Archive of Our Own ^beta

The building is owned outright by an ordinary-looking man named Bobby, who has a long, long face. Bobby has seen the shop through two major renovations and the loss of two owners. While he loves Pop's with a white-knuckled grip, he doesn't know a thing about managing a barber shop, let alone cutting hair, and he's lost most of his staff in the building's destruction. He's looking for someone to breathe life back into what was once a hub for the community, to rebuild his friend's legacy. They talk about Pop, the kind of man he was, his vision and ideals.

Daniela thinks she would have liked him. Even if she'd have put a lot of money into the swear jar.

Daniela sells Bobby on the idea of opening the shop up to new clientele. She has most of what she'd need at her Bronx location. Bobby goes quiet and agrees, but his expression is impassive. When they work out a contract Bobby gives her freedom to shape the shop she likes in terms of services and staff, but the name stays, as do a few other things to make sure the shop's culture stays same. Everything they make above overhead and operating costs will be split into shares, the smallest for him, another for the previous owner, and the lion's share to her. It's still more than she'd make if she had to pay rent for a location like this.

At one point she asks him how he managed to buy the place. Bobby says the previous owner gave the place to him to run while he's away.

And it's not like she doesn't have a TV. She's seen the videos, even had a few scintillating conversations with Carla over Luke, but the world of superheroes seemed so far removed from Washington Heights. That's midtown shit, and Vanessa is welcome to it. What Daniela wants to know is how that man managed to purchase the property. Jokingly, she asks if he won the lottery. Bobby gives her a wry look and says, something like that.

As she signs her name, Bobby asks if she's threatened by Pops' history.

Daniela scoffs. She's not afraid of anything. Daniela's mother told her that immigrants were like plants that grew without water. She's ready to dig in and determined to thrive. She knows the boys behind the gang colours, respects Pop's policy of providing neutral ground for the community. 

Bobby laughs for the first time, and it's a hollow sound. That ain't what he meant at all.

Bobby's negativity aside, Daniela marvels at what can be built in this space. Vanessa arrives, wide-eyed and wondrous, and they're speaking in rapid Spanglish because the ideas are flowing too fast to be translated into one language. They'll have to get signs up to advertise their new services, and more shelves in for the women's products, and while they're at it, this dingy green paint needs to go.

It's a cramped transition that requires a couple of weekends and calling in more than a few favours, but Daniela is a shrewd businesswoman. Cultivating a network like hers was bound to pay off.

Bobby sits at his chessboard with his long, long face, eyeing the goings-on with his mouth set in a thin line. 

That is, until she and Vanessa bring him around the side of the building to see the mural they'd commissioned from Pete.

Nothing ostentatious, not showy or cheesy - that wasn't the kind of man Pop was. It's a tasteful design, a series of silhouettes sitting on barber's chairs. Clearly recognizable is Pop's silhouette, his head tossed back in laughter. Scrawled along the bottom and underlined with an arrow are two words in white script: Forward. Always.

Bobby's shoulders drop and his hand goes to tug at his beard. His long, long face melts into a fond grin, and the brightness in his eyes says it all.

Still, Daniela's not sure they've found their place yet. There's a guardedness in this part of Harlem that she didn't feel in the Bronx. She understands it, even if the social animal in her yearns to tap into the thrumming heartbeat of the community. Time. It will only take time.

So she smiles a little brighter, even when her customers would rather play chess with Bobby than chat with her.

Then a sharp-dressed woman brings her teenage son in. He looks like he hasn't had a haircut in about three months, his shoulders hunched and dark eyes peering at all the changes they've made.

Bobby greets him from the corner, calls him Lonnie. The subtle lines of distress that he'd been eyeing Daniela's modifications with are now directed towards the slight teenager, and Daniela's antennae go up.

Lonnie's mother's smile is just a bit too wide as she explains that Lonnie developed an allergy to scissors these last few weeks, but Daniela's been a professional busybody long enough to know what fear looks like.

Even though the boy is a teenager, Lonnie's mom takes out a magazine and looks as though she's ready to stay through the cut. Then she notices their sign. Surprised, she asks if they do manicures now.

Vanessa confirms this, displays her handiwork.

Away goes the magazine, the two women moving to the station where the fridge used to be.

Then it's just Daniela and Lonnie. She takes her time, chatters amiably about this and that. Asks him easy questions and responds with stories of her own. No customer wants to know when their stylist makes a mistake, so when she mutters something to herself in Spanish, Vanessa scolds from across the room.

Daniela repeats herself, rolls her eyes and puts two dollars into the swear jar.

Lonnie's lips curl into a smile and he asks her to translate what she'd said.

Daniela gives him a look like tonto and asks him if he wants her to be out three bucks instead.

He laughs.

She manages to draw him out enough to find that there's a new video game out he's interested in that his mom won't buy for him, because he has the others in the series. It takes her a minute and a half to make up her mind, and then she's offering - in a very subtle way - to let him help in the shop if he's looking to earn a couple extra bucks.

Lonnie says he'll think about it, but there's a lightness to his steps when he leaves that wasn't there before, which his mother has noticed based on the way her hand brushes against his shoulder.

Daniela gains a shop hand and her business partner becomes her friend.

Lonnie... gains some new vocabulary.

Claire hears about Pop's new management from her mother, of all places. Soledad used to watch Daniela back in P.R., and the nosy mothers' club is well resourced.

She's been picking up shifts at an emergency clinic to tide her over until something steadier comes up, but the work is hectic and the shifts that are available are usually at the wildest hours. She's come off an overnight and is on her way to her mother's place after a ten hour shift when she stops in. It's morbid curiosity that drives her in, and perhaps a sense of yearning to be connected to something that Luke loves.

When she pushes the door open, she's surprised to hear a regeton beat coming from a speaker mounted on the wall. There's a Puerto Rican flag on the wall next to a photo of the shop in the old days. Lonnie is sweeping up, his hair trimmed to a tight fade for the first time since Pop died.

There's a young woman attending to the short curls of a broad-shouldered man. He's waxing despondent about how tough it is to be taken seriously as the youngest manager at the taxi dispatch.

Sitting in her chair, Daniela shakes her burnished copper head and says patiencia y fe, Benny. The barrio wasn't taken over in a day. She rises to greet Claire, who introduces herself as Soledad's daughter. Claire struggles to come up with a reason for her presence.

But Daniela's two steps ahead of her, running a hand through the grown out portion of Claire's undercut, clucking her tongue at the dead ends. You don't get a lot of time to take care of yourself, do you honey?

I stay busy, Claire says, shrugging a shoulder.

Assientete. Soledad took care of me, let me return the favour.

She doesn't have the energy to protest as she's led by the hand to a sink. Then there is warm water cascading across her scalp and long fingernails working shampoo into her hair. Claire lets out a sigh that comes from her toes and she might just fall asleep in this chair.

Daniela alternates between singing along to the radio and chatting with Benny and the other stylist, Vanessa.

When she closes her eyes, Claire can feel it. The rhythm in the shop has shifted - from the smooth bass of Pop's voice and steady hum of the clippers to the staccato slice of scissors and the tacking of heels on linoleum. But as the faces that pass through the doors change, the melody at the core of Pop's remains the same. Deeply caring people, caring deeply about their community.

Luke is going to love this place.