Fixin’ Tyrone Read Online Free Page A

,” she whispered into the night .
    No, it’s not. Don’t do it.
    God gave me this brick.
    You’re too old for that.
    But it came loose for me.
    You’ll be sorry. And she probably would, but there was no way fate was going to give her a brick and expect her not to use it. Mia shut up the scaredy-cat voice in her head and walked to the front of Eric’s car. If you’re going to break out a window, it might as well be the most important one, right? She reared back like Nolan Ryan in his heyday, got as much momentum as her triceps could muster, and chucked that brick harder than anything she’d thrown in years.
    And damn if it didn’t bounce right off.
    That’s a sign.
    Yeah, whatever , Mia thought. She inched in for a closer inspection and saw there was a small chip at the point of impact. It would break. She just needed a more feasible instrument.
    The tire iron from her trunk worked just fine.
    * * *
     
    On the way home the local radio station had the nerve to play the same stupid Jagged Edge song Mia listened to when she and Eric were in the throes of passion.
    Walked right into heaven, my ass . She put in a CD more appropriate for her mood. Lil’ Kim knew exactly just how she felt.
    Wanna bumble with the bee, huh? BZZZT! Throw a hex on yo whole family!

CHAPTER 3
    THERAPY
     
    Nestled almost right in the middle of Lancaster Avenue, Overbrook Meadows’s longest thoroughfare, was Claire’s Beauty Palace; truly a diamond in the rough. Just two years after its grand opening, the salon was a certified financial triumph; owner Ernestine Pollard wouldn’t have it any other way. She brought decades of experience to the venture. Ernestine already owned two other successful beauty shops in the city and was in the process of acquiring a defunct home-style restaurant within the next month or so.
    At sixty-one, Ernestine was a notable role model and mentor to minority entrepreneurs all over the city. The last time she lost money on a deal, the schools were still segregated—and not all of her deals were good ones. Claire’s, for example, was located smack dab in arguably the worst neighborhood in Overbrook Meadows.
    Mia grew up nearby, so she was used to the vagrants, hooligans, and gangbangers in the area. She would never cruise Lancaster after dark, but Saturday mornings were a different story. If you needed your hair twisted, permed, braided or weaved so flawlessly you’ll start thinking you really do have Indian in your family, Claire’s was definitely the place to go.
    Ernestine devoted most of her time to this, her favorite salon, so you could meet the living legend herself behind the register on most days. Today she wore a purple blouse and black slacks with a wig she called the Halle Berry. Ernestine was the color of coffee with no cream. A large, confident woman, she exuded maternal instincts, and had already developed a close bond with all of her employees and most of her customers. A lot of the girls at the salon called her Mama , and Mia was no exception.
    And as with her other shops, Mama Ernestine employed a cast of lively characters at Claire’s. These divas could lay the most natural tracks you’ve ever seen and give better advice than your marriage counselor at the same time.
    Vasantha was a beautiful, twenty-two-year-old Latina. She was very talkative, with a body fine enough to get in a music video if that was her thing. She had pencil-thin eyebrows and bronze skin that made her look like Cleopatra.
    Gayle, at forty-three, was a bit older and a bit wiser, too. She was full-figured, as sweet as a box of Godiva’s and attractive without a lot of makeup. Gayle was also a hopeless romantic and aspiring poetess. Unless they’ve heard one of her slam pieces, most people didn’t realize what a strong woman she was.
    Vicki, also known as Delite, never met a man she couldn’t manipulate. Brown-skinned and stacked like Buffy the Body, Vicki drove a brand new Infinity M35, though her part-time job at