Locks:
Often called dreadlocks.
Twisted, matted, ropes of hair.
~~~
Hair
tip#7: Dreadlocks are a big commitment but not as big as you think. There are
several YouTube videos showing how people have unlocked their hair and kept
their length. It is a process that takes several days, but it can be done. If
you’re not sure you are ready for locks, try twists that you take out and redo
every month. Your hair won’t lock, but you’ll still have a similar look, plus
twists are a great protective style meaning it protects your hair from breaking
off unnecessarily.
~~~
Most
mornings I made my own coffee at home. Life was expensive and I was too cheap
to waste five bucks a day on a cup of whipped cream with a side of caffeine.
This morning was different; however, I was in such a good mood I felt I needed
to treat myself. I also thought I needed some sort of reward for going a full
three weeks without contacting
Vinny
after my
setback.
I
was rocking my twist out so my hair looked funky and fresh. All I had to do was
whip on my skinny jeans, boots, and a cream knit sweater. My flair trench
finished off the look and I have to say that look was fierce. There's something
about when your hair does exactly what it's supposed to do that puts you in a
good mood.
Standing
in line at the Bean Machine a head of pristine dreadlocks caught my eye. That's
another side effect of going natural that I noticed. I am constantly looking at
other people's hairstyles searching for ideas or tips. This time my staring
kind of got me in trouble. The gorgeous dreadlocks happened to belong to the
head of an equally gorgeous man who completely caught me checking him out. I
turned away embarrassed. But then I was even more embarrassed when I realized
that he worked at the Bean Machine and had switched places with a coworker so
that he could take my order.
"Can
I help you?" he asked.
I
was momentarily dumbstruck as I visually drunk him all in. His skin was like
liquid dark chocolate and his voice like deep sweet wine. All in all, he was
just plain tasty.
"I
think I'll have a coffee," I said, my voice suddenly getting two pitches
higher.
He
smiled and I almost stopped breathing. "Well, I think you've come to the
right place," he said. Suddenly I couldn't stop staring at his lips. They
were thick and luscious and I wondered if they tasted like fudge. "So,
what kind of coffee would you like?"
"Uh...."
Yeah, I couldn't think straight anymore. What did he mean? Coffee was coffee. I
didn't really care what I was about to drink as long as he was going to hand it
to me.
"Don't
worry. I'll fix you something sweet," he said with a wink. He left the
register and started throwing things together. I didn't really even pay
attention to what he was putting into the cup. I was just looking at him. His
tight, neat dreads fell to the middle of his back. How long did it take him to
grow his hair that long? I wondered if I should get dreads.
"Here
you go," he said a few minutes later.
"What
is it?"
"All
you need to know is written on the cup," he winked again then went back to
helping more customers.
I
looked at the cup. Apparently all I needed to know was:
Jaames
555-1312
~~~
My
good day had gotten so much better with my trip to the coffee shop. I was going
on a date.
A date with a gorgeous man.
It would be my
first date since
Vinny
. My stomach tightened. I had
been with
Vinny
for the better part of a decade. Did
I even know how to date anymore?
And
now I was starting to panic. I dreaded calling that number written on the cup.
What was I supposed to say?
"You all right?"
Trent asked as he stepped on to
the elevator.
"Yes,
fine. Why?"
He
looked around and then back at me. "You're standing in the elevator
staring at a cup. The doors have opened and closed three times.
"Really?
Oh, right." I stepped to
the side and let Trent enter the elevator. No one else was around. With our
laid back company, none of the other employees came in until 9:30 or 10. Trent
and I were apparently morning people. We were often at the office well before
eight. We stayed out of each other's way though. Either he would go to the
break room and read the paper or I would head to the rooftop garden and read
some paper work.
Trent
pressed the eighth floor button then did what I call the awkward elevator
stare. You know when you just stare at the numbers in front of you watching
them light up as if you need the practice counting.
Standing
two feet away from a guy I hate while watching little numbers light up was
precisely when my good day went oh so wrong.
Suddenly,
the elevator stopped. It just completely stopped moving. I was stuck on an
elevator with Trent Bishop.
The
first thing that went through my mind was that I wouldn't be able to go on a
date with James now. I would never know what it would feel like to be wrapped
in his warm chocolate embrace. Yeah, a little dramatic, I know.
