Beyond the Hurt (2 page)

I felt the truck coming to a stop. I had barely closed my eyes for what seemed like a minute, but I was certain we had not made it to Riverside. It made no sense to me why we were stopping and we literally just got on the road. My dad mentioned receiving a call from a client who had some sort of accident in one of their vehicles and had to run by the courthouse to pick up some paperwork. How the accident and the courthouse connected was beyond me, but I learned a long time ago not to question his movements. My mother was just as sensible. She rested on every word he said and took it as fact, unless it was about her beloved Samson.

We pulled up to the Alameda County Courthouse and my dad hopped out, actually he more like slowly hobbled out of the car and told us to sit tight while he went in to take care of business.

“Daddy please don’t have us waiting too long,” I whined as he motioned to shut the door. “I’m ready to get to Riverside. We don’t have time for this.”

“Girl, there would be no U.C. Riverside if it wasn’t for yo’ daddy, so sit back, shut up and let yo’ daddy handle his business.”

Of course, Charlene had to interject with her “my man is the almighty
Mandingo
rant!” My mama had her ways and all of them ended on my nerves. I knew we had a six-hour drive ahead of us so I decided to concede and allow her to win this one. I put my seat back and slapped on my headphones to drown out her nagging voice, as I mellowed out to my favorite album
The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill
.

Chapter 2

The salon was fairly empty for a Friday afternoon. Although most of the clients were required to schedule an appointment, the weekend initiated an influx of women determined to rectify their hair disasters in time for the weekend sun and activities that they hoped would elevate their social and relationship statuses.

“Tanya, how many more appointments do I have for today?” Raquel moved about the salon sweeping and wiping down her station. It was still early for her pre-weekend appointments; she had been up working since six in the morning. Friday was the day that most women wanted to get into the shop to be alluring for the weekend festivities or impromptu trips to Las Vegas, Los Angeles or Lake Tahoe.

“You have Jenise at 2pm coming in for a relaxer and wrap and Miss Juanita at 4pm for her roller set.” Tanya replied with conviction, not once taking a glance at the appointment book, while she filed her low-cut almond shaped nails at the receptionist desk located at the entrance of the shop. Tanya was in the process of completing her cosmetology hours in hopes of one day becoming the owner of her own salon. She had been apprenticing under Raquel at her salon for the past month. The little diva was on it. Tanya knew that working for Raquel was the best thing she could ever do, an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. All the little girls in the city who finished beauty school wanted to work under her. She knew she had to bring her A-Game every day. It was mandatory for all of Raquel’s girls to go through a rigorous initiation. Teaching them the process of proving themselves through hard work and dedication, she ran all the errands from Sally Beauty Supply and Keisha’s Hair Care Warehouse, to the quick fixes, like CVS. It was essential for her to schedule all appointments, wash and prep clients for the entire stylist team. Raquel and all her stylist never failed to whip all their clients up and send them on their way looking drop dead gorgeous!

“Good! I can rest my feet for a while until Jenise comes in. My dawgs are barking!” Raquel yanked off her LifeStride Klarissa pump, gently massaging her foot moving between the ball and heel. The high and low lights, accent walls and wall decor gave her salon the much needed calming essence many of her clients appreciated when sharing their inner most secrets and gossip during each hair session. The shop was located in the quiet middle-class neighborhood of Piedmont. Raquel wanted her clients to travel outside of their comfort zones in more ways than one. She selected this particular location because it spoke of affluence and accessibility. It wasn’t Oakland, but it lay just adjacent to her home city right on the border; so no one could dare to call her a sellout.

Raquel slumped down in the cozy black salon chair. This was her place of solace. Everybody knew that when she was in her state or relaxation, to leave her alone. They especially knew that when she was in the V.I.P.
“Vixens in Preparation”
chair, it was game over. This particular chair was only for her top-notch clients who didn’t mind paying a few hundred dollars extra. As her girls would say, everything she did was high-class-bougie. She offered manicures, pedicures, waxing and facials. She even had a to-go or dine-in food service with any type of food offering desired. Her goal was to have all clients to feel pampered and satisfied on every level when leaving the salon. Sometimes, a woman only has the time and energy to make one stop in her day and that stop had to be “RQ Hair Care Salon.”

