London's Guard Is Falling Down

𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐒

[𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒]

𝐌𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄
morning I had to go get my hair done. Four stacked blueberry pancakes with sausages and strawberries.

I took the plate of food off the kitchen table and moved to the dining room where my mother, father, and London were eating.

"Morning, Mommy. Morning, Dad," I said as I grabbed a fork and knife from the center of the table. "London . . ." I trailed with a smug, cheeky look.

"Paris . . ." He mocked my tone and look.

"You can choke."

"Thank you," was his reply.

My mom gave me a confused but reprimanding look, as did my dad. They clearly didn't understand the joke.

"She's kidding," London explained briefly.

"You still shouldn't joke about things like that," Dad chided me. My smile disappeared.

I could see where this was going, my dad would end up giving London and I both a lecture on things what and what not to joke about.

"Dad, it was a joke. It's not that serious. Please, don't have a titty attack." I took my seat next to my mother and laughed lightly at my last sentence. London—sitting across from me—snickered which led him to burst out into laughter.

"A canip-nip," he added, making me burst out into laughter.

When we settled down, I let out a huff, a smile still on my face.

"Paris, you're going to Nia's, right?" Mom asked.

"Uh-uh, Nah. I'm done going to her apartment. The Nigerians are better; they untangle my hair for me, plus they're quicker," I replied.

When I finished my breakfast my mom got herself together to take me.

London was on the couch in the living room, playing with Cosmo while I was on my way out.

"Bye, London," I said.

"See ya, Paris."

⁣☼☼☼

My head, my ass, and my eyes were hurting. It took about two to three hours for the ladies to finish my hair. I had pre-paid so I was able to just say 'thank you and walk out.

I was surprised to see London walking through the door and not my mom.

He dapped me up and grinned, showing no teeth. I was still in the chair so he was standing over me.

"I'll shine your forehead for a nickel," he teased and tapped my forehead once.

"Get away from me." I grabbed his wrist so he would do it again. I couldn't stop my lips from twisting up into a smile, though.

"Anyways, you ready to go?"

I stood up from the seat. "Yeah."

I said thank you and bye to the ladies. My father's Bentley was parked near the shop, but he wasn't in it.

"What'd you do while I was gone?" I inquired when we were both situated.

"Let's see," he sighed, putting the key in the ignition. "I took a shower–"

"You still stink," I cut him off, jokingly obviously.

He chuckled. "And you're hair still looks fucked up, braids or not."

That's when I turned my body to him. "Now you know damn well I don't look fucked up." I tapped my finger again on his forehead.

"And you know damn well I don't stink." He grabbed my finger. "I know you're playing but don't touch me."

"Okay, yeah."

"So can I continue without being interrupted?"

"Yeah." He drove off.

"Okay. I finished some Biology homework, did some laundry, and watched some TV, which was pretty unproductive."

"Oh, what stuff do you use for clothes."

"I mostly use gain for the smell, so Gain detergent, the powder detergent, and scent boosters. I also add two tide pods."

"Tide pods, that's the thing with the green liquid in the little pack?" I verified.

He sighed. "Yes."

"Mm, okay."

"What do you use?"

"I don't know what it's called, but I just use the little green tablet thingies in the big Gain container."

"You– You just use scent boosters?"

That's what it is! "Yeah."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, it leaves my clothes smelling like heaven."

"Paris, you know you're supposed to add detergent, right?"

"I don't need detergent when I use the scent boosters."

"The scent boosters don't clean your clothes."

"Then why are they there?"

"To make the clothes smell good, fool."

"Oh," I realized. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, clearly. Come on, Paris, this is some level one young adult shit." I chuckled at that.

"Well, you learn something new every day!" I exclaimed with a shrug, beaming widely,

"Oh, Paris," he sighed. "Please do me a favor, and keep whatever the hell goes through your head — to yourself."