When Simone got home, she jumped in the bed and buried her face in her pillow. She replayed everything Danny had said to her since their first encounter in her mind. How could he say all those things to me and then act like he doesn’t even give a shit about me and ignore my calls like I’m some annoying groupie that’s stalking him? Simone asked herself.

  After a few minutes, she became furious and built up the nerve to call Danny. She was going to ask him how could he do that to her. He was supposed to take her to the prom; she was supposed to be prom queen, the one in the picture with him that everyone around school was talking about. She thought he wanted her to be his girl; what happened to him not letting her slip away?

  But when Danny picked up the phone, all Simone could say was, “How could you go to the prom with her? You said you were taking me.”

  “She’s my fucking girl! Bitch, stop stalking me!” Danny shouted and then slammed down the phone.

  Simone fell back down on her bed and cried.

  A few weeks later, when Simone thought she was finally ready to put Danny behind her, she found out that what she had been buying tubes of yeast infection cream to treat, and what was so irritating that it had forced her to take a trip to the free clinic, was an STD. She was so pissed off that what she had kept secret from Stefan out of fear of ridicule she blurted out in front of Crystal, Jewel, and Paris as soon as she returned home from picking up her prescription at the pharmacy. She bent down and laid her head on Stefan’s knee and cried.

  “He did what?” Stefan shouted. “Oh, somebody’s getting fucked up tonight.”

  Stefan stormed out of the house with his crew behind him. About thirty minutes later, the phone started ringing off of the hook. Simone looked at the caller ID and it displayed Danny’s number across the screen.

  “Hello,” Simone answered.

  “Let me speak to your grandmother!” Danny’s mother yelled.

  “She ain’t here,” Simone replied before hanging up the phone.

  Danny’s mother called right back.

  “What?” Simone yelled into the phone.

  “Little girl, put your grandmother on the phone,” Danny’s mother said.

  Simone sucked her teeth. “I said, she ain’t here.”

  “Child, you better stop playing games with me,” Danny’s mother said. “I know you sent them goddamn punks over here to fight my son. If you don’t put your grandmother on this phone, I’m sending the police over there.”

  “Then send them, bitch!” Simone yelled and then slammed down the phone.

  Simone walked into the living room and plopped down on the sofa, ignoring the sound of the phone ringing. She wondered what kind of damage the four of them had done to Danny.

  Simone heard the door unlock and Stefan walked in with his crew behind him. All of them had bloodstains on their shirts, Paris’s eye was puffy, and Stefan’s shirt was torn.

  “What happened?” Simone asked.

  “What you think happened? We went ’round that nigga’s house and whipped his ass,” Stefan said.

  “And you lucky I fucks with you,” Paris added. “That nigga can throw and you know I bruise easily.”

  “Who keeps ringing the phone like that?” Stefan asked.

  “That’s Danny’s mama,” Simone said. “She’s called damn near twenty times, asking for Grandma.”

  Stefan stomped in the kitchen and snatched the phone off of the base. “She’s dead, bitch!” he shouted into the phone. “And don’t call here no fucking more before I send somebody over there to whip your ass.”

  Despite Danny’s run-in with Stefan and his crew, he still went on to do big things.

  He attended Virginia Tech that fall and he became their starting point guard. He was all over the television during basketball season. Everywhere Simone went, Danny seemed to be the topic of conversation. Did you see Danny play last night? I heard him and Tanya got engaged. That kid is doing big things. Yeah, that boy is going to the pros. And her, she was still living at her grandma’s house, hustling her body for money, and falling victim to every immature impulse Stefan and she had. Life wasn’t in her favor because if it were, she would’ve been the one who’d gone to college. It would’ve been her clothing ads that everyone was admiring when they opened their favorite magazines. She would be engaged to some handsome guy and about to settle down and start a family. It wasn’t fair.

  12

  Simone’s eyes wandered nervously around the restaurant, following the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses as she waited for the waitress to bring their order to the table; she was sure their conversation would cease at that point.

  “So what do you like to do?” Wayne asked.

  “What most people like doing,” Simone said. “I enjoy shopping, going out, being in the company of those I like. I’m not hard to please.”

  Wayne smiled. “It didn’t seem that way earlier.”

  “You have to get to know me.”

  “I can’t believe you don’t have a man,” Wayne said. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing without a man?”

  “I never said that I didn’t have one.”

  Wayne rubbed Simone’s hand. “Well, do you?”

  Simone slid her hand away. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t; between school and work, I don’t have time.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “Wachovia.”

  “You’re a teller?”

  Simone looked away. She wasn’t able to look Wayne in his eyes while she lied to him. “Naw, I’m the Branch Manager.”

  “Oh, you look too young to have a job like that. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “Sounds like you’re doing good for yourself, ma.”

  “How old are you?”

  Wayne looked at Simone and grinned. “How old do I look?”

  Simone shrugged. “I don’t know, like you could be in your late-twenties or early-thirties.”

  “I’m twenty-six.”

  Simone giggled. “Okay, so I guessed right.” Lying bastard, Simone thought to herself. “Do you have any kids?”

