, princess-loving self. That was the kind of man he’d consider having a family of his own with. The kind of man he’d be proud to take home.

Tate worked the conditioner through Nora’s wavy strands, imagining introducing Reece to his parents, brothers, and their partners. But then the little vision dissolved like sidewalk chalk in rain as he remembered overhearing a conversation his parents had had a couple years after he’d come out.

 

“So, he’s gay, fine. Does he have to be so damn obvious? So, flamboyant? Shoving it in people’s faces with the damn makeup and heels, Nell?”

Tate’s eyes welled listening to his father as he stood against the wall just outside the kitchen where his parents couldn’t see him. He had gone downstairs to grab a snack and take a break from studying, but he’d hid when he heard his parents say his name.

“Maybe he’ll grow out of it,” his mother had responded. “Maybe he’s just doing this to be shocking, to challenge everyone. I think once he gets serious about being with someone, he’ll bring it down. No other man’s going to want him dressing and acting like that, gay or not.”

His father had groaned. “Lord-a-mercy, I hadn’t even thought about that. I don’t know if I could deal with that, Nell. Him bringing a man here as his, what, boyfriend?”

 

So, to keep the peace, Tate had toned it down at Sunday dinner, made himself scarce, and never brought a man home, and hadn’t considered it the two times he’d been on the verge of a serious relationship.

As he rinsed the conditioner from Nora’s hair—the woman didn’t stir as she continued to cat nap—he resolved to stop daydreaming and keep doing what he’d always done and what was expected of him. He’d keep his head down and not make waves when it came to dealing with his parents and siblings. He twisted Nora’s hair, wringing the water from it before gently rousing her.

***

After finishing Nora’s hair, Tate had styled a mother and daughter who had come in for mani-pedis as well, and now, he was finishing up Vicky who had come in after them.

“But, Tate, I’m telling you the girl looked at me sideways, you know what I’m saying?” Vicky said.

Tate met his client’s imploring gaze in the mirror as he shook his head, parting her hair. “Vicky, sweetheart, I don’t care if her head spun and she spewed vomit on you like that girl in the Exorcist—”

“Oooh, I love that movie,” interjected Mother Stevens from underneath the hair dryer, her legs crossed primly, the hem of her black dress brushing just below her knee. Some of the other stylists agreed, the room buzzing with conversation.

Tate continued, reaching for the curling iron heating in the mini stove on top of his station. “You don’t curse out your coworkers, and especially not on the floor in front of customers.”

Vicky sank down in the chair, her mouth looking mutinous.

Tate waved the curling iron at her reflection in the mirror. “Uh-uh, don’t give me that look. You asked for my opinion. I’m telling you. I would have fired your behind too.”

Vicky’s mouth dropped open as Tate slid the irons back into the stove. “For real, Tate? You would have fired me?”

He tapped her shoulder. “Sit up so I can finish curling you. And yes, I would have fired you, Vick. That kind of behavior is unprofessional.” He wrapped her hair around the iron.

“And unbecoming of a lady,” added Mother Stevens, lifting the dryer slightly.

Vicky sucked her teeth, looking at Mother Stevens’s reflection in the mirror. “No disrespect, Mother Stevens, but I ain’t no lady. I’m a grown ass woman, and I keep it one hundred.”

Mother Stevens looked over at Dani who was working beside Tate, hands gloved as she slathered relaxer onto her client’s hair. “What’s this child talking about?” Mother Stevens asked.

Dani sniggered. “Basically she’s saying she’s not going to pretend to like someone if she hates them.”

“Hmm.” Mother Stevens nodded. “I probably keep things about fifty. Can’t be one hundred all the time.” The old woman leaned back in her seat, dropping the dryer back over her head fully.

Tate caught up another section of Vicky’s hair in his irons, catching Vicky’s eye in the mirror again. “Exactly, Mother Stevens. That’s what being an adult is actually about. Knowing when to turn it on and off. And that doesn’t make you any less of a genuine person, Vicky. It just makes you smart and responsible. You have a two-year-old. You need that job, girl. Don’t let other people mess with your money.”

The girl still had a frown on her face, but she dropped her gaze and didn’t argue with Tate. Vicky had been his client for a few years now. He liked the twenty-two-year-old young woman, and she had a good heart, but she was an immature hothead who needed to get her priorities straight.

“Damn. You right, Tate.” The woman actually looked a little sheepish.

Tate slid the irons back into the stove and pulled out a pen before ripping a piece of paper off a small notepad at his station.

