Free A Cross to Bear by M.J. Lovestone

sleek barber chair. Four pumps of the lifting mechanism had Gabby’s toes dangling off the floor.
    “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked.
    “Gabby . . . Gabriella Cross . . . your highness,” she said playfully.
    “You can call me Quip,” he said, smacking his gum and nearly pulling Gabby’s hair out as he considered her in the tall mirror. “You’ve got beautiful hair, Gabs.”
    “Thank—”
    “But it’s in horrible condition. Look at these split ends! I haven’t seen a split end like that since . . . well, shit, since last weekend,” said Quip, this time actually high-fiving the Latino stylist behind him.
    “I haven’t had much time for myself,” said Gabby.
    “Mmm-hmm, well that’s about to change, now ain’t it . . . say, you say your name’s Cross?” He considered her and bit on his long thumbnail. “You related to Maggy?”
    Gabby bowed her head and sighed. “She’s my sister.”
    Quip missed nothing of her mannerisms. A shadow crossed his beautiful face, and he knelt down before her. “What is it? What’s happened to my Maggy?”
    My Maggy . . .
    At the mention of her father’s pet name for her sister, Gabby burst into tears.
    “Oh, no, say it ain’t so,” he said, hugging her.
    He was a stranger to her, but Gabby hadn’t yet had a proper shoulder to cry on during the entire ordeal. She gladly sunk into his strong arms and balled her eyes out on his shoulder.
    He let her get it out, but as soon as the final sniffle escaped her, he looked her in the eye and said, “You’re scaring me, child.”
    “I’m sorry. My sister . . . Maggy was killed.”
    All of the stylists in the place stopped what they were doing, all thirteen of them, and regarded Gabby with concerned looks. Quip clutched his chest and sat on the floor, regardless of his vanilla skirt. “Say it ain’t so, child.”
    “I’m sorry. Were you good friends?” Gabby asked Quip while eyeing the other stylists. They turned from her attention as one and went about their work. Still, a quiet permeated the place.
    Quip shot to his feet without answering. “Who was it?”
    The others didn’t turn and watch, but Gabby could feel their attention on her.
    “I . . . I don’t know. How do you know it was a who ? I didn’t say that she was murdered.”
    “You said she was killed. Was it an accident?”
    “Well . . . no.”
    “Do they know who done it?”
    “The police have no leads,” said Gabby.
    “Mmm-hmm, well they wouldn’t, now would they? But you do, don’t you?”
    Gabby hesitated, and it was enough confirmation for Quip.
    “Coming up in here to get dolled up. You planning something crazy?”
    “I—”
    “Child, if you think you know something, you’ve gots to tell the popo,” said Quip.
    Gabby began to get up. “I should go.”
    “I’m sorry, Gabby. Please, don’t leave. Your sister was a good friend of mine. You’ve got to tell me what happened.”
    Gabby glanced around again. The stylists and many of the customers were seemingly minding their business.
    Against her better judgment, Gabby told Quip almost everything that had happened, including her suspicions of a certain high-rolling billionaire, though she left out the name.
    Quip studied her when she was done. “And what? You gonna go infiltrate the John? See if you can’t get yourself killed as well?”
    Gabby thought of the black sedans. Was she getting in over her head?
    “I can handle myself,” she said.
    “Child, your sister could handle herself against the best of them, and she dead . You need to go be telling the poe-lease what you think you know, not dolling up to enter the lion’s den.”
    Quip was right, and Gabby knew it, but she couldn’t just do nothing.
    Finally, Quip sighed. “Must be your sister’s damned stubborn side. Fine then. If you’re going into the lion’s den, then you ain’t going in looking like a lamb.”
    When Quip was done with her, she didn’t even recognize herself in the mirror.