"That woman should be ashamed of herself!" Miss Marcie said, a perpetual grimace ever present on her wrinkled brown face. Juicy wrapped the stiff piece of hair around the curling iron, expertly pumping the handle until there was a smooth curl bouncing beneath her fingertips.

"What did that heffa do now?" Juicy asked, barely listening to the old woman's idle gossip. It was hard for her to focus when she had so much shit cluttering her head. Is that how Troy felt; head wanting ...