I wanted to wear the beads as soon as possible so in the afternoon, my mother helped me unplait my braids. They were getting old anyway, and I needed to replace them.

I always loved it when I had to do or undo my hair because it was the time I bonded with my mother. Sitting between her legs while she worked on my hair, exchanging stories about our lives and speaking out our feelings all the while. It was during these times that she would tell me about father and her relatives and I would tell her what Ed and I had been up to.

That particular afternoon, I found myself opening up to her about Callum. I’d never told her about Cyrus because I saw no need to, but it was different with Callum. I didn’t tell her everything in detail, because I knew she understood when I simply uttered the phrase, “I like him.”

That was the thing about my mother and me. We didn’t have to speak a lot in order to communicate our feelings. I’d never spoken about any boy with her, and I told her I liked Callum.

Of course she figured it out and she had no more to say but “I hope it goes well.” And she wrapped her arms around my neck from behind, her face in my hair in an awkward hug.

To me, that was enough reassurance.

Once all the braids were out, I was left with my kinky hair standing up and wide like a bush –or the end of a witch’s broom. I did like how it looked and I was tempted to keep it like my mother’s – in a decorative puff at the back of her head. But I really wanted to wear the beads, and they’d stay better in a style that lasted longer, hence braids again.

I could’ve washed my hair myself, but I let mother do it for me instead. We laughed about little things as she did, and once my hair was all clean and damp, she applied the hair softening creams and plaited my hair again in well-spaced and organised knots. It hurt a bit, but not as much as it used to when I was little.

“Your father always ran away whenever I plaited your hair because he couldn’t see you in pain,” mother said to me, her tone nostalgic.

“I didn’t use to cry that much,” I argued.

“Rosie, you’d wail.”

I snickered at that. “Maybe just a little.”

“It drove me crazy,” she groaned. “You’d wail that you want your hair plaited, and once I started, you’d wail throughout it.”

I laughed. “It’s the price we pay for beauty.”

“Took you long enough to finally understand that.”

When I first got to Richard Town, I envied the white people with soft silky hair – the one that naturally fell down as it grew, unlike mine that grew the same way trees did – standing up.

But then I learned to love my own, and I realised that all kinds of hair came with pros and cons. My hair wasn’t ugly simply because I thought their hair was beautiful. My hair was beautiful just the same as it came with its negatives. Their hair was beautiful just the same as it came with negatives.

But as much as each hair type, eye colour and skin colour all had beauty in itself, it didn’t matter when it came to the heart. It shouldn’t completely define what the person is on the inside and what the person is capable of. Barriers based on these attributes were illogical.

*****

Midday on Wednesday found me seated in Madam Monica’s hair salon, grinning at my reflection in the wall mirror. I looked beautiful.

My previous braids had been of three strands, but these were thick two-strand twists, black in colour and ending at my shoulders in the brown beads Callum had given me.

The fresh style hurt like a bitch, but I loved it.

Madam Monica’s hand touched my hair, lifting the beaded ends. “Trust me honey, if this was really a gift from a boy like you said, then he definitely likes you.”

My grin stretched further. “I sure hope so.”

*****

I didn’t confess my feelings to Callum as soon as I expected to. Instead, I found myself wrapped up in Ed’s wackadoodle plan to catch the drug supplier who’d given Callum the ganja cookies.

“Your plan is whack,” I stated bluntly.

Ed groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts already!”

She had attacked me in my home the previous evening and told me how I was supposed to meet up with the drug supplier whose alias was ‘Max.’ She’d snooped and spied around till she discovered that Max was staying at Aries pub.

She’d then written to him anonymously under the pen name ‘Hargreeves,’ requesting for some ‘damn good high end cookies’ to which he agreed. They were supposed to meet today, Thursday, in the alley between the library and the barbershop. Ed threw the identity of Hargreeves upon me.

I’d objected at first, but turns out Ed had already sold me to the pub in exchange for the information on the drug supplier and for the pub owner to act as a messenger between the two. Ed promised him a singer for his ‘Entertainment Saturday Show.’

And who was the singer? Me.

She also made this speech about how she wanted Inspector Raphael to recognise her skill and dedication and I quote, "What better way than to show him?”

I’d reluctantly agreed to everything but now I wasn’t so sure. It was Thursday morning and I was seated on Ed’s bed while she rummaged her wardrobe for clothes to lend me.

Since Hargreeves was a man, I had to dress like him. Which was stupid because I looked too feminine to be a man. Case in point was my hair and my curves.

