it up so close to Pick ’N Clip, Elizabeth’s business, hadn’t seemed like a wise thing to do, but the cost to lease the space had been right. The location worked for her.
As soon as she’d opened her doors, Elizabeth had come over, introduced herself and bought a bouquet of roses. Janelle never forgot how supportive Elizabeth had been, then and now. Elizabeth had become an unexpected mentor.
“You know I love seeing those men in their tights.” Janelle’s sassy friend grunted a sound of approval through her nose. “High and tight.” She lifted her hands and curved her fingers as though she could grab one of the guys’ backsides through the TV screen. “You could bite one.”
“No, you can do that.” Janelle had found all through school that guys hadn’t gravitated to girls who loved learning.
The jocks had thought calling her a brainiac and nerd had hurt her feelings. She didn’t care about them. They might get million-dollar contracts, but Janelle knew in a few years they would bust up their bodies or lose the rest of their mediocre brain cells. Janelle would have her business and be doing something she loved, tending to her plants.
“You don’t find these guys hot?” Penny twirled her newly dyed red hair around her finger.
Janelle’s pale friend licked her lips. At one point, Janelle thought she’d caught Penny sliding her fingertips down the screen as though stroking a potential lover. Janelle shook her head.
“Athletes are blessed with great hand-eye coordination and halfway decent bodies.” Janelle tapped her finger against her temple. “The brain. That’s the sexiest organ.”
“You are such a nerd.” Penny shook her head.
“Thank you.” Janelle bowed her head and smiled as though her friend had given her a compliment.
“Let high school go. You’re a hot business owner.” Penny stopped and scanned Janelle from head to toe. “Strike that. You’re a business owner.”
“Hey!” Janelle picked a rose stem from her bouquet and threw it at Penny. “Not nice.”
“Look at you. Yes, it’s February, but you’re in a million layers of clothes.”
Janelle turned and stared at her reflection in the front door glass. Her long cardigan sweater went almost down to her knees. The pockets on either side looked like they drooped down out of exhaustion. She loaded her pockets with shears, rubber bands, pens, and tags.
Under her cardigan, she wore a black turtleneck sweater and jeans. She had to be comfortable in what she did, although she always wondered how Queen Elizabeth could work in a full skirt suit, high heels, and a face full of flawless makeup.
Janelle didn’t need a mirror to see she didn’t wear anything on her face. Applying tinted lip balm had been her only beautifying product. Her sneakers squeaked over the brown tiled floor.
She ran her hand over her naturally curly hair that she had styled back from her face with a hair clip on top of her head. Shortly after starting college, Janelle had stopped putting chemical relaxers in her hair to allow the natural texture to come through finally. Back then, she’d done it because of low funds. Now other African-American women adopted the look to be trendy.
“What I wear is appropriate for where we work. No one is looking at me to be some fashionista.” She held her hands up like a game-show beauty. “People come here to see these flowers and plants. They’re the stars.” She exhaled as she gazed around her business. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
Penny leaned forward to turn off the small flat-screen TV that sat behind the counter when she stopped. Local news broke to talk about a shooting not far from Janelle’s business.
“Police are on the lookout for a suspect who broke in and shot an employee at Press ’N Curl, a hair salon in Virginia Beach.” The news anchor spoke slowly, making sure to emphasize certain words in a dramatic fashion. “The victim is none other than MMA champion Gunnar Wells.”
“Holy shit.” Penny covered her mouth.
Penny could best be described as dramatic. Their differences in their races didn’t matter. Back then, their tastes in boys matched. Now Penny kept up her admiration for the jocks, but Janelle had decided to expand her horizons and go for a well-rounded man with goals and ambition.
“Isn’t that horrible?” Penny shook her head. “What’s the world coming to?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose.” Janelle went behind the counter to retrieve her coat and purse. “It’s a shame though. Press ’N Curl is one of Queen Elizabeth’s businesses. She owns, like, three or four of them.”
“Okay, so what in the world is a champion MMA fighter”—Penny glanced at the screen again—“a fine one at that, doing in Queen’s business? Don’t tell me he’s there getting his hair done.”
Janelle laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a hoot? He would never live that down.” She wiped under her eyes. When the idea that a man had been shot registered to her again, she sobered to the situation. “Seriously, I hope he’s okay.”
“Any tips on this crime, please contact Virginia Beach police. Now we’ll return you to the Super Bowl, already in progress.”
The screen switched back over to the game, or rather, the end of the game. The Virginia Beach Wolves celebrated. Colorful streamers filled the screen, and screams filled the inside of Janelle’s store.
Janelle didn’t care to look at the screen until she heard a woman attempting to interview the team’s quarterback.
“Gideon! Gideon! Congratulations on the win. I understand the president is on the phone for you.” The savvy African-American journalist managed to get her microphone up to Gideon’s face.
Janelle finally glanced at the screen. She froze. The football player, covered in sweat with his blond hair stuck to his face, kept her hypnotized to the screen with his incredible blue eyes. No one’s look had rendered her immobile since her days in high school.
Janelle stared at him some more, then scanned the banner across the bottom of the screen that displayed his name.
Janelle swallowed hard. She couldn’t help but drop her gaze down his body to his crotch. Penny would have called Janelle a hypocrite if she knew Janelle checked out this man.
“I can’t. I got to go home and see my mother.” The player darted off screen and attempted to make his way through the sea of people.
“That was nice, right?” Janelle put on her coat and pulled her purse strap on her shoulder.
Nice? Yes. Janelle felt a strange tickling sensation going through her body. Since Gideon Wells played for the Virginia Beach Wolves, did that mean he lived in town? Would he be coming home to Virginia Beach?
She shook her head. What was she thinking? He could come back home and she would never see him in person. No way would this multimillion-dollar athlete have some little house in the same neighborhood she lived. No, he probably lived at the Oceanfront area with one of those big, fancy houses people like her only dreamed about having.
“Dude has the opportunity to talk to the president of the United States, and he
