Her imitation Fendi boots and Prada purses further punctuated her need for public adoration or hatred. Either suited her just fine.
“I’m not driving today, so you should probably get your sister to bring you. If not, I’ll pay for your cab.” Marc answered knowing what Sherise had in mind.
Clearly disappointed that she couldn’t be seen getting picked up in a shiny Mercedes, she attempted to mask her disappointment.
“Oh no, it’s cool then. I’ll just hop a cab and meet you.”
“Good, how about twelve o’clock at McCormick and Schmicks on 17th and K.”
Marc asked knowing that Sherise would agree to meet him for a plate of shit if he asked.
“Sounds like a winner to me. I’ll need to tie up a few loose ends on this side before I arrive.” Sherise added and waited for Marc to respond.
Finding her last comment comedic, Marc covered his mouth and laughed at her attempt to sound official. He knew that she was likely reading the latest issue of Sista 2 Sista, acquainting herself with the latest celebrity gossip.
“Alrighty then, I’ll see you at twelve.” Marc said as he was about to hang up.
“Bye big daddy”, Sherise decided to add her own twist to the conversation.
Again, Marc laughed and this time, noting the stinging irony. Without warning, he hung the phone up. He knew that Sherise was still on the phone but did not care.
At 11:45 am, Marc told Dora that he was leaving to go to lunch and she acted as if nothing was said to her. Choosing to remind her that he was still her employer, he doubled back and told her that she needed to get him a report of all the clients he served this year by the end of the business day. Knowing that this would at least keep her off of the phone, Marc felt satisfied that he had created the look of calculated, but careful contempt on her face.
“Oh, and I need to review all of your time cards for the last four months. Business is slowing up and I may need to trim your hours a little. So if you could have that on my desk today also, I’d greatly appreciate that.” Marc said with stern resolve.
Dora’s’ raised eyebrows let him know that she understood her place in his world. As he walked down K Street, Marc could not help but notice how clear the sky was. It reminded him of the cobalt blue Brooks Brother shirt that he wore the night he met Sherise. His smile dwindled. The vibrancy of the azure day greeted coeds rushing to their destinations. It seemed like a stark contrast for what he was about to deal with from Sherise.
She was certainly any thug’s fantasy, but for him, she was simply another sex escapade that went too far with the wrong person. From the minute he woke up and saw her lying next to him one Sunday morning, he swore off late nights at Love Nightclub.
They danced for at least six songs, and she never let any of her ghetto tendencies show. Hell, he thought that she might have been an attorney by the way she was dressed. He later found out that it was the suit that she wore to impress the caseworkers who would reinstate her food stamps. It was one of many nights that he returned home from the club with an overnight guest. Lately, he found himself wishing he could turn back time…
As the cab pulled up in front of Marc’s brownstone, Sherise perked up and sprinted to the front door. Marc paid the cab driver and the two entered his home without saying a word to each other. As soon as he locked the door, she slammed him against it, dropped to her knees and started tugging at his zipper. Startled by her ambition, Marc hesitated, not completely sure if he brought home a prostitute. Noting this, Sherise wasted no time as she carefully unzipped his charcoal Kenneth Cole slacks and slipped his gift into her mouth. His knees buckled as she devoured him hungrily and placed his hands into her wild hair. The loud and wet sounds that filled the room caused Marc’s penis to stiffen and pulse uncontrollably as Sherise greedily sucked his dick. As he was about to reach his erotic peak, she pulled away enough for him to see her mouth contort as she struggled to swallow the loads that spilled down her throat.
Invigorated by her sexual prowess, he led her to his bed upstairs for round two. He remembered how turned on he was when she saddled him and rode him until he came, all while moaning his name and growing wetter with each stroke. He couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze her ass roughly as he forced her wet pussy down onto his painfully erect tool. He still got erect when he thought of her smooth brown skin and an ass the size of cantaloupes. As he entered her from the rear, she allowed her petite hands to part both of her ass cheeks to accept the fullness of his dick. When he came for the final time, the evidence was discharged onto the thick cheeks that welcomed it and Sherise lavishly rubbed it into her skin.
He was both encouraged and cautiously apprehensive about her amazing sex skills. He wondered what ex convict boyfriend had taught her how to spread her legs so suggestively, but later decided that she was probably an undercover porno addict. She was not wild, but he could certainly tell that she was a talented woman.
The next morning he awoke to her make-up smeared face and formless hair. Instantly disgusted with his action, he reasoned that it was only one night of casual sex and that it was over. No need in dragging this poor girl into his life when he was sure that a committed relationship was the last thing he wanted. He considered keeping her as a booty call but the concept seemed too random and generic. Marc then calmed himself and enjoyed what he could remember from the previous night as his partner slept. He chuckled at his own recklessness and decided he could at least fix her breakfast for last night’s performance.