“Not really second thoughts but think about it,” I said. “Is this Max really going to be fooled by me? You stand a better chance at playing Hargreeves.”

“I told you I have to be the one to catch him red- handed.” Ed threw me a pair of brown trousers and a white button-up. “Braces or no braces?”

“I don’t know. Take your pick,” I replied. “What if he runs?”

“He won’t be able to because I’ll tackle him right away.” Ed threw me a waistcoat and a swallowtail coat. “And then I’ll tie him up.”

Well, she’d tackled Gareth before so on that part, I could trust her.

“Will a rope really be enough?” I asked.

“It won’t be quick enough,” Ed replied and reached into her drawer underneath the wardrobe. “Which is why I got these.”

She turned to face me, grinning, and in her hands dangled a pair of silver handcuffs.

My eyes widened and I gasped. “Are you supposed to have those!”

“Relax.” Ed waved a dismissive hand. “This is all for the greater good. It will all blow over once we cuff the villain.”

That was code for ‘I’m not supposed to have these.’

“I actually think Inspector Raphael’s going to be mad instead of pleased,” I voiced, folding the clothes over my arm.

“All for the greater good, Nkwanzi,” Ed reminded me. “Plus I know you and I know deep down, you’re up for this mission and all that it takes. You’re just as excited as I am.”

She was right and I hated that she knew me so well. The moment I saw the stolen handcuffs, my adrenaline started pumping in a good way. I couldn’t deny that I was excited.

“So, Agent Hargreeves,” Ed said and smirked at me. “Do you accept the mission?”

I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling, but it was futile. The whole disguise sting operation did sound fun.

“Oh fine, let’s do it.” I gave in at last, standing up.

“Yes!” Ed cheered and lifted her hand. “High five, my sister!”

I obliged and slapped my hand against hers, laughing.

You can’t spell Rose and Ed without Rose.

*****

Four o’clock in the evening – the witch’s hour. Also known as the judgement hour, the hour of reckoning, the hour of when everything was to go down.

I’d spent the previous hours rehearsing and preparing myself to fit into the character of a man known only as ‘Hargreeves.’ I was dressed in Ed’s trousers, shirt, waistcoat, jacket, tie and dress shoes. The bagginess did, in fact, hide my feminine curves. I’d held my braids in a bun and completely hid them under Ed’s father’s white cowboy hat.

He was a doctor, but seemed to have an obsession with cowboy hats, judging from the various ones we found in his bedroom. They even had their own rack.

I was already at the designated meeting place in the alley while Ed loitered around the barbershop, on the lookout for Max. I stood with my thumbs tucked into the belt, hoping it made me look more manly. At least that’s how I saw the young men like Abraham and Benjamin stand.

In a few seconds, I heard a smooth deep voice say from beside me, “A roaring lion.”

My heart startled, and I nearly jumped. That was the code Ed and Max had set in their letters.

I turned to my left and saw the target standing in front of me, looking exactly the way Callum described except with no cane.

“Kills no game,” I completed his proverb and a sly smile crossed his diamond shaped face.

“Mr. Hargreeves, I presume?” he asked.

I pursed my mouth to the side and deepened my voice. “It is. Mr. Max?”

“It is,” he replied and tipped his hat to me. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”

I couldn’t tip my hat because of my hair situation, so I extended my hand to him instead. “I only accept firm handshakes.”

He looked disappointed but still obliged and shook my hand with the grip of pliers.

I had to hold in my squeak of discomfort and pain. “Ah-ha-ow-Wow that’s a firm handshake indeed,” I managed through gritted teeth.

“May we go straight to business?” he requested, withdrawing his hand.

“Of course, I am a professional after all,” I replied in my fake voice of the fake persona. “May I see the goods?”

He arched a brow, but kept the grin on his face. “And the payment?”

“I am a professional, Mr. Max, but are you?” I asked in a monotone. “Surely you must know that goods must be inspected before handing over payment? No need to worry about the payment because I am an honourable man who takes my deals seriously.”

Ha. I had zero money and no honour whatsoever.

There was some reluctance in his face, but I tipped my chin up and gave him a sharp gaze. It was easy to make myself domineering because he was shorter than me, and he soon relented.

“I do not doubt that,” he said. “I am a professional as well.”

And with that, he reached inside his coat.

My gaze flicked sideways to my dear friend Ed, who was hiding behind the wall and peeping at us.