He wrote down a number, thrusting it at Vicky. “Here. This is the name and number of a client who owns her own business. She needs an administrative assistant. It’s only thirty hours a week, but she specifically said she wants to hire someone from the community who can maybe grow into the role.”

Vicky snuck a hand out from under the black cape and took the paper, looking at it before glancing at Tate’s reflection in the mirror, a broad smile on her face. “Seriously? Thanks, Tate.”

“Don’t thank me,” Tate said, leaning forward to pull the irons from the stove again. “Just don’t make me sorry I’m recommending you.”

Vicky gulped, eyes big. “I won’t screw up, Tate. I swear.”

Tough love dispensed, Tate nodded and curled another section of Vicky’s hair. “Good. I’ll call her Monday morning. You give her a call in the afternoon.”

“I will.” Vicky nodded, bumping her head into the hot iron. “Ow,” she yelped.

Tate shook his head, unwinding the strand and placing the irons back in the stove. “Bet I won’t have to tell you to keep still again.”

Tate finished curling Vicky’s hair and brought his next client back, quickly washing and drying her hair. He’d been able to distract himself from his worries for the rest of the day, finding peace and calm in focusing on each client and their needs and teasing with people in the shop. But then his calm went to shit when Reece came traipsing into the shop later that afternoon, a disheveled LJ in tow.

Tate was both elated and annoyed, his belly flipping and his cheeks heating. How dare Reece turn him down, avoid him, then show up and tie Tate up in knots again after Tate had just untangled himself. Ugh.

Tate tried to play it cool, glancing at a nervous-looking Reece as he flat-ironed his current client’s hair, gripping the tool so it didn’t slip in his increasingly sweaty hands.

“Hi, Reece. Do you have an appointment today? I didn’t see you on my calendar, and you seem to have bypassed the reception desk.”

The receptionist stood behind Reece, an annoyed look on her face. Tate waved her away, and she shook her head, backing out of the doorway.

Reece shuffled his feet, sticking his hands in his pockets, before LJ bumped his hip with her elbow. “Uh, hey, Tate. No. No, I don’t have an appointment, but I was hoping you could maybe squeeze us in?”

LJ smiled up at Tate and his poker face cracked as the other stylists in the room whispered among themselves, looking between him and Reece.

“I had a game today, Mr. Tate. My team won, and I got an interception, too. But my helmet came off when I scored, and I got a bunch of grass and stuff in my hair,” LJ said as she walked over to him so he could get a better look.

Tate slid the flat iron he’d been using into the stove, then cradled LJ’s head in his hands, turning it from side to side. Yep. The kid definitely looked like she’d been rolling around in the grass. Tate released her, then removed his flat iron. He could tell from the amount of steam curling around the iron that it was too hot this time so he laid it on a folded cloth on top of his station so it could cool. 

“We’re going to need to wash your hair, ladybug.” He sighed then looked over at Reece who looked hopeful. The truth was that Tate didn’t actually want to tell Reece no. When it came to Reece, Tate wanted to say yes to a lot of things, even LJ’s hair. But he actually couldn’t fit them in today. And even if he could, after Reece had basically turned him down, he thought it best to stay distant.

Tate parted his client’s hair then grabbed the flat iron, pressing the strands between the irons, his motions noticeably jerky from excited nerves.

“I have two more clients after this, Reece. Saturday is my biggest day…but maybe one of the other stylists can help you?” Tate knew Dani’s last appointment had cancelled on her.

“I’ve got an event tonight,” Dani said quickly, avoiding Tate’s eyes.

He slid his flat iron back into the stove, putting a hand on his hip. “What event?” He glanced her way, but Dani stayed focused on her client, not meeting his gaze.

“You know, that…thing…that’s been planned for, like, weeks that I have to go to.” She finally looked up at Tate, eyes wide, trying to convey innocence. Traitor. He cut his eyes at her. Fine. She didn’t want to do it, one of the other girls was bound to help.

Tate turned around, catching the eye of the woman at the station directly across from him. “Mia, can you fit in LJ? She needs a wash and to have her hair braided.”

Mia bit her lip, her gaze shifting to Dani then back at him. What the hell?

“Uh, sorry, boss. I just, um, you see I got my period. And I’m cramping pretty bad. After I finish this appointment, I’m gonna go home and take like three pain pills and knock out. Sorry,” she mumbled.

Tate’s eyes snapped to the woman working at the station next to Mia. “Avery?”