I
had no idea what was going on in Trent's mind. Of course, that was nothing new.
Trent closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he opened up his wallet and
took out a dollar. Holding it up, he said, "Take this please."
I
looked around. "Are you talking to me?" Stupid question yes I know
since we were the only ones in the elevator. I just didn't understand why he
was handing me a dollar. Did he expect me to dance for him or something?
"Yes, you.
Will you take it please and put
it in my jar when we get out of here?"
"I'll
take it on one condition," I said, holding my hand above the dollar.
"Yeah,
fine, anything."
"You
have to tell me what's up with the whole jar thing."
Still
holding the dollar in the air, he kept staring at the light up numbers as if
willing them to start moving again. He stuffed the dollar in his pocket, opened
up that little door with the emergency phone in it and started pushing buttons.
Then he started pushing the alarm expecting someone to contact us and tell us
help was on the way. When they didn't, he sighed and said, "Fine.” He took
the dollar out again. I grabbed it and dropped it in my purse just as he
loosened his tie and sat on the floor.
"I
used to be a pretty awful person," he began.
"You
mean, worse than you are now?"
He
glared at me. "Do you want to know about the jar or not?"
"Sorry.
Continue." I set down my purse and sat down across from him.
"I
got accustomed to watching bad music, bad movies and playing violent and
offensive video games."
"Like
what?" I asked. I don't know why I asked that. Oh who am I kidding? Yes, I
do.
"Do
you know the game Blood Kill?"
"Yep.
My boyfriend...I mean, my
ex-boyfriend created some of the graphics for that game." It was his first
project. He actually started it while he was still in college. The game was so
bloody, violent, and foul that it had been attacked by several community
decency groups which sent sales through the roof.
"Anyway,"
he continued. "Over the years I noticed that my manner of speech started
to imitate the games and movies that I was so addicted to. Normally, that
wouldn't be a problem, but eight months ago, at my grandmother's birthday I had
a little bit of an awakening."
"What
do you mean?"
"I
slipped and cursed out my eight year old cousin for spilling coleslaw on my
pants. It was embarrassing. The kid cried, my aunt cried, my grandmother cried.
A week later, my family actually had an intervention with me and made me
swear...well, promise to clean up my...potty-mouth. I tried to stop on my own,
but it was nearly impossible when all I did was watch movies and play games
with that kind of language. So I stopped watching the movies and games. I got a
little better but I still found that I slipped a lot. So I came up with the
jar. If I even think a bad word, I have to put money in. If I actually say it,
I have to pay it double."
I
thought about the jar on his desk. It was almost always nearly full by the end
of the day. Wow, that boy had a lot of dirty thoughts. But it was kind of
admirable of him that he was trying to change.
"So
what do you use the money for?"
He
shrugged.
"Cause that's a lot of
money."
"Yeah,
I know."
"I'm
sure you could buy a car or something by now."
"Yeah,
I know."
"And
I'm not talking a crappy used car. I think you could buy a Mercedes or
something with all the money that has been in that jar."
"Okay,
I get it," he said glaring at me again. I don't think I had ever actually
met his glare before. It was the first time I noticed his electric blue eyes. I
felt that electricity all through me. I turned away and stared at my coffee cup
again.
"So
what's so special about that coffee?" he asked a few moments later.
Normally,
this is way too much conversation for Trent and me. But since we were stuck in
an elevator and had nothing else to do but talk, I decided to share.
I
turned the cup around to show off the phone number. "I met a guy this
morning."
He
nodded. "Must be love," he said sarcastically. "You should go
ahead and marry him.
Today.
Why wait?"
"What
are you talking about? I just met him this morning?"
"So what?
Given that half of all marriages
end in divorce, I say you have about a 50/50 shot at a successful marriage no
matter what. Why not just marry a random person?"
I
started to dispute him until I realized he was kind of right. My parents dated
for ten years before they got married and were divorced less than three years
later. On the other hand John married Marin the day they met. Three years later
they were happier than ever.
Trent
folded his jacket into a pillow and placed it behind his head before leaning
back and closing his eyes. I guessed the conversation was over. It was our
first real conversation in the whole year and a half we had worked together. I
couldn't help but notice the undertone of bitterness in his voice when he
talked about marriage. I wondered if he spoke from experience. Maybe he was
going through a divorce and that was why he was so bitter.