It was time for the real action. I gave the signal to start moving by using my index finger to tip my hat up slightly. She got the message and tip toed into the alley. I now had to keep moustache over here distracted; and also create enough room for Ed to handcuff him.

Max pulled out a brown paper bag from the inside of his coat.

“Feel free to inspect-” He stretched it out to me, but I took a stride back. He looked at me in confusion.

“Sorry, I just...” I cleared my throat. “...farted.”

It was the best I could come up with.

Max’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Oh, I see.”

“Stretch out the bag and open it. I will inspect from here,” I ordered, still keeping my domineering persona even though I must have come off as a scoundrel for farting so carelessly.

Max turned his grimacing face away, but agreed to my demands so that both his wrists were stretched out towards me.

Perfect.

“And what is the marvellous ingredient that makes these cookies so...damn special?” I asked, hoping he’d get the hint.

His brown eyes narrowed and he said in a low tone, “Don’t you know?”

I covered up quickly. “I prefer to be surprised because...I like surprises.” I smirked. “And if you tell me which...kind this treat is, and I enjoy it, I will be able to order more of it.”

That seemed to buy him. So he lowered his voice into a whisper and replied, “It’s opium.”

Was that what he had given Callum?

“Not ganj- er, uh, not cannabis?” I prodded, seeking more answers.

“Cannabis is only a trial run, for when I’m marketing using a first taste,” he whispered. “This.” His chin gestured to the bag. “Is the real deal, for when I get actual customers such as yourself. Think of it as next level stuff.”

So what Callum had taken was ganja after all.

“Interesting,” I mused, touching the paper bag.

And that’s when a pair of handcuffs encircled his wrists, and Ed showed up next to us.

“Sir, you are under arrest for the supply and sale of illegal drugs,” she stated in a cool voice, looking at Max with a steely gaze.

I smirked. Right on, Ed.

Max’s eyes widened as he looked from Ed to me, and it registered.

Ed grinned and continued, “Now if you’ll come with me to the station-”

The rogue flung his cuffed arms up, shoved me against the wall and sprinted down the alley – opposite where Ed had emerged.

“Fucker!” Ed cursed and started after him. I followed, both of us sprinting.

My heart raced as I jumped into the brighter street and curved to the left.

“Hey!” I hollered at the fleeing criminal ahead of me, both of our legs moving at a rapid speed. He bumped into several shocked people while I easily dodged them.

“Criminal!” I hollered, pointing at Max. “Stop that criminal!”

My breathing came out harsh as I increased my pace and curved into another street. The wind I stirred against me caused the cowboy hat to lift and tip back, so I had to keep it pressed down to my head with one hand. The bagginess of the trousers made it hard to run as well, and the criminal seemed to get further from me.

He was one fast bastard.

I saw him turn his head to look at me as he ran, and that is when he collided into someone. The someone was quite sturdy and strong, because instead of falling, he grabbed the rogue by his shoulders and flung him into the nearest wall – of the draper’s. Gasps and murmurs surrounded the scene and I skidded to a stop, my heart pumping fast and breaths coming out short and heavy.

Two police officers came to the aid of the saviour, who upon closer observance, was Inspector Raphael.

Oh shit.

Inspector Raphael picked up Max from his slumped position and held him against the wall. He seemed to be threatening him from the sneer on his face.

Abruptly, Inspector Raphael cocked his head towards me and I hung my head swiftly, tipping my hat down to shield my face. If he saw me and figured everything out, I was dead meat.

Loud breathing accompanied by fast footsteps reached my ears as somebody jogged up next to me.

“What happened?” Ed inquired between bustling breaths, placing her hands on her hips.

“SERGE!”

We flinched at Inspector Raphael’s deep bellow, which was sure to have shaken the very earth upon which we stood.

“Oh shit,” Ed cursed under her breath.

“This is your problem now,” I said, still shielding my face. “I can’t let him see me.”

“Leave it to me, dear friend. I’ll handle it,” Ed assured, staring up ahead. “Get out of here.”

I turned on my heel and began walking.

“How goes it, partner!” Ed hollered in a vibrant tone.

“Get your fucking arse over here right this fucking second!” was Inspector Raphael’s scary reply.

I increased my pace. Oh, he was angry.

R.I.P, my dear friend.

A/N:

It was fun writing this chapter. From Rose and her mother to Rose and Ed.

Thank you for reading😊 and don’t forget to vote⭐🎶!