Pappasito's Cantina is always full on Saturdays cruising around the parking lot looking for space seemed like a complete waste of time.
Tess drove a 1992 Jeep Wrangler, a rust bucket gum, and duct tape held her together. Her daddy's gift to her 15 years ago, the AC was blowing warm air on her chest, a sure sign the Wrangler had seen better days.
The tight parking space a natural fit for her, her long legs peeled from the diver's seat, "clank" the car door banged into the car next to her, not caring too much about, can't be late, she thought eyes scanning the parking lot still no sign of Jenney;
Thinking to herself she did say,
"Let's meet outside the restaurant!"
The humidity clung to her thick and moist, one hand fanning her face, did nothing to rid of her moisture mustache.
Tess's iPhone started to vibrate, a string of messages from Jenney.
On my way be there in 10 minutes
See ya in 2
Get out before another lockdown, she thought—rolling her eyes.
Why am I waiting outside?
She answered herself with a shoulder shrug, wanting to get back into her jeep and blast the AC.
OH Yeah, that doesn't work!
Licking the sweat from her lip, like a dummy shaking her head, gritted her teeth, feeling the straight, smooth silkiness of her hair strand by strand slowly transform into a giant frizz ball.
Through the air, Tess heard Jenney's high pitched voice,
"Hey, girl, why are you waiting outside, it's so hot?"
Tess replied, slightly trembling.
"Look at my hair; it's frizzy." I hate it."
Jenney stood for a moment gawking at Tess's hair and said,
"Your hair looks good,"
reaching into her handbag pulling out a brand new bandanna
"Here put this on and wait;"
as if pulling a rabbit from a hat.
"I got you a scrunchie too."
"Why is your hair, kinda straight?"
"Its the humidity, nature's unwanted steam bath."
An hour of blowdrying and straightening was all for nothing. The frizz battle was lost; her frizzy and unruly hair had awakened.