Carl Weber Presents Full Figured 6: Plus Size Divas Read online

  “Perfect,” I said, exhaling as delicious aromas assaulted, tickled, and teased my nose from the nearby kitchen. I relaxed for the first time that day and admired my surroundings as I looked around. I simply loved the ambience of the restaurant; it was chock-full of vibrant color. There was original artwork displayed in every nook and cranny, along with handmade furniture. One-of-a-kind pottery vases and plants adorned high-perched shelves and there were hand painted details on the walls with countless suns, birds, frogs, and turtles everywhere the eye could behold.

  There was no need for Nobia and me to study the colorful menus because we knew exactly what we wanted, so we were ready to order when the pretty Mexican waitress with the clipped English came over with pen and paper in hand. We placed our burrito orders and reclined, ready to enjoy each other’s company and a good meal together.

  “Are you pleased with the outcome of the remodeling project at the salon, Erika?” Nobia asked, dipping crunchy, hot tortilla chips into spicy-salsa-filled colorful ceramic bowls that had immediately been brought to our table.

  “I can honestly say I am. I think the salon now has a chic, modern, sophisticated feel and that’s exactly what I wanted. And you know my favorite colors are black and pink and the interior designer incorporated them perfectly.”

  “You don’t say,” she kidded. “Your favorite colors are black and pink?”

  “Nobia, you are silly, but seriously I’m very pleased with how everything turned out. What do you think? Do you like it?”

  “I think the salon looks great and I’m proud to work there. I must say, it was good to come back last week after the shop was closed for two weeks. I missed you guys.”

  “Oh, that is so sweet of you. You do wonderful work keeping me organized and sane. Hiring you was one of the best decisions I made.”

  “Thank you, girl. Did you notice the ‘for lease’ sign is gone from the window of the empty space next to us?”

  “I’m glad you mentioned that because I noticed it was gone too, but I haven’t seen anyone over there,” I said, taking a sip of my diet Coke, which the waitress had placed in front of me. “I wonder what type of business is going to open. Hopefully, it won’t be competition.”

  “I guess we will find out soon enough. Won’t we? With the salon project out of the way, we need to focus on getting you a man.”

  I held up my hand. “Don’t go there. I am just fine with me, myself, and I. I adore my own company. There’s never a boring day in my world.”

  “Erika, I’m your best friend and I know it has been difficult getting over the death of Edward. Hell, you pretty much took to your bed the first year after he passed and shut down. I was so worried about you.”

  I nodded and sighed. “It has been difficult. Edward was the love of my live and, sometimes, I still can’t believe he’s gone. I still expect to hear his contagious laughter or hear him call me baby.”

  “You know I loved me some Edward, but it has been three years, girl.”

  “Three years next Tuesday,” I whispered.

  “Wow.”

  “Yep.”

  “Erika, he would want you to move on and live your life to the fullest. You deserve that. You are vibrant, full of life, beautiful, and you do so much for others. You are only forty years old and you need someone to share the rest of your life with.”

  “I’m doing just fine,” I said. “I manage just fine without a man. Thank you very much.”

  “You are a hopeless romantic and have always been one from what I can tell. Regardless of what you say, I know you haven’t given up on love. I know you, Erika. Stop kidding yourself.”

  “Now you are telling me what I need and what I feel?” I asked, staring her down, with a hint of annoyance in my tone.

  “I just want you to be happy.”

  “I am. Again, I’m just fine. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl.”

  Minutes later, our food was delivered to our table and we wasted no time digging in. Both Nobia and I didn’t play when it came to our meals. Silence followed for the first time since we had sat down.

  “Hmmm, this hits the spot; this is so good,” I managed to say between bites. “I’ve been craving burritos since last week.”

  Nobia nodded in agreement.

  “Girl, looks like you got you one,” she said, grinning and looking directly over my shoulder.

  “What?” I asked, turning in my seat to see what had captured her attention.

