Eight
I wake up to a grip of text notifications. Between my social media accounts, I have around 1500 friend requests. When my mother decided she was going to be a groupie for life, I made sure no one knew a damn thing about me. I don’t accept friend request unless I actually know that motherfucker.
I finally know why.
No surprise that word about our notorious fight hit the gossip blogs early. I don’t even have to wonder if my mother was the one that contacted all of the blogs or someone on her behalf. But since there were eyewitness accounts to what happened, someone blabbed.
And of course, my internship might be in trouble.
I rub my eyes and my head is pounding. After the nightclub, I went home and showered. And then I killed a fifth of Henny. I hate Henny. But I drank it because I know Andrea hates it too, and well, somewhere in that fucked-up mind of mine, I drank it in spite of her.
Yeah, it didn’t make sense last night and it makes no damn sense this morning.
I wish I didn’t listen to Tasha’s knock-kneed ass about attending that wack-ass party. However, I did, and today will be the last day of my damn internship because guess what? My black ass is all over the fucking blogs.
TSR Exclusive – Hip-Hop Wives cast member Andrea and daughter in a knockout fight!
That Hot Sauce Exclusive – HHW member Andrea and daughter come to blows!
Facebook Wenches and the Fibroids Who Love Them Exclusive – HHW member Andrea and daughter fight!
Okay, so maybe I made up that last one.
I quickly clear my notifications and keep everyone in purgatory waiting hell. In a few months, they’ll forget about my ass and hopefully, they’ll rescind the request. At least I hope so. I ain’t got time for stalking-ass niggas wondering how they’re gon’ beat their dicks to my latest upload.
I hear a knock on my door and Tasha just lets her ass right on in. Thank God I mostly sleep with some clothes on or she would’ve seen something else on me that’s bald. “Good Morning to you, too, bitch.” I greet her.
Tasha waltzes right in with a small box in her hands. She hands it to me and sits on my bed as she stares at me. Her eyes are as pink as Barbie’s dream house, and she’s probably still tipsy from last night. I hear a toilet flushing and know that’s SoundCloud’s non-rapping ass using up my plumbing. I need to get away from these niggas for real.
“You have a package,” she lightly taps the box, “Me and Junie were up baking when I saw a SUV pull up. Some older white dude got out and left the package at the front door without ringing the doorbell. I thought it was some dude about to serve some papers because I’m late on some credit cards but nah…” She taps the package again. “…it’s for you.”
I look down at the package and my name is handwritten on it. I open the box and it’s a small vial with a handwritten note. “Drink this before you go to the internship. Once you arrive, see me immediately.” I flip the card and it’s signed by Savior.
I quickly drink the vial and notice it tastes something like regret, love spell, and fish. It goes down easy and I’m hoping it stays there. I put the vial away and get out of bed. “I need to head to my internship.”
“Are you going to talk about last night?” Tasha inquires. I know she’s acting like concerned friend but I also think she wants to sell my ass out to the highest bidder. I know she’s late on her phone bill.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I go into my closet and pull out some slacks, a pink dress shirt, and those kitten heels that white girls seem to be into nowadays. I pull out my Vickie Secret’s bra and panties and call it a day. “I really have nothing to say.”
“Nothing? Nothing at all?” Tasha pushes. Yep, I definitely know her ass is going to the blogs. With a friend like her, why have enemies?
“Nothing,” I tighten my lips. I’m going to be on my best behavior because I don’t know if word got back to the firm about what happened last night. I damn sure don’t need to give Savior any reason to let go of me. “I’m about to shower and leave. See you later, Tee.”
~~~~~
I arrive at the Ellison law firm and I immediately see people turn heads. I can’t tell if they’re looking at me with sympathy because of Andrea, amazement because I’m not wearing a head full of India’s finest, or they know my black ass is about to be fired and I’m not even hired.
How do you get fired on your day off?
“Good Morning, Keisha,” a young, slim man walks up to my desk. He’s wearing a V-neck sweater, tweed slacks, and black shoes. He looks like the type that would eat caviar for breakfast, lobster for lunch, and more caviar and lobster for dinner. “Here is your schedule for today. You’ve been requested to attend this afternoon’s meeting by Savior.”
I look down at the schedule. I’ve been scheduled to go to several meetings, meet with a few lawyers for 15-minute increments, and help with any task the lawyers need.
All of that is fine and dandy, but it’s the one schedule meeting that has me on alert:
I have a two-hour lunch with Savior himself.
