2-In-1 Yada Yada: Yada Yada Prayer Group, Yada Yada Gets Down by Neta Jackson

Author:Neta Jackson [Jackson, Neta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, ebook, Christian, book, Fiction
ISBN: 9781418556051
Google: RcD_k-VcEJMC
Amazon: B004GJVX20
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2007-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

2

I stood there, unsure what I was supposed to do, alternately feeling pleased at Denny’s surprise and annoyed that he hadn’t warned me. I should’ve scrubbed my feet while I was in the shower! The bottoms always got so tough and cracked in the summer from wearing sandals—

“You can sit down, Jodi,” Avis said, patting the vinyl couch beside her and giving me her I’m-the-principal-but-I’m-not-going-to-bite-you look. “You’re next.”

Adele’s big, gold earrings—like quotation marks around her short red ’fro—jangled as she resumed applying hair-straightening goo on Florida’s head with a paintbrush.

“Yep.” Stu washed down the last bite of her slice of pound cake with a swig of coffee. “Just relax. Don’t worry about a thing.” She smirked, which didn’t comfort me at all. “We’ve already picked out your hairstyle and your nail colors.”

“You’re kidding, right? That’s supposed to make me not nervous?” I collapsed on the couch beside Avis, realizing my knees suddenly felt wobbly.

“Have some faith, girl!” Florida leaned forward in the beauty chair but was jerked back with a firm hand by Adele. “You ever see anybody walk outta here lookin’ worse than when they walked in? My, my, my. You gotta trust your hairdresser.”

Well, Adele wasn’t exactly my hairdresser. I’d only been to her shop once before—to get my nails done on the spur of the moment. (Forty-two and I’d never had a manicure before!) Frankly, I didn’t have a hairdresser. Amanda sometimes trimmed my hair, or I shelled out twelve dollars at Supercuts. Yet I had to admit that the women in Yada Yada who had started coming to Adele’s Hair and Nails after we all met at the Chicago Women’s Conference looked pretty spiffy after they got their hair done.

Adele peeled off her plastic gloves and said, “Leave that fifteen minutes—you watch the time.” Florida grabbed a magazine and popped over to the other beauty chair in front of the long wall mirror. “In the chair, Jodi,” Adele ordered.

I stood up, eyeing my friends suspiciously. Surely Avis wouldn’t let Stu and Florida choose a really far-out hairdo for me—would she? “What about these guys?” I waved a hand at Stu and Avis. “Aren’t they next?”

“In the chair, Jodi.” Adele held the black plastic cape with all the patience of a mother counting to ten. I sat.

“I’m just here as a consultant.” Stu grinned and tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, revealing the line of small pierced earrings running up the side of her ear.

Avis held up the back of her hand toward me, fingers spread out. “Nails. Soon as Corey gets done with her other nail appointment.” Corey must be Adele’s manicurist. I sucked in a tiny breath of relief. At least I didn’t have to face Adele getting down and scrubbing my feet like she did the last time, which unnerved me no end.

Adele put on new plastic gloves and began wetting my hair with a spray bottle.

“Uh-huh,” I said. “And how did you all just happen to be here all at the

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