“Basically,” Felecia says, shrugging her shoulders.

“Wrong answer. Tell that nappy-headed bitch I don’t need her business.”

She laughs, snapping her fingers. “Well allriiiight.” Click-clack, click-clack. “I knew you were gonna say that.” The phone rings; she answers on the first ring. “Nappy No More. How can I help you?” She pauses, mouths, “It’s Jasper.” I tell her to transfer the call to my office, walking off.

Janelle sees me as I head toward my office and throws her free hand up and waves. I wave back, glancing at the clock. It’s only eleven, so she still has time before she gets in my chair. I say hello to a few of the customers sitting underneath dryers.

I toss the mail up on my desk, then unlock my bottom desk drawer and place my bag inside before locking it back. As soon as my private line rings, I pick up. “Hey.”

“Aye, yo, where you been? I’ve been calling you all mornin’.”

“What do you mean, where I’ve been? I’ve been home. Why didn’t you call there?”

“I did and the shit kept going into voice mail. I called last night up ’til count, then called you this morning and the same shit. Where the fuck was you at?”

“Nigga, I just told you I was home.”

“Then why you ain’t pick up the damn phone, yo?” Shit, I think, shaking my head. I forgot to turn the ringers back on. He’s already tight—about what I have no idea, so I already know if I tell him that shit, he’s going to snap.

I decide to tell him a half-truth. “I didn’t hear the phone. When I got home last night, I was exhausted. The only thing I wanted to do was crawl into bed and pass out.”

“Yeah, aiight. And I called you this mornin’, too, yo. So where were you?”

“I already told you.”

“I’m tellin’ you, Pasha. Don’t be on no bullshit, yo.”

“I’m not on anything. But I would like to be up on that pretty-ass dick,” I say, lowering my voice and trying to change the subject. “I’m so fucking horny.”