I’m used to having 30-minute lunches with fifteen-minute breaks. Maybe 15 minutes. Sometimes it’s not even that. This fool has me on the schedule to meet him in three hours for a two-hour lunch. Who in the hell takes two-hour lunches?
I already know the answer – people who own law firms.
I try not to freak out about the schedule. I just know I don’t have time to fuck up today. “Thank you,” I quietly reply.
“Not a problem,” he grins at me, “I’m Easton, Savior’s assistant. If you ever need anything, you contact me first.”
I watch Easton walk away and I feel his words linger in the background. He wanted me to personally contact him if I needed anything. Contact him.
Him.
Him.
Savior.
~~~~~~
Lunch time comes and I’m starving. I powered through several meetings where I listened to lawyers discussing strategy. I met with a few of them who were glad to be talking about something other than a case or a client. And I finally got a feel for what it’s like working in a legal firm.
I’ll tell you this much – it ain’t nothing like what the TV and movies have you believe. A lot of these lawyers have never seen the inside of a courtroom and the majority of the time, they settle or reach an agreement out of court. If they have to go to court, they asses are dreading it every step of the way.
I’ll worry about all of that later. I have a lunch date with Mr. Man and well, I can’t be late. I pick up my purse and slip into my mustard-yellow Adidas when I feel a presence beside me.
It’s him.
It’s weird how I know it’s him without looking up. It’s like I felt his presence before he said a word as if my body was attuned to his. “Mr. Ellison…” I slip on the last shoe and look up at him. “Hello.”
“Are you ready to go?” He asks.
The way his eyes sparkle as they meet mine tells me he might have a mischievous streak in him. Not evil or hateful. But the type of guy would put ‘Honk if you want me to suck your penis’ bumper sticker on the back of a straight dude’s car. “Yes,” I grab my purse, “let’s go.”
I walk with Savior through the law firm where various people stop him with questions. He answers them all. He doesn’t dismiss anyone and gives quick, succinct answers. I’m somehow charmed by that. He could’ve been an asshole but chose not to.
We walk down to the garage and he leads me to a Bentley convertible. Of course, it’s his. “Are you in the mood for sushi?”
Raw fish doesn’t sound appetizing to me but I also know they have other things I can eat. “Sure,” I make sure my white voice sounds cheerful and excited as if I had blonde hair and an affinity for the word like. “Sounds good.”
~~~~~~
There are sushi joints that are Mom and Pop shops and hidden in a corner you have to know what you’re looking for to find it. And there are sushi joints that specifically cater to the white and wealthy that you already know once you see the menu and don’t see any prices, your black ass can’t afford it.
I’m the latter.
Sure, I can afford the sushi if I really wanted to. Daddy always made sure I had some money no matter how much I told him I would want to do things on my own. Yet, I don’t want to do something that would…I don’t know…make me feel less black, you know? I know it’s silly to think of but I’m being one-hundred percent legit when I say that.
I know how some black people feel when they get into a different tax bracket and act like they don’t know where they come from. They are usually the first ones to complain about “them” (meaning us) and how they always complain to their white friends about how we’re acting when they don’t realize their black asses are always skating on thin ice until Becky feels threatened.
I hope to never become that.
“Have you decided what you wanted, Keisha?” Savior asks.
Something fried and dead is my thought. I hold the heavy leather-bound menu and I’m thankful Savior is the one footing this bill because I know I won’t be able to afford anything but the damn water. “I’ll have the fried tempura and miso soup.”
“And what else?” He challenges. His eyes are still on the menu.
My eyes search from side to side. I was supposed to order more? I know these slacks are already tight on me but I think this motherfucker wants me to bust out of them. “Um, I don’t know. I never really ate sushi before.”
“I’ll order for you,” he declares and closes the menu. Somehow, I think he was going to do that regardless of what my answer was. His eyes stare down at me and I feel he’s undressing me without actually doing so. Somehow, I don’t think I would mind if he did. “I wanted to talk to you privately, Keisha, and away from everyone else.”
Yep, there is no such thing as a free lunch. He brought my black ass all the way here just so he could fire me in a nice setting and I wouldn’t get all emotional. Little does he know… “Yes?”
“I heard about the fight last night with your mother. I’m sorry about that.” He replies. How would a guy like him know about a fight like that? I don’t get the vibe he frequents WorldStar Hip-Hop. “How are you feeling today?”