"By
the way," he said a few minutes later with his eyes still closed.
"Anyone who spells James with two a's is going to be a complete
prick." Trent stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a quarter.
I
looked my coffee cup again.
Yeah,
Jaames
with two As.
Now that I thought about it, who in the
world would spell James with two 'A's?
"Why
don't you call him?" Trent asked.
"What,
now?"
He
shrugged. "Got anything better else to do?"
He
was right, of course. I didn't have anything else to do. I took out my phone.
"No bars," I said noticing the lack of reception. James with two ‘A’s
would have to wait.
Flat
Twists: Twists of hair against the scalp. They can kind of resemble corn rows.
~~~
Hair
tip#8: Flat twists are another great protective style. They look fabulous on
their own, plus after you wear them for a few days, you can undo them into a
nice twist out style.
~~~
Hair
Tip#9: The curl pattern of African American hair prevents the natural oils from
the scalp from traveling all the way to the ends of the hair. That is why black
people do not need to wash their hair as often. That is also why they have to
add oils to it. Washing the hair can strip the hair of the oils it needs to
keep from breaking. Try a co-wash in between regular washings in order to keep
as much oil and moisture in the hair as possible. A co-wash means washing your
hair with conditioner instead of shampoo.
~~~
"Why
are you flipping out?"
Carnece
asked a month
later as she sectioned my hair.
"Why?
Why,
you ask? I haven't been on a
first date in seven years. I don't even think I know how to do it anymore. I
mean, what do you do? Who pays? Is it just dinner? Is there dancing later? What
if he wants to go back to my place?"
"Why are you asking me all
this?
You're
the one who called James with two A's. What did
he
say?"
Carnece
asked. She started
adding a crème moisturizer and working it into the sections of hair.
"He
said we were going for coffee and then going to listen to a jazz combo."
"Well
then you're going for coffee and then to listen to a jazz combo,” she said.
"You
make it seem so simple."
"And
you make it seem so complicated."
She
had a point there. Maybe it was that simple. I was only going to go sit and
talk with a man who I found very attractive. We would just get to know each
other over coffee and jazz music. But that right there was intimidating enough.
I didn't want to have to get to know someone new. I wanted someone who I was
comfortable with. Someone I already knew.
I
sat in silence as
Carnece
flat twisted my hair. That
was the wrong attitude.
Vinny
was my past. Maybe
Jaames
was my future. But I'd never know if I didn't give
this dating thing a try.
~~~
We
met at the coffee shop where he worked. According to
Carnece
,
she never lets a man pick her up on the first date. She doesn't want a guy to
know where she lives until she's sure he's not a psycho. Even that backfires
though. She says sometimes the psycho part of a man doesn't come out until date
five or six and then you just have to move.
"You
look great,"
Jaames
said, giving me a hug.
"I'm so happy you called me."
"You too.
Me too.
I mean..." I took a deep breath and started over.
"You look great too. And I'm happy I
called as well. I'm sorry it took me almost a month."
Smiling
he said, "Have a seat and I'll go grab us a couple of coffees."
I
watched him walk away staring at the muscles in his butt flex under his jeans.
I was always a girl into butts. I don't know why. Mostly I liked to just admire
them. I couldn't do much more, especially considering that
Vinny
had the flattest butt of all time. I wondered what it would be like to grab
Jaames
' butt during the throes of passion. I flushed a
little. How was I already thinking about sleeping with him? Was it even common
to have sex on the first date or would he think I was a slut?
"So
how long have you worked here?" I asked when he came back trying to get my
mind of off sex and on to mundane conversation.
He
rolled up the sleeves on his crisp lavender shirt and leaned back in his chair.
"I've worked here off and on since it opened. It's my brother's shop. I
just come once in a while to help him out."
"Well,
you make great coffee," I said, taking a sip of the whip cream topped
latte he had set in front of me.
"Thanks.
But I wouldn't call it my calling or anything. It's just something I do to help
him out. I'm going to show you what I really do later tonight."
My
eyes expanded. What the hell was he talking about? Could he somehow tell that I
wanted to have sex with him? Was I that transparent? If that was the case, he
could also probably tell that I hadn't gotten any in over three months. Oh God,
how embarrassing.
