June 30, 2020

Tangerine “Tangie” Nelson, part owner of the Crown of Beauty salon, is busier than ever doing what she loves to do. Her other full-time job involves being a single mom to three sons. After her youngest son is approved to attend a local charter school, Tangie is pleased with the results in her son’s progress. She’s sure his new school counselor, Nathan Chambers, has a lot to do with his growth. Tangie is also finding it hard to resist her growing attraction to Mr. Chambers.

Victory Gospel Shorts are sweet Christian romance short stories from 8,000 to 15,000 words, or 32-60 book pages. Meet a different member from the Victory Gospel Church family. Don’t be surprised if you see a character from the Victory Gospel Series or the Reed Family Series in a story.

NOTE: This short story reintroduces characters from the book, When Rain Falls, Victory Gospel Series, Book 1.

Read an Excerpt

I hated when I did this to myself, but I couldn’t stop glancing at the clock. It wasn’t like I could control the clock’s hands with my sheer will. Today, Crown of Beauty Salon hummed with a steady flow of clients. I had two regulars this morning and I decided to accommodate a mid-morning walk-in, whose hair I carefully hurried to finish now. The walk-in used to be a regular client I hadn’t seen in months. Miss Claire Rowell was a sweet older woman on a fixed income and there was no way I could turn her away. As I pulled the rollers from her hair, I tried deep breathing as best I could without being obvious. My anxiety levels were at an all-time high due to barely getting two hours of sleep last night.

Girlfriend, you need to get a grip.

I, Tangerine Nelson, just Tangie to most, had been the co-owner of the salon for about six months, ever since the former co-owner officially retired to care for her ailing husband. I’d been working at the salon for about eight years prior to the ownership change, the longest I’d ever worked anywhere. I loved what I did and the salon founder was one of my dearest friends. Candace Jackson knew what it meant to me to become a partner. Lately, I felt like I was destroying the partnership as well as our friendship. Today, Candace had been gracious once again about me taking time off.

I sighed deeply as I began styling Miss Rowell’s hair, determined not to look at the clock. Calculating in my head, I knew I had an hour to make it on time to my afternoon appointment… if Charlotte’s traffic wouldn’t hold me up. It was almost two o’clock in the afternoon but it had been my experience that there was really no time of the day when cars were not an issue on I-77.

As if she could sense my turmoil, Candace showed up at my side. “Hey, Tangie, how are you doing? If you need me to finish up Miss Rowell’s hair, let me know.”

“No, I got it.” I glanced at Candace via the mirror. “Thanks for the offer. I appreciate it.”

Candace patted me on the shoulder. “Okay, see me before you leave. I will be taking care of paperwork in the office.”

I nodded and then immediately regretted glancing at the clock. It was now five minutes after two o’ clock.

How did that happen?

Miss Rowell smiled appreciatively as she patted her silvery hairstyle, promising to return in the near future. I gratefully accepted her extra tip for the roller set and despite my anxious-filled day was pleased by my elderly client’s joy. As I headed back to the office, I slipped out of my purple salon vest. The vests were my idea a few years back. The logo for Crown of Beauty was emblazoned on the right side. I actually sketched it myself, an outline of a woman with glorious curls around the top of her head, like a crown. Long time employees like myself also had our names embossed under the logo.

I hung the vest on a hook behind the office door, and then moved swiftly to the other side of the room to open the closet door. My large brown bag sat on the floor. I lifted it and dug inside for my car keys. With keys in hand, I started to leave but then suddenly remembered Candace’s request. “Did you want to see me?” I asked, whirling back around to face the desk where Candace sat.

Candace stopped typing on the computer. “Yes, I wanted to pray with you. If that’s okay. I know you’re in a hurry, but it has been a busy morning with you accommodating the walk-in.”

My shoulders slumped.

I was also late this morning too. Candace was gracious enough not to mention, instead offering me prayer.

“Girl, I’m not turning down prayer. I don’t regret the walk-in. Miss Rowell is a blessing to me. She was really excited about getting to travel to her family reunion in Charleston. Poor lady doesn’t get out much these days.”

Candace stepped around the desk, a wide grin spread across our face. “You know my policy is not to turn anyone away if we can fit them in. We take care of our elderly ladies in this shop because we are never too old to stop looking good.”

Candace grabbed my hands and I closed my eyes. This salon office had become a meeting room for prayer so many times, especially in the past few months.

“Let’s pray.” Candace began, “Lord, we ask for protection and safety for Tangie as she heads down the road. We pray that you provide her peace beyond all understanding as she and her baby boy take on this new venture. We know that you opened the doors for Drake and that you intend for him to thrive. Help Tangie to continue to trust you and put her faith in you. You know what’s best and will work out all things for their good. We ask these in Jesus name we pray. Amen.”

