Too Close for Comfort by La Jill Hunt

ain’t come in here to trip. I came in to see who was it that left their child unattended in the parking lot of my establishment, playing on a damn skateboard at that.”
    â€œCarver, didn’t I tell you to leave that skateboard in the car?”
    â€œYes, sir.” The little boy lowered his head.
    â€œLook at me when I’m talking to you,” the man demanded. “Go wait for me outside.”
    The little boy looked up at his father. “Yes, sir.” Then he turned and told Yaya, “Sorry.”
    Yaya looked at him. “It’s cool.”
    â€œI realize my son may have been in the wrong, but that ain’t give you the right to handle him the way you did.” The man’s gaze fell on her bleeding hands. “And the next time you put your hands on someone else’s child, you may wanna make sure your hands are clean—I like to keep my rug rat neat.”
    Yaya looked down at her scraped and bleeding hands.
    Before she could respond, the man had walked out the door.
    â€œDammmmmmmnnn,” Jarrod, the other barbers and the customers all said at the same time.
    Yaya rolled her eyes and stormed out. She walked back over to her car, where her bags were still laying on the ground. She bent over to snatch them up.
    â€œLet us help you with those.” The man and his son reached to pick up her bags.
    â€œNo. I got it.”
    Either he didn’t hear her or ignored her reply. Not only did they pick the bags off the ground, he reached and took the bag she was holding out of her hand.
    She walked into the salon, and they followed her.
    Lincoln was installing a light fixture over the mirror Taryn had hung. “What’s up, little man?”
    Yaya saw that he was talking to the little boy. “Hey, Uncle Linc,” he said, smiling.
    â€œWhere do you want these?” The man was still holding the bags.
    â€œOh, you can put them over here,” Monya answered. “Not in the middle of the floor like some people.”
    â€œYour hand is still bleeding.” The man placed the bags against the wall.
    â€œI’m fine.”
    â€œWhat happened?” Lincoln peeked at Yaya’s hand.
    Carver started telling them what happened, before Yaya could open her mouth.
    Yaya could see the adults suppressing smiles, and wondered why she was the only one who didn’t find it funny.
    Taryn shook her head. “Yaya, I know you did not do that.”
    â€œCarver, what did I tell you about running your mouth?”
    â€œNo, Daddy—Uncle Lincoln asked me what happened, and I was just telling him—I didn’t tell on her or anything.”
    â€œFitz, this is Taryn, that’s Monya, and the bleeding girl who yoked your son up is Qianna, also known as Yaya. Don’t worry . . . she ain’t as hard-core as she thinks she is. You know Q ?—that’s his sister. This is their salon, After Effex.” Lincoln went back to screwing the fixture. “Ladies, this is my brother, Fitzgerald, we call him Fitz.”
    â€œNice to meet you,” Fitz told them. “Well, I gotta get outta here. What you got going on later?”
    â€œI’ll be here late. Trying to get these ladies up and running by week after next,” Lincoln told him. “Taryn says she’s gonna hang out and help me out tonight.”
    â€œI’ll stay too,” Monya announced.
    Taryn looked over and gave her a dirty look.
    â€œFeel free to come by and help your bro out,” Lincoln told him.
    â€œYou already got enough free labor with these three.”
    â€œUh, make that two,” Monya corrected. “You know Yaya ain’t staying and doing jack.”
    Yaya gave Monya the dirty look this time, causing everyone to laugh. “Go to hell.”
    â€œI may come back through,” Fitz said as he walked out the door.
    Lincoln hopped off the ladder he was standing on. “Let me holler at you before you go, in case you don’t