“Next, Michael Kors got this new bag out that is fire. It’s—”
“Why not get them a little more elaborate bags?”
“Because that’s what they like, and these still new hoes.”
“Oh, okay. Well, you know I do more than Michael Kors, right?”
“I know. You can do anything my heart desires,” he affirmed then continued with his order. “I want Robin jeans, whichever ones you can get for me.”
She nodded as Frank went on to describe about ten other clothing items that consisted of purses, shoes, hats, and belts. Regular ticket price, the items would have totaled over twenty thousand dollars, but when all was said and done, Frank walked over to his shop safe, opened it, and counted out twelve thousand dollars. He then walked over to Bianca with the money in hand. “You know my sizes by now,” he said as he molested her body with his eyes and then winked at Bianca while licking his lips.
“Ugh,” Bianca said, taking the money and stuffing it into her bag. “I know your sizes all right.” She looked Frank dead in the eyes. “I sized your ass up a long time ago.”
Frank chuckled. “You know you love me, Bee. I know I’m your best customer.”
Bianca tried to fight the smirk on her face, but she couldn’t hide it. It was true. When she didn’t count the dope boys, who blew money by the racks, Frank was her best honest-working customer. And he was consistent; she could count on him like clockwork. Some of her drug-dealing customers might end up locked up or dead, so she couldn’t always count on their money to be consistent.
Nevertheless, it didn’t hurt that Bianca secretly loved the attention and compliments he constantly gave her. She couldn’t lie; it did do a little something to her ego to be hit on by a boss of his status. In an unspoken manner, she knew he admired and respected her as a businesswoman, so that made her lighten up too.
Frank dipped his head, pointed at Bianca’s face, and grinned. “Mm-hmm, there’s that smile again,” he teased.
Bianca turned her head, blushing. “Will you stop fucking with me all the time?” Bianca said, playfully rolling her eyes up in her head. “Geesh.”
“Then admit it. I am your favorite customer, and you love coming over here getting my money.”
Finally Bianca admitted out loud, “You are my best customer, and of course I love coming to get my money. Duh, you know that.” Bianca then turned serious to try to justify it from a business point. “Which is why you the only motherfucker who I do sixty-forty with. These other cheap niggas don’t get enough shit in a single order. I mean, you already getting the merchandise for half off. Live a little. Splurge, goddamn it!” she said in regards to her other clients.
“And they don’t pay up front like Big Daddy do,” Frank reminded her.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah! If I give you the money now, what if you get caught and go to jail or something? Im’a be out of my money,” Bianca said, mocking some of the other people she’d dealt with.
Frank burst into roaring laughter, as if he had heard the craziest thing ever. “If they knew better, then they’d know that Bianca Williams don’t ever get caught boosting—and if she do, somehow that bitch know how to wiggle her ass up out of it.”
“They better know it,” Bianca said, raising her hand to high-five Frank.
“You should be like an act in Vegas or some shit.” Frank continued to stroke her ego. “You the great escape artist, ’cause, baby, you know how to maneuver your ass out of any situation.” Frank flashed a big smile, lusting after her still.
“You better let them bitches know,” Bianca agreed as she stood. “Let me get my butt on out of here. I have to go to work.” She winked at Frank this time.
Frank headed to the door, “Come on. I’ll walk you out.” He then added a joked in a conspiratorial manner. “Before I have you down on that couch, back here in this office.”
Frank led Bianca out of his office and into the main salon area. She gave him a friendly hug before she said, “I’ll call you when I have your order filled.”
As she was walking from the back of the shop, all eyes were on her.
“You know you killing those shoes, right?” Marvin, the nail tech, asked Bianca as she sashayed by his nail station. He pointed his nail file at the stylist that was doing hair at the station about five feet from him. “Cynthia was just saying she needs that whole outfit you have on to wear to her cousin’s baby shower tomorrow.”
“For real, I really do,” Cynthia said as she did a flat two-strand twist on the client who was sitting in her chair. “It’s a perfect outfit for something like that.”
Bianca stopped in her tracks and looked herself over. “That’s very doable. You can have it for a hundred twenty-five.”
Cynthia’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. She said, almost in a whisper, “That’s a real hookup for days. Less than fifty-fifty. I’ve seen how much the pants alone cost.”
“That is a hot outfit,” Marvin cosigned, because he knew that Bianca always gave him a little something-something in the form of a kickback whenever he helped her make a sale. So he hyped it up even more. “And you already know, Cynthia, you will outshine everybody at the shower. Girrrrrl,” he said, flapping his hands and lifting his eyebrows in a dramatic fashion. “You gon’ kill it.”
Pretty much everyone in the salon knew who Bianca was and how she got down. She could get them damn near anything they wanted from almost any store for half of what the ticket price was—and depending on her mood, maybe even lower.
“So, you want the outfit or not, diva?” Bianca asked.
Cynthia was a new stylist to the shop and was still