I shrug. My mother didn’t call to apologize but I didn’t apologize to her neither. I kept thinking if I didn’t tell her to fuck off, the fight may not have occurred. I kept wondering if I was purposely invited so she would have a storyline. “I’m used to it.”
“You shouldn’t get used to it,” his voice is deep and smooth like hot butter on a biscuit, “no one should be constantly subjected to the embarrassment of their parent.” He looks away at the window for a brief moment and I feel the air shift to a brief sadness.
He shakes his head and the emotion disappears; it’s back to business as if it never happened. “I wanted to speak to you privately about something else.” His eyes focus on mine.
“Oh?” I immediately brace myself. His tone is serious and well, it was nice hanging out with the white folk for a little bit.
The waiter comes by and takes our orders. He soon leaves and Savior returns back to the discussion. “I really like you, Keisha, and I think you have a bright future ahead of you.”
“Thank you,” my body is relieved. I honestly thought my black ass was fired.
“And I want to help you with that,” Savior reaches over and grabs my hand with his manicured one. “And I want to explore the connection we have.”
“Connection?” I ask. “I don’t understand.”
“Each time I’m around you, I get this incredible feeling. It’s like wanton lust and something primal, I can’t explain it.” His eyes are confused by the emotions he’s feeling, I guess? “I felt it when I first saw you in the interview process and I knew it was real when you bumped into me. And I want to see if it’s real or Memorex.”
“I don’t understand,” I shake my head. Is this fool asking what I think he’s asking?
“I want to fuck you, Keisha.” He said it with such a declaration, it caused a shiver within me. “Hard. Fast. Slow. All night. Quickies. In my office. At your house. Everywhere.”
Oh, he needs to calm the fuck down before he has me spread out like peanut butter. “Excuse you?”
“Is that not direct enough?” He asks. “Should I be clearer what I want to do?”
I want him to be clearer. I want him to tell me what he’s going to do with that long-ass tongue of his. He probably has a big ol’ dick, too. That type of dick that’ll touch your soul and clear your skin. “No, I get the gist of it.”
“I apologize if I come on strong but when I know what I want, I go for it.” His eyes bore into mine. “I know you’re temporarily with someone but that’s a problem I’ll solve later. I need to know if this is something you’re interested in.”
How does this motherfucker know so much about me? I’m getting stalker vibes from him that only white women find sexy in romance books. “You’re asking me to be your fuck toy. That’s sexual harassment.”
“Do you feel harassed?” He asks.
I actually feel aroused like a motherfucker but he can’t know that. “You’re so clinical and mechanical about this. Like most guys would want to get to know me, see what I’m up to? That type of stuff.”
“If you want romance and all that, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have the patience for it.” He pauses as the waiter returns with our drinks and appetizers. “If you want me to blow your back out, I can do that anytime you want.”
“In exchange for what?” The offer is enticing but I need to know exactly what I’m getting out of this. “What are you going to do for me, Savior?” I emphasize his name because I want him to know I see exactly through his bullshit.
“Whatever four-year university you want to go to, I’ll foot the bill.” He casually replies as if he’s talking about the weather, “you have potential to get out of the ‘hood and I want to see you go far.”
I feel like I’m on a very special episode of Poor Black Kids and The White People Who Love Them. Shade aside, I have to admit this is better than offering to get me some Fenty Beauty or other bullshit. I always say how I want to get out of the ‘hood but I’m not doing anything about it.
If I all I gotta do is occasionally blow the boss to do so, let me open wide. “I need to think about it.”
“Sure,” Savior flashes his panty-dropping smile, “think about it over the weekend.”
My answer is already yes and I get the feeling he knows it, too. But I will humor him and think about it.
Something tells me this arrangement won’t be as simple as either one of us thinks it will be.
After lunch, Savior drives us back to the firm. We park in his reserved space and head to our respective corners until the next round sounds off. There is a quiet buzzing between us, like a vibrator on the lowest setting, but we’re both acting like it doesn’t exist.
Well, I’m acting like it doesn’t exist. I’m not sure about him. Sure, the offer sounds enticing – be a rich white boy’s booty call and he’ll pay for my college in exchange – but I need to get real about this.
If this doesn’t work or worse yet, I catch feelings over his privileged ass, this could backfire in my damn face. I can’t risk that humiliation.
“Are you okay, Keisha?” He asks and I nod as we’re in the elevator going up to the firm. “What’s on your mind?”