  “Just one.”

  “Oh, is it a boy or girl?”

  “A boy; he’s a junior.”

  “Are you and his mother still together?”

  Wayne laughed. “If we were, I wouldn’t be here with you.”

  Simone thought about all of the lies that Wayne had spoken. “I’m not sure if I believe that one.”

  “Let me ask you something, ma; why are you so disagreeable?”

  “It’s a habit.”

  “Well, you need to break it or a lot of good things are going to pass you by.”

  “I appreciate your concern but let me worry about that,” Simone said. “Now back to what I was saying.”

  “Naw, back to you,” Wayne interrupted. “What are you taking up in school?”

  Simone looked up like she was waiting for the answer to fall from the sky. “Fashion design.”

  “That’s good. What year are you?”

  “I’m a sophomore.”

  The waitress placed their plates in front of them and scurried away. Simone sighed. Now Wayne could stuff his mouth with food and finally shut up.

  “So you design clothes, huh?”

  Simone nodded as she took a bite of her food. She was in disbelief about how many lies she’d told since she’d been there and Wayne’s questioning kept them rolling from her mouth. But she figured, what the hell? It wasn’t like his mouth had been a prayer book.

  “Can I get you to design something for me?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know; I want to see if you have skills. What do you think will look good on me?”

  Simone smiled. “You’re already wearing it.”

  “What? This,” Wayne asked, tugging on his shirt.

  “Naw, what’s underneath it; the wife beater, boxers, and oh, you can keep on the Air Force.”

  Wayne grinned. “Oh, is that right? You know how I’d like to see you?”

  “How?”

  Wayne leaned forward and looked into Simone’s eyes. “Bent over the bed in my hotel room, soaked in Dom Perignon, swarming around while I tickle your clit with my tongue.”

  The thought aroused Simone but she refused to give in. “Yeah, you and every other guy I run across.”

  “Do any of them luck up?”

  “Let’s just say you won’t.”

  Wayne nodded his head. “It’s all good; I can respect that.”

  Simone rolled her eyes. “Good, ’cause you really don’t have a choice.”

  Paris sat on the couch, eating out of a half-gallon container of chocolate chip ice cream while he watched TV. He was already feeling better about the incident with Michael; he hoped that by the time his spoon reached the bottom of the container, he’d feel like himself again. Paris was interrupted by a knock at the door. He peered through the peephole in his door and saw Michael standing outside.

  He’s crazy if he thinks I’m opening the door for his ass, Paris thought. Paris sat back down on the couch and finished eating his ice cream.

  Michael banged on the door. “Paris, open this door. I know you’re in there.”

  Paris turned up the TV to drown out the sound of Michael’s voice.

  “I know what you did to my apartment. If you don’t open this door, I’m calling the police.”

  Paris sucked his teeth at Michael’s comment and continued to watch TV.

  “Awright, be like that. I’ve got something for your ass,” Michael said before leaving.

  It had been two hours since Michael had left. Paris was glad that he hadn’t returned. He cut off his TV and prepared to go to sleep. Paris heard a fist pounding on his door. He peered through his peephole and saw Michael on the porch with two police officers.

  And I thought he was bluffing, Paris thought.

  Paris opened the door. “Can I help you?”

  “That’s him; that’s the guy who broke into my apartment and damaged my furniture.”

  The police officer held up his hand to silence Michael. “I’m Officer Bradley; this man says you broke into his apartment and damaged some of his belongings. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No, officer,” Paris answered.

  “Well, we have a witness that said they saw you running out of the house,” Officer Bradley said.

  “Ain’t nobody see me running out no house,” Paris said.

  “This is a little boy; he’d have no reason to lie on you,” Officer Bradley said.

  “A little boy? Every man in a dress probably looks the same to him. And who knows how many be running out of his apartment?” Paris pointed to Michael.

  “That’s a lie!” Michael exclaimed. “That’s why he did that shit, ’cause he’s mad at me for putting him in his place. I told him that I don’t mess around with no boys, to go on about his business and to stop stalking me. That’s what’s behind all this mess.”

  “Put me in my place?” Paris snapped. “Officer, if he put me in my place, it must’ve been in the bed beside him; it’s hard to stalk somebody who spends most of their time lying on top of you.”

  Michael charged Paris and the two officers wrestled him down to the ground.

  “I think we’re done here,” Officer Bradley said.

  “Well, good night, officers,” Paris said, before sticking his tongue out at Michael and going back into the house.

  “Ahhh,” Simone moaned as Wayne forced her down on his robust chocolate dick. She couldn’t believe she had given in so easily after giving him such a hard time at the restaurant.

