The fiancée contract

When Quisha got home she looked at his card. She’d seen commercials for his company for a couple of years and knew of him in passing and from local news promotional spots. She took a shower and slid under the covers before sleep took her to another realm.

The next morning she thought about the proposition. What could it hurt? she thought to herself as she had breakfast. She had more money than she knew what to do with for the first time in her life, but she growing weary of showing her behind to strange men.

Staying in school was her priority, but the upwards of six-hundred dollars a night made her put school on the back burner and it was unlikely she would find another job that would pay her enough to stay in her loft.

She had to admit to herself that the dancing world she had become a part of was interesting and intriguing. It afforded her dates with men of a certain caliber and allowed her to rub elbows with a few local rappers and other big-spenders. After breakfast she called Chad.

“Yes, I’ll do it,” she told him. “For how long and how much money are we talking?” she asked.

“Ok, first things first,” Chad said. “Maybe we need to talk in person to get the rules straight,” They agreed to meet in a public area during the day. They met at a busy mall outside of Detroit in an upscale area.

Quisha dressed in a cute but modest sundress and a pair of espadrille heels. Within minutes Chad was walking into the mall towards their agreed upon spot. He turned heads as he made his way towards Quisha.

“Thank you for meeting me,” he said and directed her to a seat where they could speak in relative privacy. He smiled at her, not knowing where to start.

“As I explained the other night,” he started, “my mother has been on my case about settling down, and, and—,” he started but Quisha interrupted him.

“You want me, a Black woman to scare your mother out of your business? She asked. “You’re a grown man.” She shook her head. It made no sense to her. Chad smiled nervously; he was embarrassed with himself and his mother who he knew didn’t care for Black people—especially Black women. But he pressed on. When he saw Quisha draw back he added,

“Whatever you make in one night at the club I will double it. I will talk to Hank so you can have some sort of leave-of-absence. What is your priority right now?”

“I want to finish school. That is the only reason I’m dancing,” she answered.

He listened and said, “Use this opportunity to make some real money, study and not work for a couple of months. It’s a win-win for both of us.”

It was an offer she couldn’t refuse, so they agreed to go out a few times to make it real before he presented her to his mother.

* * *

Their first date, he took her to the Crest restaurant. It was classy and a place she never dreamed of ever going. The wait staff knew Chad and was eager to wait his table. Quisha looked beautiful and Chad was equally handsome.

They were an amazing looking couple and they didn’t go unnoticed by some people who wondered how and why they were together. Chad took no mind, but Quisha was self-conscious as women glanced disdainfully at her—a mixture of classism and racism.

She began to re-think the whole thing; money wasn’t so important that she wanted to be looked at like a leper. He must have sensed her discomfort and placed a hand over hers to draw her back into the conversation.

She decided to ignore the onlookers and concentrated on what that money she made from this handsome man would do for her.

By the second and third date it was much of the same as he took her to places she would never have been able to go on her own. He had a skybox at the Palace of Auburn Hills. Watching the Pistons from the suite, along with catering, told her she didn’t want to go back to her humdrum life. She sat in awe of the view while Chad sat leisurely behind her watching her enjoy the game. They were the only ones in the suite. She felt his green eyes appraising her and she turned around to look at him.

“How about a private dance?” he asked. With the amount of money he was paying her, she couldn’t refuse. She had dressed for the occasion, knowing it was inevitable. She stood up and pulled up her short skirt, revealing a thong and turned around to face him.

Then she pulled her top above her head revealing a pretty metallic silver bra. In her platform stilettos, she did a sensuous dance for him before sitting on his crotch and gyrating against him. She stood up and straddled him, drew him into a deep kiss, and stopped. She attempted to stand up but he pulled her back onto his lap.

“No,” she said against his mouth as he kissed her.

“I’m sorry, but, this is not me,” she said. The few months she’d been dancing, letting men touch her so intimately had not happened—even though some of the other dancers supplemented their income by doing private dances and going on dates.

“Ok, ok,” he said. She could feel his erection. “But, I still want you to do as we agreed,” he said as she put her clothes back on. “Carnelle Pleasur—the irony,” he said snidely.

“My mistake was allowing myself to be purchased like some cheap whore,” she said. “You know what this was a big mistake.” She attempted to leave.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have assumed. Let me make it up to you.” He took her home.