It was then that he realized that he didn’t know her name. This was interestingly humorous to Marc, reminding him of one of the porn movies in his collection with poor dialogue and an even worse plot.
When he reached over the bed to tap her, he saw the name ‘Sherise’ tattooed on her forearm with roses around it and assumed that his bedmate needed to remind herself of her name in case she forgot it. Smiling by now, Marc decided that he might even go to church after his guest left as he sat up to rise from bed.
He schemed that he would fix her breakfast and send her away by faking an important appointment that he could not miss. Satisfied with himself, Marc leapt to his feet and slipped on his silk Ralph Lauren boxers from the night before that lay on the floor next to the pile of other discarded clothing.
He froze in his tracks and was shocked into reality as his eyed the three pack of Magnums on the night stand, all three unopened. His frustration forced a scowl on his face and sealed his distaste for the woman that slept peacefully on his bed.
As Marc walked into McCormick & Schmicks, he instantly noticed Sherise among the sea of blue and gray suits in the dimly lit restaurant. Her interpretation of conservative was a low cut pale blue body top and matching mini skirt. A sudden feeling of panic overwhelmed him as he remembered that man of his business associates frequented the establishment. Scanning the door for his entrance, Sherise leapt to her feet and waved frantically when she saw him. For a moment, Marc saw her innocence and vulnerability. He saw past their sexual encounter and saw that she was just a twenty three year old woman that wanted to be loved, at any cost. As he moved toward her, her almond shaped eyes sparkled with the radiance of a star-crossed lover. Marc was a little disappointed in his inability to return a sentiment that remotely matched hers.
“Joe, you know you late, right?” That DC accent and slang was back with a vengeance. She was a pro at turning in off and on. Her voice instantly annoyed him.
“Oh, yeah, I apologize, but I couldn’t get a cab to save my
life”, Marc explained as he offered a formal hug and quickly took a
seat in the booth where Sherise was seated.
“I guess you a magician too, huh?” Sherise quizzed. “What are you talking about?” Marc asked genuinely unaware
of what she was talking about.
“You know, they see the hell out of you when you in a group
of other black people, but when you need one of them jokers to
stop, you magically disappear.”
Sherise said laughing at her own
remark.
“I guess I am a magician, because a brother couldn’t catch a
cab in Georgetown if he had Jesus walking with him.” Marc said
adding his comedic addition to the light-hearted conversation. “Yeah, they would stop for him ‘cause they think he white.
But if they knew he was a brother, that fool would be prepaying
too.” Sherise said smiling and appreciating Marc’s banter. She wondered how long it would last as his laughter tapered
off and he cleared his throat like he was about to make a business
proposal to a board of directors.
“So, have you ordered yet?” Marc asked knowing that Sherise
couldn’t resist the opportunity to order things she couldn’t
pronounce on someone else’s dime.
“Yeah, I ordered for myself some calamari to start and a
cosmopolitan.” Sherise answered trying to return Marc’s
professional tone.
Marc wondered if Sherise understood that you don’t order an
appetizer for a lunch meal, but chose not to correct her at this point.
The fact that she was drinking an alcoholic beverage gave him a
ray of hope.
“Oh, so then you already grabbed a menu?” Marc asked
knowing that she did.
“Yep, I looked over it so I could know what I wanted by the
time you got here. I got one for you too.” Sherise replied careful
not to give Marc the implication that she was there an hour early
just to make sure that they would have a good seat near the
window, in the event that any of her friends were passing by. “Thanks for the menu, but I already know what I want.” Marc
replied in a manner that suggested that he couldn’t care less about
her effort.
Almost as if cued, the waiter arrived. He was a thin, stringy
haired white man in his late twenties. Though he was properly
dressed in the uniform that the other waiters were required to wear,
he had a grungy look to him that suggested that he thought that
bathing was overrated.
“Are we ready to order?” He asked Sherise as if he had
already established a pleasant rapport with her.
Marc cringed as he thought of the type of things that Sherise
may have revealed to this man.
“I’m ready, Robbie. Are you ready, boo?” Sherise asked as
she attempted to romantically link herself to Marc.
Clearly annoyed with her, Marc allowed a brief pause to show
his contempt and nodded for Sherise to order first.
“I’ll have the grilled tilapia stuffed with crab imperial and
also, a baked potato on the side.” Sherise said, especially pleased
that she had time to review the menu and have the waiter assure her
that she pronounced it correctly prior tc’s arrival. Knowing that she had time to rehearse her order, Marc chose
to repress his growing disgust and smiled at the waiter as he
ordered the ginger broiled salmon and asparagus with lemon sauce.
As the waiter left the table, Marc could see Sherise’s growing
discomfort as she awaited his punishment for such an implication. “Look Sherise, we need to talk. I don’t think you
understand…”, Marc began but was interrupted when the waiter
returned to the table.
“I’m sorry sir, but I didn’t get your drink order.” Robbie said
as he waited for Marc’s response.