  Simone wanted to stake her claim to Wayne. She had to have him. He had money and he was gorgeous; not to mention that he was somewhat in the limelight. She was willing to do whatever she had to do to convince Wayne to make her his woman. But she didn’t want to seem easy. Men loved beautiful women who were easy, but the reality was, no matter how much money they spent on those type of women, or how often they liked to be in their company, they usually didn’t make them their woman. Easy women were fads; here today, gone tomorrow. That’s why she couldn’t understand, for the life of her, how she’d managed to let Wayne persuade her into accompanying him to his hotel room and why, after a few minutes of pillow talk, she was straddled on top of him with her back toward him, her sweaty ass shining in his face while he grabbed her around her waist, forcing her down on his dick as hard as he could. She didn’t want to deny him. If she did, he’d set his sights on another and she might not be given the opportunity to be with him again. If she broke him off right, he wouldn’t be able to get enough of her and every time he came back for more, she’d have the chance to ease her way into his life.

  After Wayne reached his climax, he gave Simone a long gentle kiss, despite the acts she’d performed on him with her mouth. Simone smiled. Wayne’s kiss confirmed that she’d have no problem making him her man.

  13

  A month had passed. Simone and Stefan had started their jobs at the bank. Stefan excelled at his job. He never forgot to greet a customer and he was always polite, no matter how rude the customers were. He did nothing but work the entire time that he was there. He hardly ever took his fifteen-minute breaks; if he did, he took them to meet a customer outside that he was trying to get on board as one of his clients.

  Simone hated working at the bank. Her shift couldn’t go by fast enough for her. She hated the snotty-ass customers who came to her station acting like she owed them something other than the money they were withdrawing from their accounts. She hated the way that her supervisor pranced her hefty ass back and forth past her station, watching her every move. Most of all, Simone hated the Saturday mornings she had to spend there, looking in the customers’ faces. She spent most of her time at work exchanging text messages with Wayne. When their messages became erotic, she put the closed sign in front of her station and went to the restroom where she would position herself on the floor in the stall and fondle herself while she snapped pictures with her phone. She’d send the pictures to Wayne and wait for him to send one back. Simone had been written up twice for her behavior. She didn’t give a shit. As soon as her manager walked away, Simone tore up her disciplinary slip and threw it in the trash. She hoped the next time that her supervisor decided to write her up, she’d rethink it and fire her instead. She didn’t want to quit. Stefan would be pissed and she would never be able to live it down. So she hung in there. In her mind, she had bigger plans.

  Everything seemed to be going well between her and Wayne. Based on what she’d learned from her Internet search and their conversations, he had more than enough money to take care of the both of them. So if things went her way, there wouldn’t be a need to lag behind Stefan to work, so-called planning for her future. Nor would there be a need to sex every clean-cut paycheck that crossed her path. Hell, the thought of it made her lazy. She went from servicing two clients a day to three clients a week and sometimes she would cancel. Instead of sitting at the kitchen table sketching designs when she got some downtime, she was sitting in front of the television talking to Wayne on the phone and that’s if she wasn’t somewhere laid up with him or sitting between his legs sipping Dom Perignon.

  Simone was in love with the thought of being Wayne’s lady. She would sit around and muse about sitting ringside at one of his fights. She could see herself on his arm after his fights as the reporters rushed him for his comments and the cameras zoomed in on them. She could picture everybody in town sitting at home watching in awe, and Danny eating his heart out, wishing he could trade places with Wayne. As far as she was concerned, Wayne was the best thing she had going for her. He was her future and she wasn’t about to put him on hold for anyone or anything; not Stefan, a client, her sketches, and damn sure not her job.

  Simone lay back in her seat with her arms resting above her head. She hummed the song that played on the radio while Stefan sat behind the wheel. The two were on their way to Ashland, Virginia, to meet Chris, a new client they’d met at work the week before, and his friend, Marvin.

  Stefan was proud of all the new clients that he’d met at the bank.

  Simone wasn’t the least bit enthused; especially when it came to Chris. They had met with Chris the week before and the man was weird. He had a sly smile like a pedophile and his eyes appeared empty like his body wasn’t occupied. He had some of the craziest requests Simone had ever heard.

  Chris wanted her to penetrate him with a vibrator while he penetrated Stefan. Simone didn’t get it. Stefan was the one with the dick; why couldn’t he penetrate Chris while Chris penetrated her? The whole experience rubbed her the wrong way. Not to mention that being in Chris’s presence made her stomach turn. Simone expressed her feelings about Chris to Stefan and told him that she wanted to cross Chris off of their list of clients.

  Stefan assured her that there was nothing to worry about; that nothing was wrong with Chris. He told her that she was paranoid and lazy. She wasn’t used to playing the back, that was his position, and now that she realized how demanding it was, she didn’t want any parts of it. She accepted Stefan’s judgment and decided to ignore the gut-wrenching feeling that she felt whenever she got a mental image of Chris’s face. She ignored the little voice in her head that whispered to her at every stoplight, telling her to admit to Stefan that she wanted out; to turn the car around and take her the fuck home.

  Stefan grinned as he listened to Simone humming the song playing on the radio. “Damn, that nigga got you humming love songs. He must have some bumbiggiddy.”

  Simone giggled. “He sure does; he be tearing it up, from the front, from the back, and in the rear.”

  “Damn,” Stefan said, snapping his friends. “I should’ve made that nigga mine.”

  Simone looked at Stefan and rolled her eyes. “Please, he wouldn’t have your ass.”

 

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