“No can do, Tatey. I have a hot date I need to go get a wax for and—”

He put up a hand, glancing at a curious LJ and a red-faced Reece. “We got it, Avery. No additional explanation needed.”

He scanned the room. The women’s faces ranged from guilty to tickled. Someone had even turned the music down. So, it was like that? Fuming, he glanced over at Dani whose face was smug.

Tate’s clients and staff looked between him and Reece.

“Tate, don’t you have that hose that you can attach to the sink to wash someone’s hair at home,” asked Dani, all mock innocence. “Since y’all are neighbors, why don’t you just do LJ’s hair at your house?”

LJ smiled up at him. “Yeah, Mr. Tate. You can come up to our house. And my dad can make you dinner.”

Ugh.

Reece sidled over as Tate waffled over what to do as he pulled his client’s thick tresses between the hot irons.

“I know you said we need to make an appointment, and not to make a habit of popping in on you,” Reece started. Tate shot him a brief look of annoyance before focusing on straightening his customer’s hair again. Reece continued. “I know this is looking like a habit…It’s just kind of hard for me to make it here during regular business hours between work, school for me and LJ, and her football practice.”

“Clearly,” Tate spat out, making Reece grimace. For a moment, Tate thought Reece was going to just walk away, and he internally chastised himself for berating the guy, but Reece shoved his hands in his jeans pockets.

“Well, I was wondering if maybe we could make some kind of arrangement?”

Tate laid the iron back on the cloth at his station and pulled his hair shears out to trim his customer. Tate tapped her shoulder. “Head down, sweetie.” He looked over at Reece, jutting his chin. “Go on,” Tate prompted.

Reece swallowed. “Well, when I was at your place last week, I noticed that you don’t seem to cook much.”

“You mean you noticed he isn’t much of a cook?” quipped Dani. Tate stopped snipping.

“You want to be a smartass while I have scissors in my hand?” Tate asked. “Be my guest, sister.”

Dani just laughed as Reece continued.

“Anyway, I’m, uh, a pretty good cook. I was thinking, maybe I could trade you. Dinner three times a week for touching up LJ’s hair?”

Reece put his hand on top of his daughter’s wild hair. “You can come up and do it while I finish the meal. You don’t have to worry about food or dishes. Then when she needs it washed once a week I can pay full price?”

Tate kept his eyes glued on the scissors, expertly pulling the strands out to the ends, clipping them, then threading his fingers through the strands and moving on to the next section. His outer calm didn’t betray the million butterflies bouncing around in his gut at the prospect of seeing Reece regularly. Tate glanced over at Dani under his lashes. She raised her eyebrows in challenge, and he tried to still the flapping wings in his stomach.

“Okay, fine. But I want dinner and furniture assembly or repairs.”

Reece’s face lit up, and LJ stuck out her little hand. “Deal, Mr. Tate.”

Laughs and giggles bounced around the room at LJ’s antics, and Reece shook his head. Tate set his scissors on top of his station, smiling at the little girl before meeting her dad’s gaze. Reece nodded, and Tate enclosed LJ’s hand in his own.

“Deal. I’ll see you both tonight.”

They agreed to meet at Reece’s upstairs apartment in a few hours, and Tate waved goodbye as the two left.

“You trading styles for meals now, T?” Avery teased from across the room.

Dani squawked, “Have you tasted his cooking? T is coming out on top in this deal. Trust.”

“I don’t think he’s as interested in eating the man’s food,” chimed in a leering Mia, “as much as he is in eating the man’s—”

“Hey! Hey! We have the elderly in here,” Tate admonished, looking over at Mother Stevens who had stuck around after having her hair, toes, and fingernails done, and had been nodding off in one of the vacant hair dryer seats. The woman spent at least two days a month at the shop, but Tate didn’t mind. He kind of thought of her as their unofficial mascot, and she was a little lonely because most of her kids lived far away.

Mother Stevens waved her bony weathered hand at him, now wide awake. “Honey, I’m elderly not dead. I been around long enough to know what she means by ‘eating.’ Some things translate no matter if it’s a man and woman or two men or two women. Though, I do wonder—”

Tate cut her off. “Nope. Nuh-uhn. Don’t want to know what you wonder. Dang, Mother Stevens, you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”  

Avery walked over and gave Mother Stevens a fist pound as Dani winked at Tate.

It wasn’t the date he’d hoped for, but Tate had another opportunity to hang out with Reece and LJ, and he was excited about it. Even if nothing came of it, he’d enjoy whatever amount of time he got to spend with the handsome single dad.