I took a breath, feeling the release that had been pressuring me all day. I never considered myself a woman who could cry so easily, but in the past few years as my sons have grown up before my eyes, I found that leaning on God was the only thing that kept me from falling apart. I’ve been a single mom for so long and I often needed to be reminded I wasn’t alone. That I could let my burdens go.

I grabbed tissues from the desk and wiped the moisture from my eyes. “Thank you, I appreciate your prayers and your patience too. I know I haven’t been able to pull myself fully into this partnership and I haven’t pulled my weight with clients.”

Candace shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’ve been there with my two children. They are both grown now, but as a mother, you never stop worrying, especially when life is not treating your child in a good way. This all will pass, Tangie.”

I knew I could trust Candace’s testimony. She’d lost her husband ten years ago and raised her children alone before remarrying her current husband. I’d always admired Candace’s journey from her grief and loss. It was crazy how both of her husbands were in law enforcement. Despite the fears, I knew my friend lived a life dependent on faith.

Was it even possible for me to have a strong godly man in my life?

I had that kind of man in my life once. But now my life was dedicated to my boys.

“Thank you, again. I appreciate your friendship more than I can ever express.”

We shared a quick hug before I hurried outside towards my car. After I cranked the ignition on my Toyota Sienna, I welcomed the cool blast of air on my face. I typed the address to where I was heading into the van’s GPS screen. This van was not my dream car, but it had served me well over the years. Unfortunately it also looked and smelled like the three boys I often transported to various activities. My boys kept me up at night and it wasn’t because they were bad kids. I’d been blessed with some talented young men, but this weekend, they would all be tasked with vacuuming and washing the van.

As I headed out the parking lot adjacent to the salon, I had to smile at the thought of my rambunctious boys, almost young men, with the garden hose, probably going at each other with the water instead of concentrating on their chore.

I sighed deeply recalling a conversation with the twins about getting another car. One of the reasons I was excited about the partnership at the salon, it allowed me to put aside money for an extra car. Both twins had their driver’s permits. Although I was not ready for them to be driving, this mama needed a break. I knew I had to let go for my own sanity and allow these boys their independence.

When my mama was alive she always told me girls were hard. I guess that was because her experience was raising three girls, with me being the youngest. My sisters and I all managed to get pregnant at young ages, just like my mother. My pregnancy at age seventeen seemed to wound her the most. She felt like I should have learned from my two older sisters.

When we found out I was going to have twins, Mama put aside her disappointment to help me. I walked with my class for graduation, big belly and all. Later, I finished up my cosmetology degree, but instead of working at a salon, I spent years working in retail at various department stores, occasionally offering braids and hair extension services on the side to earn extra cash.

I merged into traffic on I-77, thinking of my younger days. My life had changed so much. Now at age thirty-three, I felt more grounded. Despite being a single mom, my life was full. Martin, the oldest twin by three minutes, was the point guard for South Meck High School’s basketball team during his sophomore year. My boy was good, no doubt, but I worried about how much his high school fame was going to his head. He was a good-looking kid too. His twin Mark, not as athletic but more book smart, was also devastatingly handsome. Mark played in the marching band with the goal of becoming a drum major. My high-achieving twins stayed glued to their phones, which I knew were filled with texts from girls. I lived on edge, sometimes borderline fear for my twins who turned sixteen a few weeks ago. They were growing into men far earlier than I was ready.

What I didn’t expect was the nightmare that entered my baby boy’s life this past school year. Drake was only ten years old. Unlike the twins, Drake was quiet, incredibly sweet and a little on the chubby side. I had to get him fitted for nearsighted glasses when he was in first grade. My little nerd! The boy read anything, including an old set of encyclopedias my mother had bought when I was in school. While I worried about the twins and what they were doing on their phones, I was never disappointed when I checked Drake’s tablet. He was more than likely reading a book. I admired him for that and often wished I possessed his appetite for reading.

The woman’s voice from the navigation system broke through my thoughts.

In two miles, take exit 13 towards I-85.

I gripped the steering wheel as I caught sight of the traffic ahead. Cars seemed to be moving steadily, but there was still too much traffic. I glanced at the dashboard clock and gritted my teeth. Almost two-thirty. I couldn’t afford to be late.

Drake was the last one I would ever expect to get into trouble in school. The call from Smithfield Elementary took me by sheer surprise. My sweet boy got into a fight. Sent home for a five day suspension. Five whole days. This kid had never been in trouble before.

