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mid-nineties and I could barely keep up. Now I jus’ keep ya’ll niggas lookin’ sharp.” Malik brushed the hair from his clippers.
    Roman looked around the shop. There we re only two other patrons getting haircuts besides him.
    “I guess you get to shut down after me huh? You wanna get a drink or somethin’ after you finish me up?”
    Malik sighed. “Naw man, I wish I could. I got one more head after you. Tyce should be in any minute now. He’s jus’ like you, he don’t like to wait either if he can help it.”
    Roman cocked his head to the side. “Fuck that pretty ass nigga! He ain’t shit like me. I ain’t a bitch and that nigga’s a straight bitch!”
    The already quiet shop went even more silent as Roman’s venomous words echoed in everyone’s ears. Tyce was a regular in the shop and everybody knew who he was and what he was capable of. On top of that he was well liked.
    “You better not let him hear you say that.” Cleo , a new barber sitting in a corner warned.
    “Shut the fuck up Cleo! He might have ya ’ll niggas in here spooked, but I don’t give a fuck! I’ll tell his ass as soon as he steps in this muthafucka that he ain’t shit! Matter fact, take your time Malik, I wanna be here when that nigga walks in.”
    Malik pointed to Roman ’s reflection in the mirror making sure to look him in his dark eyes.
    “Respect my shop. I sweep up hair, I don’t mop up blood. You got static with Tyce, you take that shit outside.”
    “You ain’t even gotta trip fam. I would never disrespect your shit. If the nigga wanna dance I’ll gladly take it out back so I can toss his ass back in the dumpster where he was found. Bitches screamin’ Tyce, niggas screamin’ Tyce…muthafucka I’m Roman!” He frowned up his face.
                  No sooner had the fiery words spewed from his hair covered mouth a black Benz pulled up to the curb and parked in front of the shop. Malik knew exactly who the flashy car belonged to and so did the rest of the barbers in the shop. To his surprise, a short white dude exited the passenger side accompanied by his best customer…Tyce Adkins. The two men talked a bit by the car before making their way toward the door, but when they came inside once again the shop was on mute.
    I walked inside the barber shop first jiggling my keys. “What’s up peoples? What up Malik?”
    Peck trailed me as I sat down in the small waiting area in front of dozens of magazines neatly spread out.
    “This is my nigga Peck. You think you could fit him in after you done with me? I know you ‘bout to close up , but I’ll take care of you on the back end for the late notice.”
    I noticed the silent night feeling in the shop. Soft jazz flowed from the surround sound, but other than that nobody was saying shit.
    “Damn who died?” I turned my head to the side to look at Peck.
    “Nobody yet.” Rom an stared me down.
    I gave him a puzzled look. “What?”
    “Nigga you heard me, talkin’ ‘bout what.” Roman sucked his teeth loudly.
    I had no clue who that nigga with an attitude was. He looked familiar enough, but I’d never actually met the dude.
    I grinned. “A’ight nigga, you can tell your girlfriend don’t take it personal that I didn’t call her back after I hit it. I do that shit to a lot of women, but tell her to call me later and maybe we can work somethin’ out.”
    Peck slapped his thigh with the magazine and bu rsted into laughter along with the entire shop. Even Malik had to hold his round stomach as it shook like a spin cycle.
    “What the fuck ya ’ll laughin’ at?!” Roman snatched the drape cloth from around his neck and stood up abruptly.
    I remained seated as Roman took a few steps my way. Peck put his hand inside the front pocket of his Miami Heat hoodie and gripped his gun.
    “You better get your side kick before I plug his ass.” Roman pointed at Peck.
    Peck’s fingers closed around the handle and he glared at the rude stranger.
    I shook my head