Ever since I was a teenager, Barry cut my hair. He was a man with cornrows and a grey goatee. Through the years, the places he cut my hair changed. But now, he set up shop at his mom\u2019s garage. So, on a Sunday afternoon, I pulled up to his mother\u2019s house for my haircut. Malcolm stood in the driveway, firing up a Black & Mild cigar. Smoke slid down his grey beard and onto his white t-shirt. Beside him stood Quinton. He was a heavy-set man sporting a black hat, glasses, grey hoodie, and black jeans. They smirked at me hesitating to park in the driveway.<\/p>\n
After shutting off my car, I grabbed my book, Tiny Nightmares<\/em>. Coincidentally, I didn\u2019t know Malcolm and Quinton were living a nightmare. Pretty soon, I would.<\/p>\n Whenever I came to get my haircut, I brought reading material because Barry got off task easily. Because of his inability to focus, he usually had many customers waiting. Though, he was a master at his craft. So, it balanced out, in the end.<\/p>\n Malcolm and Quinton said, \u201cWas up, man.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWas up,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n The faded, purple van reflected fragments of myself. Potted plants gathered near the garage. Blue, crystal balls stuck out of them. Unfolded tables stood against the bricked, beige house. Barry lifted the garage door and presented himself. He wore a stocking cap, a dark grey shirt and jeans.<\/p>\n \u201cWas up, Jerome.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWas up,\u201d I walked through the side door. \u201cThose two guys getting a cut?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNah.\u201d Barry placed a chair in front of me. \u201cMalcolm\u2019s sidepiece put a tracker on his car. I\u2019ll be right back.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAlright.\u201d<\/p>\n Later on, I was caught up to speed through eavesdropping and good, old Barry, who had the gift of gab. Here was what I pieced together.<\/p>\n Malcolm had a sidepiece. He fucked the shit out of her. He gave her anything she needed. Because he was so good to her, she got attached and clung to him. But he distanced himself, especially after changing jobs. For eight hours straight, he shoveled and spread asphalt. When she wanted sex, he couldn\u2019t provide it. He was exhausted from working. Eventually, he cut her off because she forgot her position. She responded by placing a tracker on his car.<\/p>\n For a while, Malcolm didn\u2019t know, until she showed up to a restaurant he was at with his wife and kids. She slid beside him and said, \u201cHey, babe.\u201d<\/p>\n Malcolm nudged her away from him, then his wife said, \u201cGo take care of it.\u201d<\/p>\n Malcolm tried to take care of his sidepiece in the parking lot, but she flattened one of his tires. She cursed at him. She followed him to the tire shop, where he almost knocked her head off. All these situations brought him here with his homeboy, Quinton. He had his own run-ins with the sidepiece while he was out with his wife.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, hey! I\u2019m going to eat at this restaurant with my friend,\u201d The sidepiece said.<\/p>\n But Quinton didn\u2019t believe it was a coincidence. So, he used an app on his phone and something under his car beeped. After removing the tracker off his car, he informed Malcolm, who, at certain intervals, recounted hearing pings while driving. It didn\u2019t completely set in for Malcolm, until he caught his sidepiece following him to Barry\u2019s mom\u2019s house.<\/p>\n Barry moved lawn chairs and glass tables off the grassy space near the driveway. He came back into the garage and retrieved two mini ramps. They were made of durable plastic. His phone rang. From what I heard, it was someone named Pastor. He said, \u201cI\u2019m at momma house. Come in an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n Barry laid the ramps out and curled his fingers towards an approaching silver vehicle. It resembled an Acura. I didn\u2019t know the year or model. Quinton walked up the driveway and said, \u201cThe tracker is in the back. Not the front.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou sure?\u201d Barry asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n After coming up as far as possible, Malcolm reversed onto the ramps. He stopped when Barry told him to.<\/p>\n Barry retrieved an undercar roller and said, \u201cI\u2019m coming in a minute, Jerome.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAlright,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n A boxy clock hung on a pegboard behind me. It dinged over the radio positioned somewhere near the closed garage door towards the right. A pile of bags filled with clothing cluttered the opened garage door, but they didn\u2019t reach the ceiling. So, they didn\u2019t restrict my vision too much. A bookshelf rested on a dingy drawer and a flat-screened television leaned against a dirty refrigerator. The subtle scent of gasoline creeped in and out.<\/p>\n Malcolm got out of his vehicle and stood out of my sight. Quinton did too for a while. And Barry hid under the car, after turning down the radio. But their voices rang like the clunky clock.<\/p>\n \u201cAye, Quinton\u2026. This like some Fatal Attraction<\/em> shit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAin\u2019t no like, Barry. It is Fatal Attraction<\/em>! Can you see the tracker?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNah. Use the app again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAlright.\u201d Beeps erupted from the vehicle. \u201cIt\u2019s under there somewhere.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou can\u2019t use the app, Malcolm?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNah, my phone too old.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHold up, let me get my flashlight.\u201d<\/p>\n Barry went into the house and came out wearing a head lamp. He slid back under the vehicle and continued his search.<\/p>\n \u201cDid she put the tracker in the trunk, Malcolm?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMan, hell nah. How she gonna get in my trunk?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt can happen easily. When you sleep, she drop it in there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI ain\u2019t never fall asleep around her, Barry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMight have dropped it in the gas tank with her crazy ass.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI fucked up. That\u2019s all it is.\u201d<\/p>\n Malcolm mentioned his sidepiece told him she was pregnant. But it couldn\u2019t be his, since he stopped messing with her months ago. Of course, she matched her length of pregnancy to when they last screwed. His wife didn\u2019t leave him. Maybe she rationalized it as he didn\u2019t love the sidepiece. Maybe she believed her spot was secured. I imagined the thought of starting over seemed daunting as well. Who wanted to be a single mother? And she didn\u2019t just have a kid with him. She had kids!<\/p>\n How did kids process the sidepiece sitting beside their father at the restaurant? Or how their mother just told him to take care of it? From what I heard, Barry made some progress.<\/p>\n \u201cThere go the tracker.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s a part of the bumper, Barry. It stop the water from leaking out.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere ain\u2019t no part on a bumper to stop water from flowing out.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, you\u2019re right. That\u2019s it!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe glued it up there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs it in a case?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, to keep it dry. Let me get a screwdriver.\u201d<\/p>\n Barry got a screwdriver and took the tracker off.<\/p>\n \u201cShe really glued the shit up there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s a freak, Malcolm,\u201d Barry said. \u201cShe tried to keep you by saying she was pregnant.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA baby don\u2019t keep no nigga.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe won\u2019t the dick. She won\u2019t the dick!\u201d<\/p>\n Quinton no longer stayed out of my sight. He stood in front of the car, scrolling through his phone. He shook his head and said, \u201cThis some psycho shit, man.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m gonna ride in Barry\u2019s van and sling the motherfucker. Matter of fact, I can put it on a bus at one of the bus terminals. By Popeye’s.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe bought four trackers for a hundred dollars. Because you can\u2019t just buy one from that brand. I researched that shit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll put it on somebody else\u2019s car in Norfolk.\u201d<\/p>\n For a few minutes, Malcolm and Quinton devised a plan. After all, the sidepiece was nearby, waiting for Malcolm to leave. What if she eased closer to the house? She could have done so while they located and removed her tracker. What if she considered me a friend of Malcolm and planted a tracker on my car? No, I was overreacting. I\u2019d probably remind her of her eighteen-year-old son. Malcolm mentioned him and his whereabouts. Maybe having her only child leave the nest pushed her over the edge. It couldn\u2019t have been money. According to Malcolm, she had her own. But I guessed more didn\u2019t hurt, right?<\/p>\n Then again, what if the sidepiece actually loved Malcolm? I\u2019d never been with a woman long enough to produce those feelings. No woman ever fought for me like she did for Malcolm. Therefore, I suspected he knew what to say and how to act to evoke such a strong emotion.<\/p>\n \u201cBarry, hold onto the tracker for me,\u201d Malcolm said. \u201cI\u2019ll come back and get it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAlright. You\u2019re good with your wife?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, man. She know what it is.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause you take care of everything at home.\u201d<\/p>\n Malcolm pulled out the driveway. Quinton followed with the van. I didn\u2019t know their plan, but they put it into motion. Barry put the ramps, roller, and screwdriver up. He took off the head lamp, as a burgundy car parked. He ambled into the garage, where I patiently waited for an hour and some change for my haircut. I was his first customer of the day.<\/p>\n \u201cThe sidepiece came to the restaurant.\u201d Barry unfolded two white chairs and placed them in front of the bookshelf. \u201cAnd sat with his wife and kids.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s crazy,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cThey done made two, three movies about this.\u201d<\/p>\n A boy in a blue hoodie rushed towards the garage. His locs were in a stiff ponytail. He tripped over the doorway. His phone clacked across the cement floor. I asked him if he was okay, but he didn\u2019t say anything. Barry picked up his phone and handed it to him. He turned and twisted in the chair, staring at the colorful screen.