It took me three days to drag out of him what prompted the fight.

“That boy has been bothering me for months, Mama.” Drake eyes were sad, but defiant, “I was tired of him. No one was listening to me. When he hit me, I’d had enough.”

Bullying! I was stunned. Why didn’t someone tell me?

Come to find out he’d told his teacher, the school counselor and the principal. Nobody did anything. No one bothered to call me. Well, until it was too late.

When I asked Drake why he didn’t tell me, he just shrugged.

That shrug hurt. I felt like out of all the adults I’d failed my son the most.

Drake had always been the quietest. He never complained. Ever. I took that as a good sign. But it wasn’t good. When Drake was younger he could babble for hours, asking questions. As he got older, he still had questions, but he learned how to read and find answers on his own.

I admit when I found out about the bullying, I didn’t handle the meeting with the principal very well. I could tell within a few minutes of talking to the man that he was a condescending jerk, who had already labeled my son a troublemaker for the fight. He didn’t care that my son was defending himself from a bully who threw the first punch. The fact that my son reported the bullying months before didn’t seem to faze the principal nor did it stop the suspension.

I knew I needed to do something.

Drake’s brothers were six years older and there never was a time when all the boys were at the same school. I’d often wondered if the bullying would have been an issue if Martin and Mark were around.

I had to reboot Drake for success. He was too smart to let an incident like this take him down. Some ladies from Victory Gospel Church, where I attended, suggested several charter schools in the area. And after researching and visiting open houses, I applied to the Charlotte STEM Lab School, also known as “The Lab.” Their application system was based on a lottery, but I trusted God that Drake’s name would be selected.

I was so overjoyed last Monday for the call and immediately told Drake. His face spoke volumes, his anxiety evident. During the spring, he had returned to school after the suspension, walking on eggshells. His grades had suffered from the stress. Drake never made less than a B, but ended up with two Cs on his final report card.

We needed this school to work for him.

It didn’t help my anxiety when I received another call at the end of last week, this time from the school counselor. He wanted me to make an appointment to talk about Drake. The call was ominous and had wreaked havoc on my nervous system the entire weekend until now.

What did the counselor want? Was he going to hold Drake’s suspension against him and not let him into the school?

School started in three weeks and I had set my hopes on The Lab. It’s promises of challenge-based learning, science and technology was what I knew Drake needed.

I guided the van towards the exit and after a few turns, the navigation system led me into the school’s parking lot. It was a modern building with a manicured landscape around the front. I took another breath and prayed again before stepping out of the van. When I swung open the school doors, I was consumed by the quietness of the building, with no students or faculty. I headed towards the glass windows where I spotted a bronze sign on the wall.

Administration.

I swung open the dark mahogany door and stepped inside, the royal blue carpeting with its zig zag pattern caught my attention before I looked up. A woman who looked close to my age sat at a desk behind the counter. She glanced up from the computer monitor and smiled. “May I help you?”

I stepped forward, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead in this meeting. “Yes, my son will be starting school here in a few weeks and I have an appointment with Nathan Chambers.”

“Wait one moment.” The woman swiveled around to pick up the phone on her desk. “Nathan, you have a parent here to see you.”

I sat down, admiring the woman’s hair. She wore goddess locs, and they were well done. I was still the only stylist at our salon who specialized in doing braids and locs. I reserved these clients for Fridays and Saturdays since the process took a while. I used to wear them myself. So much had changed with how I kept up with my looks and fashion. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a manicure or a pedicure, something I used to do quite regularly. There was no time these days.

“Mrs. Nelson?”

A smooth baritone voice interrupted my thoughts of how my life used to be. I glanced up and then found myself gripping the arms of the chair for a moment. I recognized the voice from the phone call last week, but what I didn’t realize was who the voice was attached to.

When did school counselors start looking like this?

Nathan Chambers was a gorgeous chocolate brother. Perfect white teeth. And beautiful brown eyes… eyes that were looking at me with some concern.

I know I was freaking out on the way here, but this is something entirely different. Pull it together, Tangie.

I blinked and stood, embarrassed by whatever came over my senses. I reached for the man’s outstretched hand. “Mr. Chambers?” I said the man’s name a bit breathier than I usually spoke. It was like something snuck up on me and snatched the wind out of my lungs.

He smiled, “Yes, I’m the middle school counselor here. I’m happy you were able to meet with me this afternoon. Follow me, my office is this way.”

“Okay.” I gripped my hands at my sides as I followed Mr. Chambers back towards his office. I’m not really sure how I made it back there, because my mind had drifted to places it hadn’t crossed in years.