  I spun around to see a fine, dark-skinned brother seated at the counter, but staring in our direction with no shame. He had a handsomely rugged, swagged-out look that used to appeal to me when I was younger. My first husband, Malik, fit the description.

  I turned back around, uninterested, and continued eating.

  “He’s cute,” Nobia gushed.

  “He’s okay.”

  “After we leave here I need to take you over to Lens-Crafters and have your eyes examined. I think you need glasses, Erika. No, I know you need glasses.”

  “Nobia, for the last time, I’m not looking for a man and definitely not a boy,” I exclaimed.

  “He does look kind of young, doesn’t he?”

  “You think?” I kidded, turning to take another look at him. He smiled. “Looks like he was recently weaned from his mama’s tits. I think I see a milk moustache.”

  We laughed, enjoying the remainder of our lunch and knowing we had to return to the shop soon. Fridays were always busy. I rarely came in on Saturdays and we were closed on Sundays and Mondays, as most salons were.

  “Uh huh, looks like he’s coming this way with his sexy ass. Check out those arms and that six-pack beneath that black tee, girl,” Nobia whispered under her breath.

  I glanced back nonchalantly when I heard him clear his throat a couple of times.

  “Yes?” I asked, in my most professional tone. “May we help you?”

  “How are you lovely ladies today?”

  “Fine now,” Nobia volunteered, outright flirting. I didn’t comment one way or the other. I took another sip of my diet soda.

  “Before I left, I had to come over and introduce myself when I saw two beautiful sisters enjoying lunch and each other’s company. I’m Jacob.”

  “Thank you,” Nobia said, clearly taken in by his apparent charm and good looks. “I’m Nobia and this is my girlfriend—”

  I interrupted before she could offer up my name. “Well, thanks for stopping by Jacob. Don’t let us keep you,” I said, without a smile to be seen. I noticed he had a tattoo with symbols on his right arm.

  He extended his hand for a handshake and I left it hanging. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “I didn’t throw it.”

  Jacob paused, looked at me, and then chuckled. I was sure he wasn’t used to this type of treatment from women, especially a big-boned girl.

  “I like your spirit, but I do know you, well know of you. You own that salon . . . What is it called?”

  “Last Chance,” Nobia said.

  I threw her a look that said, “shut up.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Catchy name by the way,” he said, smiling at me again and revealing one dimple in his left cheek. “Ladies, enjoy the remainder of your day. “Hopefully, I see you around soon,” he said and winked.

  “You too,” Nobia said.

  “Don’t count on it,” I said under my breath.

  As he was walking away, Nobia was all over me. “Erika, you didn’t have to be so mean, girl. He was just talking. No harm in that.”

  “I’m not a cougar interested in chasing some young cub. I have enough whispering going on behind my back as it is.”

  “Well, he was sexy and seemed to be feeling you.”

  “Sorry, not interested. Next subject.”

  Preachers, Perms, and Pulpits

  Chapter 4

  “Sister Erika, thank you for taking a moment away from your hectic schedule to see me,” Reverend Hill gushed in his typical breathless, rushed manner. He ha
d taken a seat in the chair in front of my desk, making himself comfortable.

  “Reverend, now you know I’m always here for you and the church,” I said sweetly.

  “By the way, you’re looking mighty fine today, as always,” he slyly stated, looking for a reaction as he licked his juicy lips.

  Now, I will be the first to admit the reverend wasn’t hard on the eyes, but I didn’t do married men. “Thank you, and make sure you tell Mrs. Hill, our fabulous first lady, that I said hello and she needs to come by the salon and get her hair permed and styled. We will hook her up.”

  He stuttered, “Uh, sure, I’ll make sure I do that.”

  “Yes, please do.”

  I silently laughed. The reverend, in his mid-forties, was looking sharp in his stylish, very expensive blue suit with a gray pinstriped shirt, tie, and classic lace-up shoes. To me, there wasn’t anything sexier than a man in a suit and tie, all dressed up and smelling good.