“I think you’re full of shit,” I reply and I glance up at him, “so there’s that.”
Savior chuckles and I feel that vibration down to my yoni. This is going to be a long-ass work day. “Can I see you for a moment in my office?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I shrug.
We arrive at the firm and Savior makes a beeline to his office with me in tow. He passes by Easton, who quickly stands up to speak but once he sees me, he slowly sits back down as Savior holds a hand up to him saying, not now.
I walk into his office and he closes the double-glass doors behind us. The doors are this thick, frosted glass that would be impossible to see inside. I also imagine it would be impossible to hear what’s going on inside as well.
It’s my first time in Savior’s office and impressive doesn’t even begin to describe it. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing all of Los Angeles. A small private conference room was adjacent to his, as well with a bathroom.
His desk was made of oak, and looked as every bit of expensive as him. A bar was in a nearby corner that had jeweled decanters and every top shelf liquor there was.
“Have a seat, Keisha.” He instructed. “Do you want a drink?”
“No,” I politely declined. I sit down on a sofa and my body melts into it. It’s the most comfortable sofa I have ever sat on and I’m already used to this Caucasian lifestyle.
Savior removes his jacket and tie and loosens two buttons on his shirt. He turns around and I feel my breath stolen. Goddamn, he’s fucking gorgeous. His clothes are tailored to every inch of his wonderful frame.
Savior sits beside me and that small buzzing from before became louder between us. “Have you thought about what I asked earlier?”
“To suck your dick and you’ll pay for my tuition? Hardly.” I deadpan.
He chuckles and I’m forcing my legs to stay closed. “I always believe if I come with a sweetened deal already on the table, the offer to decline it would be harder.”
The man has a point. I see why he’s second in command. He knows how to broker a deal. Still, the idea of sex with him sounds so clinical and unromantic. I mean, what he’s offering me is better than the Howard Johnson but I dunno about this.
“What’s making you nervous about this?” He scoots closer to me. His arm is on the back of the sofa and my body is pressed close to his. If I try hard enough, I can feel the pulse of his heartbeat against me.
“Your deal sounds too good to be true. Plus, how do I know you’re not full of it? You see a poor black kid down on her luck and you decide to rescue her from the ghetto. She just has to suck your dick whenever you feel like it.”
“I was thinking,” he rubs a finger over my pout, “maybe you would suck my dick whenever you felt like it.”
My nipples tighten to his fingers and my body becomes more aware of what’s going on. A small dampness forms on my panties and my breathing becomes a bit more ragged.
I quickly stand up and gather my bearings. “No,” I declare as I straighten my blouse. “No.” I head to his door.
Savior beats me to it and places his hand on top of mine. My shoulders relent and I feel my will slipping away. “You’re a straight-A student, Keisha. You spend your weekends volunteering at the local food bank. I know about the recent donation you gave to Alzheimer’s research in honor of your late grandmother. You’re beautiful and bright and you deserve better.”
I hastily turn around. “How did you know about—”
Before I can finish the question, Savior sweeps his lips over mine before his anxious tongue enters inside. His tongue explores my mouth and I feel powerless against him. I also feel more aroused than ever.
I reach up and grab his hair, pulling him closer to me as I feel his hands began to wander all over my body. He plays with my nipples through the cotton fabric and slightly pinches them.
His lips trail down to my neck and back up, making me softly moan and breathe. Are we really doing this? At work? What if someone interrupts us?
“Keisha…” His low voice comes out as a cross between a moan and a plea. “…think about it.” An alarm goes off and Easton’s comes over the overhead speaker.
“Savior, your two o’clock appointment is here.”
Savior forces himself back. Almost instantly, the intensity died down and business Savior comes full circle. It’s almost as if nothing ever happened between us at all. He checks his appearance one last time in the mirror and I follow his lead.
“You have the weekend to think about this. After the weekend, I need an answer, Keisha.” He says. It’s not a request, but an order. He watches me reapply my lipstick and stops me from doing so. He takes the lipstick and carefully applies the color on my lips. “I’m giving you time to think about what happened here. I can be quite persuasive if I don’t get my way.”
“If I say no,” I carefully respond, “you’re going to fire me.”
Savior finishes applying the lip color and stares at my lips. The look he has just made my panties dampen even more. “I’m not going to fire you because you’re going to say yes.” He hands me back the lipstick. “I’m giving you the weekend so you can come up with a counteroffer. I made you a sweetened offer, now you can tailor it to your liking. Your call.”