The next day he showed up at her apartment with roses and another apology. They went to a restaurant of her choice. The restaurant was less formal and it allowed them to talk on an open and honest basis. He even made her laugh a few times at his corny jokes. Quisha felt he was in his world at expensive restaurants and he had his guard up.

* * *

A month later

Chad and Quisha had been on several dates and was beginning to genuinely enjoy each other’s company. It was a different experience for each of them as they stepped out of their comfort zones. They showed up at his mother’s house a few weeks into the sham. His mother lived in a modest mansion about forty minutes outside of Detroit.

Chad felt it was best to have dinner with just his mother, and not his siblings and other family members as a way to break the ice. He knew he would not have had the courage to pull this off if his father was still living.

His sister and her two children lived with their mother—she’d gone through a horrible divorce and moved back into their parents’ house to get back on her feet. It was convenient while she worked because her mother took care of her children with the help of a part-time nanny.

“You look very pretty,” Chad told Quisha as they waited for someone to answer the door. It was his mother, who didn’t hide her surprise upon seeing the pretty young Black woman who stood beside her son. She looked at Chad, confused. He smiled broadly and kissed his mother on the cheek. His mother looked at Quisha and welcomed her in. The woman was not what Quisha had expected—she looked sickly and frail and wondered why Chad didn’t tell her his mother was ill.

“Mom, this is Quisha...my fiancée.” A subtle expression crossed Chad’s mother’s pretty features. “Quisha, this is my mother, Elizabeth,” Chad said.

“How do you do?” his mother asked gracefully. “Make yourself at home, dear.” Chad’s mother said and then motioned him to the kitchen.

When she had her son out of Quisha’s earshot she asked,

“Son, who is she. Where is Jessica?”

“Jessica broke up with me,” he lied. He somehow knew if he told his mother he was the one who broke it off with her it would bring about a whole new set of issues he wasn’t interested in facing at the moment.

His mother regarded her son for a moment and put on a fake smile and went back into the dining room. The dinner was fairly quiet as they all looked for words to keep the conversation going.

“So, how do you think the president is doing?” his mother asked Quisha. Quisha gave Elizabeth a really? look. Because I’m Black, let’s talk about the first Black president? she thought to herself before giving his mother an answer—she hadn’t come to talk about politics.

“What do you do for a living?” Elizabeth then asked Quisha.

“She’s a branch manager at Trust Federal bank,” Chad spoke for Quisha. She looked at him and kept quiet.

“When did you become engaged? And when are you getting married?” his mother asked.

Chad glanced over at Quisha. She knew his stare meant let me handle this.

“I asked Quisha to marry me a week ago. We were thinking to get married in a year.”

Chad’s mother was very savvy and not easily fooled. She didn’t know what her son was trying to pull, and narrowed her eyes and looked over at him. She knew her son had a Black girlfriend in college—but she thought he had gotten it out of his system.

“And where did you say Jessica is again?” his mother asked.

He glanced up at her, knowing she was being messy.

“I told you, Mom, it didn’t work out between us,” he said.

On the car ride home Quisha said, “Well, that was different.”

Chad laughed. “Yeah, but if this works, it will be good for me and even you,” he reminded her.

“Sorry if this is personal, but, is your mother, ill?” Quisha asked cautiously.

“Yes, she has lung cancer,” Chad answered. “Mom was a smoker for many years. She’s a strong woman and has the best doctors money can buy. I have faith that she will beat this.”—he went off into a faraway thought.

“I hope tonight wasn’t too awkward for you.” he said.

“I was ok,” Quisha said with a smile.

He dropped her off at home.

Later that evening Chad’s phone rang. It was his mother. He was just settling into bed. He had a busy work day the following day.

“Why did you bring that, that, person to my house?”

“Mom, that’s the woman I love you’re talking about,” he said.

“I don’t like her. What would your father think,” Elizabeth said annoyed with her middle child.

“Mom,” he challenged. “What exactly is wrong with Quisha?”

His mother was quiet before she answered. She knew her son liked challenges. She also knew her son loved forbidden fruit; she thought back to another girlfriend of his she didn’t like.

The more she fought against his choice in that young lady the more he sought her and she figured he would be the same way with this Quisha person.

“Dear, she is simply not a good fit for you. Think about your…future children,” she said. Her voice cracked as if she was about to cry and Chad wondered why she got emotional. He let his mother get a few more things off of her chest before they hung up.