  I had heard rumors over the years about extramarital affairs on the reverend’s part, but I didn’t get involved with nasty rumors because I knew how they worked. Once you told a lie or repeated it long enough, it became the truth to some people. Apparently, my three previous marriages didn’t sit well with some. Especially since my marriages all ended in death for my husbands.

  “What can I do for you today?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. “I know you didn’t come all the way over here for me to cut your hair,” I teased, tapping my Montblanc pen against my desktop.

  It was Friday, the second one we had spent in the shop since it had been renovated, and I was once again in my office, behind closed doors. Mostly I managed the business aspect of my salon on a day-to-day basis. I only had a handful of clients whose hair I styled on a regular basis and they weren’t due for another hour. I enjoyed being a stylist, but I found I preferred the business and marketing side of the industry. That was a challenge and I was always up for one.

  “We have a new member, Sister Judith, who joined the congregation last Sunday and she’s down on her luck.”

  “These are trying times for everyone,” I volunteered. “We can only hope they get better and soon. That’s why it’s so important that we get out there and vote. President Obama needs us to make it happen again.”

  “Amen, sister.”

  “Amen.”

  “A few months ago, this sister moved here from Tennessee following behind a man. It didn’t take long to discover the man was married when one plus one didn’t add up. Classic tale.”

  I shook my head in disgust and sucked my teeth.

  “She has uprooted herself and her young daughter, has no immediate family in the area, and has no source of income at the present time.”

  “I don’t know when these women, young and old, are going to learn. I hear stories like this all the time at the salon from clients gossiping about themselves, family members, friends, and coworkers. It’s sad. It’s stupid. However, I’d be happy to make a donation to a fund. Hopefully, she has learned a life lesson from this experience. We all make mistakes and that’s why Jesus Christ shed his blood on the cross. We’re imperfect beings.”

  “Amen, sister, but that’s not necessary. The church has put Sister Judith up for a month in a local hotel and given her money for expenses. You see, she’s trying her hardest to gain employment, and she has an interview scheduled for Monday, but she wants to look her best. I was wondering if you could style her hair, free of charge of course?”

  I laughed. “Is that all? I thought you were going to ask me something outrageous. Of course I can shampoo and style her hair. I’ll have her looking like a million dollars.”

  “Bless you, sister. Bless you.”

  “Tell her to get here before I close and I’ll fit her in.”

  “Sister Judith will be elated and you’ll be blessed for your unselfish act.”

  “I need as many blessings as I can get. In fact, you have given me a wonderful idea, Reverend.”

  “God works in mysterious ways.”

  “I think I’m going to start setting aside a few hours on a certain day to wash and style homeless women’s hair. Maybe I’ll make arrangements with one or two of the local shelters to send over women, or maybe I’ll go there. I’ll work out the details later.”

  “Whew! They don’t make them like you anymore, sister. Some man is going to be lucky to have you as a wife. Beautiful, smart, and you know your way around the kitchen based on dishes you’ve brought to the church,” he gushed. “Can’t beat that.”

  I produced a weak smile, but didn’t offer a comment. For a quick second, surprisingly, images of Jacob from the restaurant popped into my mind. He did have the cutest dimple and those biceps were huge and bulging. I imagined he could throw down in the bedroom and I vividly pictured his head buried snugly between my open thighs. I shook my head to release my naughty thoughts.

  I cleared my throat and coughed. “Before I forget, I have the salon’s monthly box of donated food in the supply closet ready for pickup. My clients truly stepped up to the plate this month because the large box I always keep near the front door was overflowing with canned food and staples.”

  “I don’t know what we would do without you at the church and in the community. You truly make a difference.”

  I nodded in appreciation. “I do what I can. To whom much is given, much is expected. However, Reverend, I would like to ask for your guidance and prayer regarding a personal manner.”

  “What is it? Is something worrying you?” he asked, suddenly sitting up with a serious scowl on his clean-shaven face.

