The three of them stood outside their barbershop on Campbellton Road, as drunk as pirates, mourning their friend who just died. The property manager would be coming by shortly to pick up the keys. Tomorrow they would each need to find work.

“Died like a man,” Gator said, as he told them. “On his feet. Came in here Monday. Like I normally do. And saw him drop dead.” He poured a bit of his drink on the ground, watering the sidewalk they stood on, and passed the red cup to Parker who gulped it.

They assembled into a funeral procession led by Gator, first in line, who belted out “Died like a man,” then slapped the top of the door, spilling a bit of his drink on his otherwise pristine black apron, and they entered the shop for the last time.

All their booths were packed up, except for the one in the front by the entrance. None of them dared touch it. A framed picture of Wayne, whose name had been on the lease, sat on the counter. The mirror was cluttered with messages written to him in black and blue marker.

“Say Gator? If he was standing up, how you know he was dead?” Akeem had heard the story, but even momentary silence got to him.

“Just knew.” Gator poured the last of the tiny bottle into the plastic cup. He tried to toss the bottle into the garbage, but it hit the edge instead. “And because nigga, I spoke to him and he ain’t speak back.”

“Yeah, even in the morning, Wayne was chipper than a motherfucker,” said Parker. “If he ain’t speak back, you know something got to be wrong.”

They all nodded in agreement.

“I was digging in the drawer looking for my blades, and saw him swaying.  Then he just went down. Like watching a skyscraper collapse.”

Wayne had been their friend, mentor, and teacher. Been cutting hair longer than they had been alive. This was the only shop any of them had ever worked in.

“He always said he wanted to die cutting hair,” said Akeem, who looked down at the floor by Wayne’s booth.

“Like he was outrunning death to his last.” said Gator. “And I tell you what else. His nine o’clock came in right after.”

“The one with all the blonde hair and shit?” asked Parker.

“That’s him. That’s the one.  Say Park, what time that whiteboy coming by? From downtown?”

“Should be here,” he looked at his gold watch, “ any minute now. I’m going to hand him the keys then.”

“You think he liked him?” said Gator.  He pulled a box out of the closet. “You know liked him liked him.” He took the box over to Wayne’s booth, but stopped abruptly, as if he’d reached the edge of a cliff.

“Liked who?” asked Parker.

“The nigga with the blonde hair. His client. You think Wayne liked him?”

He reached for Wayne’s clippers, then stopped. His hands trembled. Then he reached for Wayne’s combs, but his hand failed him again. So he just sat the box on the ground, and picked lint off his apron.

“Man not even cold in the ground yet,” said Parker. “And you speculating on his sexuality like that.”

Gator looked up.

“I ain’t got no problems with it. Just wish he could’ve talked to me. Where did you say those keys were? To give the man,”.

“I got the keys. What you worrying about it for?  Just like you worrying about Wayne’s sexuality. On God, you the most worrying somebody I ever seen.”

“I can worry about whatever the hell I want to worry about,” said Gator.

“You trying to be Wayne now? You trying to be in charge? Questioning me about some keys.”

Parker walked over to Gator, as if he were about to swing on him, but picked the box up off the ground instead.

“When that motherfucker come about the keys, I don’t want him thinking we not professional. Wayne always ran this shop professionally,” Gator said.  ”You know that.”

“What difference it make what he thinks? Come tomorrow, we won’t work here anymore anyway.”

“Who you talking to?” Gator moved closer. Both their bodies pushed up against the box between them.

“He kissed me once,” Akeem broke the silence. Gator and Parker jumped.

“Run that by me again little man?” Parker said, not taking his eyes off Gator.

“Kissed me on the lips,” said Akeem. He walked toward Wayne’s booth and sat in the chair.  “Here in the shop. It was Christmas Eve and we were both here late drinking. Me and my girl ain’t been getting along. And I don’t know, me drinking and the weight of it all, I just started bawling. And he was listening to me. Then he just reached over and kissed me on the lips.”

“And what you do?” asked Gator.

“I stopped crying.”

“So you gay now too?” Parker asked and put the box down.

Akeem just looked over at him like he didn’t understand his question, then swiveled around in the chair. He picked the box up off the floor and placed it in his lap. And with one hand holding the box steady, he picked up Wayne’s clippers and placed them in the box. Parker got Windex and paper towels from the closet, and wiped the mirror until they could each see their reflections staring back at them. Gator held the box while the three of them finished packing.  When the property manager finally came, he didn’t say “hello,” as much as he just held his hand out for the keys. Akeem grabbed them from Park’s desk and gave them to him. Then they left the shop, Akeem in front, for the final time.