Chapter 111: Pop's Barber Shop
Though Frank got mugged, he accomplished his main goal—escaping from the driver.
The muggers only robbed Frank, which was a relief. At least they didn't kidnap him for ransom, considering that the deposit he paid was in precious jewels, unaffordable for most people, and his background remained unknown to them.
Remarkably, the skinny guy even followed through on his promise, providing Frank with new clothes and helping him leave Harlem Paradise, which seemed quite decent of them. Frank considered himself lucky—people in New York seemed trustworthy indeed.
Frank reached into his pants and pulled out a small cloth pouch.
"Still too naive," Frank thought, shaking the pouch, which jingled with the sound of precious metals, a satisfied smile on his face.
Frank knew the ropes, having encountered all sorts of lowlifes before. He was prepared with a backup plan, only losing the less valuable items. What he kept were the most valuable jewels.
Just how valuable? Enough that, if sold, the jewels in that pouch could cover Fiona's and even Lip's college tuition.
Frank had hidden the pouch in his underwear, a place where no one would think to look. The young birds were no match for the old sparrow.
The old "Frank" had once hidden in a public toilet's muck to evade pursuers.
"Though I'm safe now, I still need a place to lie low," Frank thought, assessing his surroundings.
He had discarded his phone and any clothing that might contain tracking devices. Only his underwear and socks were his own, worn before coming to New York.
The driver couldn't track him now.
However, though the skinny guy had helped Frank out of Harlem Paradise, he hadn't taken him far before kicking him out of the car, so Frank was still in Harlem.
But New York is vast, and Harlem is relatively small.
Though Frank carried precious jewels, he had no cash—not a single cent.
In Harlem, cashing in the jewels wasn't an option. Even attempting to sell a single jewel would likely lead to another mugging, odds of which were over ninety-nine percent, especially since he was a conspicuously out-of-place white man.
Without money, Frank's only way out was on foot.
The driver was surely searching for him, and Frank didn't want to risk running into him on the streets, negating all his efforts.
"Looks like you're having a rough day," a voice interrupted Frank's thoughts.
Frank turned to see an older, slightly overweight black man dressed in loose clothes and a brown fedora, resembling a retired gentleman who enjoyed park strolls.
"Who are you?" Frank asked.
"You can call me Henry. This is my shop," the man replied.
Frank turned to see he was sitting in front of a shop labeled "Pop's Barber Shop," realizing he'd been blocking the entrance.
Looking disheveled and akin to a vagrant, Frank realized he was likely scaring off customers.
"Sorry, I'll move," Frank quickly said.
"No worries, business is slow anyway. Care to come inside for a bit?" Henry offered with a warm smile.
Seeing Henry meant no harm, Frank nodded, needing a place to hide from plain view.
Inside, the barbershop was a nostalgic throwback to the seventies or eighties, its décor and furniture exuding a vintage charm. Although simple, it was comforting for someone of Frank's age.
The shop was divided into a business area for haircuts and shaves and a back area with rooms for living and cooking.
"I have some dry clothes here, just some of my old things. If you don't mind, you can change into them. It's still a bit chilly even though it's spring," Henry offered, handing over some clothes.
"Thanks, man," Frank said, taking the clothes to change in the back.
Once changed, Frank returned to find Henry at a table setting up a chessboard. Frank took a seat across from him.
"You're new to Harlem, right? Where are you from?" Henry asked.
"Chicago, and I received quite the 'warm' welcome," Frank replied, picking up a chess piece.
"Harlem's a lot better than it used to be," Henry sighed.
Henry was quite the conversationalist, as older, wiser folks often are.
Despite being strangers, Frank and Henry hit it off, chatting and playing chess like old friends.
Henry shared his story, and Frank reciprocated.
Henry was a Harlem native, having grown up in the area. As a youth, he ran with street gangs—a common path for ninety percent of his generation from Harlem, with the remaining ten percent leaving for better prospects.
In his younger days, Henry was a notable figure until he was arrested and spent over a decade in prison.
Upon release, he chose to leave his past behind, opening Pop's Barber Shop.
Though just a regular barbershop, in Harlem, it served as a sanctuary—a neutral ground offering refuge to young people in trouble.
Henry understood that many kids didn't want to be gang members. Given a choice, who would want to risk their lives daily, potentially dying in the streets? But Harlem's environment often left them with no choice.
With age, experience, and reputation—where in gangs, age itself was an advantage—Henry managed to retire gracefully.
In his prime, today's big players were once his protégés, calling him "big brother."
Henry's decision to retire and open a barbershop was respected by these figures, grateful for his past guidance.
Thus, Pop's Barber Shop became a place where no violence occurred—a neutral zone where even rival gangs could negotiate peacefully to avoid bloodshed.
(End of Chapter)