  I didn’t hesitate. I blurted it out in one gush. “I can’t seem to get past Edward’s death and it has been almost three years. I think about him all the time, day and night. I’m beginning to think something is wrong with me.”

  “Everyone grieves differently, sister. Everyone goes through the various grieving stages at their own pace. It was tragic how Edward suddenly become ill and was gone shortly thereafter. It was unexpected. So sad,” he said, shaking his head. “But God called him home and you will get past this in your own way and time. In the meantime, know that God has your back.”

  Reaching for my hand, he said, “Let’s pray about it. Pray for strength and divine guidance during this trying time.”

  We did just that. Bowed our heads and prayed right there in my office, and after he left, I felt much better, more at peace.

  What Goes Bump in the Night

  Chapter 5

  “Good night, Carla. I’ll see you next week at my regular time.”

  “Okay, girl. You look gorgeous,” I said, locking the door behind her as she click-clacked in her designer shoes up the sidewalk to the parking area.

  Another Thursday night found me and Erika alone in the salon. She was in her office taking care of some paperwork and I had just walked my last client of the night to the front door. Of course, she was looking absolutely fabulous and was very pleased with her new hairstyle. Her ooohs and ahhhs and the fifty-dollar tip confirmed it.

  I rarely brag—well, yes, I do—but I knew with certainty that I was one of the best stylists in the city and I had trophies from competitions all across the country to prove it. Based on my volatile history with Erika, I realized that was the only reason I worked in her salon; I had been with her for over a year now. I will give it to her though, Erika was smart. She was a savvy businesswoman. I realized she put up with my mess because she knew she had a star stylist who brought in clients, many of them high-profile and local celebrities.

  I guess it was a tradeoff for me, too. I admit I reluctantly came to her asking for a job when a situation popped off at my old establishment and I had to leave, involuntarily. This time, my reputation preceded me—great stylist or not, no one at that time was interested in hiring Diva Carla. I was more trouble than I was worth with my diva-like ways. It took a lot out of me to put my tail between my legs, so to speak, and ask Erika for a job. So, here I was and we tolerated each other by keeping our dis
tance and with minimal conversation.

  After sweeping up piles of 100-percent human Brazilian hair weave and straightening up around my station, I was more than ready to call it a night. I was tired. Bone tired, as the old folks used to say. It had been a long day and the weekend was going to be even crazier. It always was and I relished it, adored the fast pace of the beauty industry. I could honestly say that my passion was making women beautiful. I lived for the times when a plain Jane shyly walked in, sat in my magical chair, and walked away with her head held high, totally glamorous. Total transformation. Magic happened.

  I grabbed my new Coach handbag, compliments of a recent sponsor, and strutted down the hallway to let Erika know I was leaving. Today she had been extra nice to me. I swear she was Miss Jekyll and Miss Hyde. Some days she could be sweet as honey, but most days she was a bitch.

  She had even gone out during lunchtime and brought back dessert for everyone, huge slices of red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting from the soul food joint a few blocks over from our salon. Even though I’m on a diet, I had to take a few bites, and before I knew it I had eaten the entire slice. It was absolutely delicious and I yearned for a second piece. I swear Erika was trying to make us all as big as she was. Nobia was quickly catching up and I dreamt of the day when I could sit her in my chair and give her a much-needed makeover. Nobia wouldn’t recognize style if it was sitting in her lap.

  I knocked lightly on the door, which now had a name plaque: ERIKA KANE, CEO. I shook my head and laughed. Some people thought they were way more important than they actually were. CEO. Ha.

  “Erika, I’m leaving now,” I called out.

  At first there was no response.

  I knocked again, harder. “Erika,” I called out, cracking her door an inch or two.

  She was on the phone and evidently having a great conversation based on the way she was cheesing. She looked up with a huge smile on her face and made eye contact.

  “I’m gone. I’ll lock you in on my way out. See you tomorrow.”