"Oh
no, that's not what I mean," he said almost spilling his coffee. "I'm
a musician. The jazz combo we're going to see is mine.
The
Jaames
Monroe Trio."
"Oh,
okay." Now I felt stupid for even thinking about it.
"So what about you?
What do you do?"
I
smiled nervously. I always felt silly telling people what I did for a living. I
basically
surfed
the internet all day. It's hard to
believe there was even a market for what I did, but we had lots of business.
"I
work for a social media firm," I said.
"So
what does that mean?"
"It
means I handle the social media accounts of people that are too busy to do it
themselves."
"So
you're behind people's Facebook, blogs, and twitter."
I
nodded.
"Not only that, but Google+,
pininterest
,
tumblr
, and any other social media platforms that pop
up overnight."
"
Wow, that
actually sounds like a lot of work."
I
smiled appreciatively. Finally, someone who understood what I did on a regular
basis.
Vinny
always thought I spent my day just
playing on the internet.
Which was rather ironic since he
literally played video games all day.
"It
is a lot of work actually. For our more popular clients I could be doing more
than a hundred tweets and posts a day. Thankfully, I can schedule a lot of them
in advance and have a few hours of freedom during the day once in a while. But
even during my free time I have to do research into new avenues of reaching a
fan base."
"So
who are some of your more famous clients?"
"I
can't really say. I mean, it wouldn’t be good for business for fans to know
that their favorite celebrities aren't the ones writing the Facebook posts
they're so excited to read."
He
nodded. I liked talking to him. He understood what I did and even appreciated
it.
"What
about me?" he asked.
"Excuse
me?"
"Could
you do the social media for my jazz combo?"
"Yeah,
I think I could. What do you have so far?" I reached into my purse and
pulled out my iPhone. "What's your twitter handle?"
"Uh,
I don't have one."
"Okay,
what about your Facebook page?"
He
shook his head.
"Surely
you have a website."
"Sort of."
James
with two ‘A’s then proceeded to direct me to one of those free websites where
there was a picture of his band along with a few listings of concert dates. It
hadn't even been updated in over two months.
"Yeah,
you definitely need my help."
~~~
"Can
you do me a little favor?" I asked Trent the next day at work.
He
stared at me as if he didn't know how to respond. We weren't exactly the kind
of workmates that did favors for one another. I mean we rarely spoke on a
regular basis. But I could tell I was more of his friend than anyone else in the
building. We had been stuck in an elevator together for more than an hour and
we didn't kill each other. I don't think he would have been able to accomplish
that with anyone else.
"I
need you to look at some work I did last night and give me your opinion,"
I said when he didn't respond.
It
was a good thirty minutes before anyone else would even arrive so it wasn't
like he had pressing work to do.
"Okay,"
he said simply.
I
scooted over to his desk and typed in the address for the website I had created
for
Jaames
' band. Trent was the website expert. He
was behind all the gorgeous websites most of our clients had. I had no idea how
he had time to maintain all of them, but he did. I knew it would be too
expensive for
Jaames
to hire Trent's services so I
decided to give it a try myself.
After
navigating around the website for a few moments, Trent cleared his throat and
said, "It's nice."
"I
know it's nothing compared to what you can do, but I tried."
He
cleared his throat again like it was difficult to pay me a compliment.
"No, it's really good. I can't believe you did this in one night."
"To
be fair, I used a template, but I did have to do some hard coding. I could use
some tips to make it better if you have any."
"Is
that him?" Trent asked pointing to one of the members of the band.
"Who?"
"James with two ‘A’s."
"No,
him," I said pointing to someone else."
"
Hmph
."
"What?"
"Nothing,"
he said shaking away a thought. "You're going to want to create a page with
a media packet. Include some high resolution shots of the band, some sound
clips, maybe some taped interviews if they have any."
"Oh good idea.
I don't know why I didn't think
of that." I took a notepad off my desk and wrote down his suggestions.
"So,
are they our new clients?" he asked.
"No,
I'm just helping them out. They're really good. You should
come
listen. They're playing tonight. You could bring a date."
Trent
bit his bottom lip then put a dollar in his jar before storming away.
What
did I say?