<\/p>\n Pastor walked into the garage. He was stocky. Tattoos covered his arms. His black hat hugged his head. His glasses seemed tinted. His white shirt gripped his beefy torso. He wore joggers and Brooklyn Nets flipflops. He sat beside his son and watched the Cowboys and Cardinals game on his phone. His knee rested inches from mine. Barry decreased the distance when he told me to get up. After moving the chair over the marble mat, he patted the chair for me to sit. He covered me with a striped cape.<\/p>\n \u201cAye, Pastor,\u201d Barry brushed my hair. \u201cMalcolm\u2019s sidepiece put a tracker on his car.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTssh.\u201d Pastor rolled his shoulders. \u201cThat\u2019s wild.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe couldn\u2019t give it up.\u201d He cleaned his clippers. \u201cShe was supposed to play her role until she found her a man.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI mean\u2026.\u201d He sucked on his vape pen and exhaled. \u201cShe got too attached.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLoneliness. It made her go crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, man.\u201d<\/p>\n Barry ran the clippers over my hair, running his mouth like always. He said something about the sidepiece not wanting to give up a good man. But how could Malcolm be a good man for taking care of a woman other than his wife? A good man\u2019s responsibility was to pay the bills, satisfy a woman sexually, and spend time with her, even if it meant cheating on his wife? I didn\u2019t bring up this point for a couple of reasons. One: I didn\u2019t want to further distract him from cutting my hair. Two: I didn\u2019t want to debate with him or Pastor. Three: It wasn\u2019t my business.<\/p>\n Although I disagreed with these men, they were older than me. And I wasn\u2019t exactly a ladies\u2019 man. Where I was born and raised, many women went for the guy who ran the streets. Barry used to be one of those guys. And I didn\u2019t doubt if Malcolm, Quinton, and Pastor made money illegally in their younger days. Did earning money, whether legally or illegally, play a significant role in being a good man? Sadly, my experiences pointed to yes.<\/p>\n And I fretted over presenting myself as a good man. Why else would I get a haircut every two weeks? If I looked homeless, I\u2019d be judged negatively. Most likely, by most women, I\u2019d be seen as someone who didn\u2019t keep up with himself. I\u2019d be deemed a bad man. And bad men rarely achieved companionship, unless they disguised themselves as good men. I enjoyed being a loner; however, I wouldn’t mind having someone by my side.<\/p>\n Compared to the real world, my definition of a good man seemed fantastical. To me, a good man didn\u2019t do good for a reward. He strived to do what he believed was right. And his financial status didn\u2019t determine his goodness. Empathy wasn\u2019t something bought in a store. He gained it through his hardships, through his victories.<\/p>\n \u201cMalcolm was taking away her cake and ice cream.\u201d Barry edged me up. \u201cHe should have known she was gonna fight for it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Pastor eyed the game. \u201cShe was.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s why I just hit and run.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid Malcolm take the tracker with him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s under the tire.\u201d Barry trimmed up my mustache, my goatee. \u201cHe\u2019s gonna come back and get it. You can\u2019t be a good man to every woman.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d Pastor thumbed the turf-filled screen. \u201cYou can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe monster comes back to its maker.\u201d<\/p>\n Barry rubbed alcohol over my head, my cheeks, my razor line. It subtly burned. He handed me a small, pentagonal mirror. I was sharper than the rakes hung up near the doorway. After dusting excess hair off my neck and face, he untied the cape and shook it out. I rose from the chair and stretched. While I pulled twenty dollars from my wallet, Barry placed a portable safe in the chair. The boy climbed up and sat on it. I paid Barry, shook his hand, and, as always, he said until next time.<\/p>\n Next time. I doubted it would involve a sidepiece determined to keep a good man who was married with children.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" “Malcolm was taking away her cake and ice cream,” Barry said, edging me up. \u201cHe should have known she was gonna fight for it.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":24405,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[760],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-23475","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-creative-nonfiction","writer-jerome-newsome"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23475","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=23475"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23475\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":24407,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23475\/revisions\/24407"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/24405"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=23475"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=23475"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=23475"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}