“I’ll have Absolut straight, no ice. Please.” Marc answered
knowing that he was in for a long lunch with Sherise. As soon as the waiter left the table, Sherise seized the
opportunity to speak.
“Joe, what is you mad about? ‘Cause I said boo? Puh-leeze,
that wasn’t nothing.”
Sherise said knowing that she had already irritated Marc by
the comment.
“It’s not just that, I don’t like that you insinuate that we’re
together every chance you get.” Marc said trying to control his
voice that rose naturally when he was angry.
“And how do I do that?” Sherise asked knowing that Marc had
an arsenal of answers.
“Well, for one, being rude to my assistant when she tells you
that I am not available.” Marc answered.
“You don’t like her anyway. Who cares about her old ass?
Whatever Joe. She got smart with me because I asked her a
question.” Sherise replied defensively.
“You asked her who I was with and told her that you were my
woman when she asked the nature of your call. When she told you
she couldn’t give out that information, you called her a bitch and
hung up.” Marc angrily replied as he grew irritated with the
satisfied smirk on Sherise’s face.
“Well, she don’t know me to be trying me. I don’t allow
someone like her to treat me like some scrub.” Sherise answered
waving her index finger in the air and matching it’s motions with
her neck.
The look of it infuriated Marc as he decided to be firm and
unwavering with Sherise.
“Let her know what? I mean, yes, we had sex a few times, but
that does not make you my lady. I told you, all I can offer you is
friendship. Anything outside of that, I can’t do.” Marc said as he
slammed the napkin into his lap.
“Oh, but you still fucking me, right? Aint this yo’
muthafuckin’ kid in my stomach?” Sherise said, pointing at her
stomach.
She raised her voice to add another level of embarrassment
when the waiter approached with her calamari.
“Not for long.” Marc countered when the waiter walked away. Clearly hurt by Marc’s comeback, Sherise decided not to
speak as he peered at her, brimming with anger. An uncomfortable
silence came across the two as Marc sipped his drink and watched
everyone else’s table in an effort to dissociate himself from the
company he was with.
He decided to break the silence when the entrees arrived. “So how are we going to handle this?” Marc asked in a hushed
tone.
Incensed by this, Sherise replied.
“What is there to handle? You want me to kill my kid so you
can go ride off into the sunset with one of these white bitches in
here.” Sherise’s loudness was beginning to attract attention from
other tables.
“Sherise, you know damn well that has nothing to do with it. I
am not ready to be a father, and certainly you’re not ready. You
still live with your mother.” Marc said as he thanked himself for
not mentioning the fact that they both resided in DC most notorious
housing project.
“Oh, so you better than me ‘cause you got a little change?
Niggah please! I been with niggahs with more money than yo’ trick
ass and they could fuck better than you too. You mthink you
the shit cause you light skinned, but you still a niggah.” Sherise
said as she forced a mouthful of food into her mouth.
Marc’s exasperation shrouded his face.
“Whatever you say, Sherise. Why don’t we just settle this shit
so that we can both move on? I think that would be the best thing
for the both of us.” Marc said in a dismissive tone, decidedly aloof
to Sherise’s comments.
“What the fuck ever!” Sherise replied and returne
d Marc
harshness with a condescending tone.
Marc then pulled out his checkbook to reiterate his
commitment to ending their misery.
“About how much do you think that you will need? I’ll pay for
you to stay at the Monarch while you recover.” Marc said as he
began to write the check out to Sherise for one thousand dollars. Enraged that Marc was treating their situation like a business
transaction, Sherise leapt to her feet and grabbed her imitation
Coach bag.
“I’m a ho’ now? You think you can just blow me off by
throwing your money at me? I don’t need your shit niggah. Take
your bamma ass back to Atlanta, because I can’t stand you. Fake
assed white boy!” Sherise screamed as she berated Marc and left
the restaurant.
Marc’s face was flush with irritation as the waiter brought the
bill. He promptly paid with his black card and took a deep breath as
he tore up the check that he started to write.
He had hoped that today would be the end of his
“relationship” with Sherise but knew better. As he left the
restaurant, Marc noticed that the sky was now gray and threatening. “Ironic”, Marc said as he smiled and decided to walk twelve blocks back to work.
Chapter 7 Natalie
When Natalie walked into her office on the 12th floor in the plush executive building, she was shaking. Pleased that she was able to mask her instability from her co-workers, Natalie retreated to the privacy of her own office where she could take her prescription of Wellbutrin outside of the judgmental eyes of her coworkers. She recognized her deterioration as she sobbed quietly into her cupped hands.
They were the same feelings that she experienced four years ago right before her voices started forcing her to cut herself.
Fearing her loss of control, Natalie immersed herself into her work and decided that her mental illness would have to take a back seat today because she had several clients she needed to see and it was already 2:30 pm.
A Price to Pay for Everything Page 4