As soon as she began to remove her second shoe to give her other toes the air and rest they so desperately desired, her cell phone jam came on playing DMX’s
“Party Up” (Up in Here)
. She always let the song play a little bit before answering to a tinge of the lyrics, “
y’all gon’ make me lose my mind, up in here, up in here
.” It always calmed her spirits hearing DMX’s raspy voice, before hearing whatever her son had to share for the day’s drama.

Raquel braced herself and reluctantly answered the phone. “What’s up, Pook?”

“Mama, I know you at work,” he started “and at this point…sitting down resting yo’ feet, but I need you to come down to the courthouse,” he explained with desperation. Raquel straightened up in her seat, knowing that her moment of relaxation was on hold for a moment.

“Pook, you know I told you about working that club and hanging around those thuggins,” she retorted. She placed the phone on speaker to avoid getting a cramp in her arm with the onset of stress. Gradually she pulled her body up out of the chair and proceeded to her office for privacy.

“Mama, I don’t need this right now! You know this is a part of my job.” Charles spat back with frustration. “I’m down at the Alameda County Superior Court and I go before the judge at 2pm.”

“Charles Simmons, I have a head at 2pm and Jenise is one of my best clients” she paused as she felt her blood pressure rising. “Look baby, you are a grown ass man. You don’t need me down there.” She was beginning to think that he was not as grown as his age claimed him to be.

Charles was becoming more agitated as he always did when things didn’t go his way. “If I didn’t need you,” he tried to select his words carefully, “I wouldn’t have called you. It will look better for me if you are here. You can be a character witness if they request it…Mama, you hear me?” She just let him ramble. “Mama?” There was nothing on her line, but heavy breathing. The disregard on the part of his mother caused him to slip up. “You give them damn clients of yours more attention than you do me! We all we got!”

She took a deep breath before going in on him. “Boy let me remind you that I am your mama and I will whoop your ass and have them lock you up for real if you ever speak crazy to me like that! Now I will see what I can do, but I
ain’t
making any promises.” She hung up the phone and pressed her head against the chair, contemplating whether she should jump at the request of her disadvantaged son as she often did when he found himself in a predicament.

Raquel knew it was her fault. She raised him to depend on her. Since his daddy wasn't around, she pounded into his conscience that it was just the two of them— that’s it. He was a self-sufficient man in his own right, but he had trouble making any big moves without her approval, without her by his side to provide endorsement. He was her baby boy, her only boy.

Raquel pulled up to the courthouse in her 2008 Black Lexus ES 350 promptly at 1:45pm; luckily, she was able to shuffle a few clients around to reschedule Jenise and Miss Juanita. They were some of her best clients; they tipped well and rarely complained. She was very particular about being professional in business, so when Raquel had to make any adjustments in scheduling, her clients knew it had to be something important.

Raquel made it a point to be ready for all occasions. She was due to pick up her dry-cleaning from Larry’s; she dashed over and picked up her grey two-piece hug-every-curve-of-her-body business suit. She then touched up her hair and make-up to stay at her best and to be supportive for her son. It wouldn’t hurt to turn a few heads in the process was her philosophy. She found a close parking spot near the front entrance and strutted into the courtroom taking the first open seat available.

“Your Honor, I am requesting this case be thrown out. There is not sufficient evidence on my client to prove that he was involved in the alleged altercation.”

The lawyer that Raquel was paying to protect her son was not going to accept no for an answer. However, the way it was looking, her son may have to serve a little time in jail.
He is going to jail.
She thought to herself. His ripping and running the streets would finally catch back up to him.

Charles Simmons was no different from all the rest of the young adult men his age; the only problem with him is that, he was the only one to ever get caught. Back in the days of her kicking Charles and his knuckle-head-friends out of her house, he managed to always come home with the police, parking tickets, suspensions, truancy tickets, vandalism fines, nothing too serious. Fortunately, Raquel dated a few officers on the force, who liked to do her favors and let him off on warnings to feel the warmth of her body late at night. Any jail time he experienced was temporary, a weekend here or there with all charges dropped, but what he was facing now, would be the most serious offense yet, if convicted.

“I’m sorry Mr. Fleming, but the prosecution has footage of your client involved in a club brawl that he initiated,” the judge proclaimed. Judge Frederick Price was a veteran in the courtroom and known for locking young Black men up and throwing away the key. Charles just sat, stone-faced, unsure of what the balance would hold for him. He glanced back to see if his mother had arrived. There were all types of people gathered in the courtroom, many of which were patiently awaiting their own trials. Some were just in the vicinity and decided to sit in. He scanned the room, spotted his mother in the back, and gave her a nod to acknowledge her presence. He knew she would come through. She always did. In the end, she didn’t have a choice. He was there for her; she was there for him.

“Be it as it may, Your Honor, the footage is not clear and does not prove that my client, Charles Simmons, was involved as the initiator, or connected with any altercation.” Mr. Michael Fleming was a few years out of law school and still a rookie in the courtroom, but he was going to have to do. Although, Ms. Simmons took in a great amount of money running
RQ Hair Care Salon
, it wasn't quite enough to cover all her personal expenses and the representation of the top-notch lawyers in the Bay Area, so Mr. Rookie Fleming was going to have to do. Plus if Charles went to jail for a while, it would take some much needed stress off of her. Worrying about if she was going to receive that phone call or see his face on the news as another young black male murdered in Oakland, is not a mother’s dream, yet a legitimate fear. He had plenty of friends, but more enemies, who at any moment would love to see him killed.

Charles is what you call a Ladies Man.
“Ladies Love Cool C,”
that’s what he always used to tell his mother when she warned him about all the girls he was entertaining. Charles loved having a few girls in his face at a time and they seemed to not mind at all that their time was divided. I guess because he kept them laced with the finest things. He frequently treated his ladies to spa days, bought them expensive jewelry and made sure that their hair was always on point. After all, his mama was the
baddest
hairdresser in town and he had them all in her shop!

Charles was no young buck though. The case in question was a result of his surprise 30
th
birthday party celebration at Sweets Ballroom, in downtown Oakland, where he was the bouncer and club promoter. When he wasn’t doing private security for local artist who came in town, he was keeping the city live with concerts and entertainment. He invited everyone in “The Town” to come and help him celebrate this commemorative event. He made sure that he was noticeable in his all black on black tailored
Giorgio Armani
suit and satin tie, fresh cut and all black Portello
Stacy Adams
. Raquel was not ashamed to admit to all her girlfriends, that her son was attractive. Blessed with smooth cocoa skin and pearly white teeth. His dimple on his left cheek when he smiled made him all the more irresistible to the ladies. She had to remind some of her friends that he was off limits; many of them alluded to having him help them get their groove back. Although he was a well-known
playa
, it didn’t stop the ladies from lining up to play on his team. And she couldn’t be mad at him. He got it from his mama.

Everyone was having a blast at Sweets drinking and dancing, when all of a sudden Calvin Rogers, big-time dope dealer turned business mogul, rolled in the club starting trouble. One thing Charles never did was sell dope. He tried selling weed in middle school and again in high school, but it took too much time away from the ladies, he never could too much tolerate the smell either; if he didn’t smell like Drakkar Noir by
Guy Laroche
, he wasn’t having it. Calvin Rogers was not a fan of Charles. He felt a man of her son’s caliber should be a part of his hustle, his team. Ultimately, he wanted her little baby to be his bodyguard as a part of the “Neighborhood Kings” to run all of the daily security operations and make some real money, not the
Kibbles ’n Bits
he was earning from his various side jobs.

Calvin, informed that everybody in town would be at this particular party, made his presence known; he didn’t have to worry about being on a guest list because he owned the majority of the nightclubs and restaurants in the city, his entrance into the event was guaranteed. He bought Charles the most expensive bottle of liquor that Sweets offered with a note attached: