by Tina Martin
“Keisha, I told you I was going, but you said you had plans with Daryl already.”
Keisha was too young to be dealing with memory loss, so I’m guessing she thought I wasn’t going to go to Summerfest since she wasn’t coming with me. She ought to have known better than that.
“Anyway, guess who I ran into?”
“Who?”
“Roman Beauvais and his father.”
“Oh. That must have been interesting.”
“Yeah, it was. Sean offered me a job…talking about babysitting Roman over the summer.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yep.”
“How is he going to take his son out of your class, then turn around and offer you a job? Girl, that dude got some issues.”
“He said he would pay me thirty dollars an hour for ten hours every day of the week, even on weekends.”
“Thirty dollars an hour!”
“Yep.”
“So are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know. I mean thirty dollars an hour sounds really good for a summer job as easy as babysitting. And Roman is not the problem. My only reservation is that…”
“Sean is a jerk and you don’t know if it’s worth the hassle?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” We both laughed.
“So what’cha gonna do, missy?”
“I don’t know yet,” I replied.
“Well, just give him a call…see what’s up at least.”
“Yeah, I will when I get home.”
“Alright then. Call me later to tell me all about it.”
“Okay, Keisha. Later.”
Once home, I stripped naked, preparing to take a shower. The pellets of water felt so good after a long day in the sun and on my feet. Nothing relaxes me more than a long, lukewarm shower, and while I was supposed to have been washing all my cares down the drain, all I could think about was Sean – the confrontation at school and then at his house, the weird way he studied me when I dropped the pictures off, and how he wants to hire me as a babysitter. Maybe Sean was in a bind and needed to be nice to me so I would accept the position. Or maybe Roman asked if I could be his babysitter. I don’t know, but I sure was nervous about calling him.
After my shower, I dried off, threw on some pajamas, crawled on my queen-sized bed, and laid flat on my stomach with my feet dangling in the air while I dialed his number. After a half-ring, he picked up. He must have been anticipating my call.
“Hello.”
I cleared my voice. “Hi, Mr. Beauvais.”
“Please call me Sean,” he insisted. I never realized how amazing his voice sounded on the phone before.
“Okay…Sean. If I…”
Before I could finish my sentence, he interrupted. “Before we go any further, I just want to say that it seems like we got off on the wrong foot. I said some things I shouldn’t have and I want to apologize to you for that.”
Well what do you know? Perhaps Sean isn’t so bad after all.
“I’m sorry, too.”
“Okay. Good. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, did you think about my proposal?”
Proposal. For some reason, every time I hear that word I instantly think about an engagement, a wedding planner, flower girls, bridesmaids, caterers, and most importantly, the honeymoon. Then I got to thinking about Sean proposing to me. My imagination was going wild right there on the phone. All I could think about was walking down the aisle, with him anxiously awaiting a hot and heavy wedding night.
“Monica, you there?”
“Oh…yeah, I’m here.” I blinked back in to reality. “I haven’t quite made up my mind yet, but if I decide to take you up on your offer...”
He interrupted a second time. “You will move into my home and live with me for three months until school starts back.”
“What?” That caught me way off guard. He didn’t mention anything before about me physically moving into his crib. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah, I’m serious.”
“I thought I would be watching Roman at my place.”
“No. I have three extra bedrooms and one of them has your name on it.”
Can you believe this? He is serious. He actually wants me to move into his house.
“So…what is it going to be, Monica?” he asked after a minute of idle silence.
“I’m not sure about this. I had no idea this is what you had in mind.”
“So you don’t want to do it?”
“I do, but…well….ah…why do you want me to do this for you anyway?”
“Roman wants you. I guess he knows you better than I do, right?”
“I guess so. Who usually watches him during the summer months?”
“I usually put him in a summer program, but he doesn’t want that this year.”
“Oh, I see.”
“So do you want to do it?”
I really wanted to babysit for Roman. I didn’t mind that part at all. However, it would be awkward living with a man that I didn’t know.
“Ah…uh…I don’t know about this, Sean. I’m sorry. I just don’t know.”
“So what can I do to make you say yes?”
There’s a lot you can do to make me say yes, I thought. Then I got my mind out of the gutter and back to the conversation.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
“Positive?”
“Yes. Now stop asking before I change my mind.”
“Ah’ight. Good. Can you come by my house tomorrow? You remember how to get here, right?”
“Yeah, I know how to get there. What time should I drop by?”
“Stop by anytime. I’ll be home all day. While you’re here, you can sign the contract and I’ll show you around. Sounds good?”
“Yeah.”
“Ah’ight, cool. So I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Ah’ight, Monica. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
“Okay. You, too. Bye.”
I hung up the phone not knowing what I had just done. I agreed to move in with a man that I hardly knew in order to baby sit Roman over the summer. But my strategy was simple. I would live with him for those few months and save all the money I could so that I can focus my attention on my career in photography.
I moved in his house two days later.
Chapter 7 – Drama
Sean’s house was immaculate, decked out like the houses celebrities flaunt on MTV Cribs. Walking through the front door, I noticed the glossed wooden floors right away. They were so clean, you could eat off of them. I also noticed the exquisite crystal chandelier hanging from a high ceiling over a black, twelve-chair dinette that sat on an all white rug off to the right. In the middle of the room sat a white couch and a white, leather recliner, along with a glass coffee table on an abstract beige, burgundy, and black rug. The furniture looked very sophisticated and top-of-the-line, like he’d purchased the items from Thomasville or Ashley Furniture stores. The living room and dining room were in the same huge living area, but although they were not separated by walls, I could distinctively see the differences in the two.
Exotic plants and brilliant paintings were plenty, giving the house a Caribbean feel. There was a fireplace off to the left and the mantle was filled with family photos. The family room was near the kitchen, towards the back of the living area.
The door that was visible straight through the living room led to the kitchen. I’d never seen a kitchen with so many cabinets. The cabinets were a honey oak color with black trim. The granite-top island housed a built in stove and the kitchen was big enough to fit a table for six. The kitchen was also full of high-end, stainless steel appliances. Near the back door was a staircase that led to the basement where the washer and dryer were kept. Another set of stairs led upstairs to the bedrooms.
All the walls I had seen thus far were white, but upstairs, the hallway was a roasted chestnut c
olor and the floor was carpeted in the same color. Wrought-iron wall lamps were evenly spaced on the walls, four of them on each side. Roman’s room was at the top of the stairs and to the right. Sean’s room was off to the left, a little further down the hallway.
Walking towards Sean’s bedroom, I passed a bathroom on the right, then his room followed. His room was so big, he could’ve split it to make another room if he so choose. Over his king-sized bed were three skylights, which brought in plenty of natural light with the help of the three-section, sliding French doors that lead to a private balcony. A fifty-inch flat screen TV was mounted on the wall opposite of the bed. The master bathroom had a chandelier hanging directly in the center of the room, his and her sinks, a Jacuzzi that was against the back of the room, a standup shower, and a vanity. The black and white tiled floor gave the room a glamorous feel. Just by looking around the house, I could tell Sean loved the black, white, and beige colors.
My bedroom just so happened to be upstairs across the hall from Sean’s bedroom. Coincidence? Yeah, right. My bedroom was a mini version of the master bedroom. I didn’t have a walk-in closet, but the closet I had was sufficient. My bathroom didn’t have a Jacuzzi, but the bathtub was big enough to hold at least three average size people. My room was inspired by cucumber green colors, from the carpets to the curtains and the pillows. Whoever decorated Sean’s house knew what they were doing.
Walking down the front spiral staircase that led back to the living room, there were two guest bedrooms that, from what I could see, were hardly ever used. I was hoping one of those would be my room, but Sean insisted I take the bedroom upstairs so I could be close to Roman. So he said.
I’VE ALREADY BEEN living here for two nights, but still wasn’t quite as comfortable as I had hoped to be. I’m used to going home and crashing out in my apartment, with my shoes left in the floor, my bed unmade, and a pile of dirty clothes beside a full hamper. I wasn’t junky, but being a full-time teacher and all, I didn’t have time to clean up every day. I cleaned when I could.
Sean’s house, however, was spic-and-span. He told me that I didn’t have to worry about sprucing up the place since he had a cleaning service come by every other Sunday to clean his house from top to bottom. And get this – he had a personal chef, if you can believe that, and he often had his food catered.
SEAN LEFT FOR work as he normally did every day around eight or so. He would get up every morning at five-thirty to work out for a half hour, then he spent the remaining two hours getting ready to face the world.
At times, when he left his bedroom door cracked, I could see directly into his walk-in closet that was about the same size as Roman’s bedroom. He would stand there with a towel wrapped around his bottom half with beads of water glistening on his back, while trying to decide what to wear in his collection of expensive suits and countless name-brand shoes. Once he figured out what he was going to wear for the day, he would go downstairs and have a full glass of grapefruit juice and a Nutri-Grain bar, which was his breakfast. Then he was out the door. After only being here a few days, I already had the man’s routine down pat.
I crawled out of bed around nine-thirty and peeped in Roman’s room, where he was still sleeping. So, I went to the kitchen to make us some breakfast. A little while later, Roman came down the stairs. Shortly after, the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Monica. It’s Sean,” he said, as if I didn’t know it was him. “How’s everything going?”
“It’s going good. I just made Roman some pancakes. He’s eating now.”
“You don’t have to cook. I have people for that.”
There he goes again with the “I have people for that” lingo. I wasn’t going to let the boy starve while his “people” took their sweet time showing up to cook.
“It’s no big deal. It didn’t take me long to cook ‘em and Roman likes it, so…”
He cut me off as he normally did. “Yeah, but next time, call me and I’ll get someone to come over and cook, ah’ight?”
I don’t think Sean was trying to be a show-off when he said things like that. It was just something he was accustomed to since he had money. Having people wait on him hand and foot was his way of life, but I wasn’t used to such a lavish lifestyle. I cooked my own food and cleaned my own house like normal people.
“Yeah, sure,” I replied, trying not to get irritated.
“Ah’ight. I’ll check on him again later,” he said, hanging up without so much as a bye and leaving me baffled by his casual attitude of just having other people take care of his kid.
It was about two in the afternoon when the phone rang again. It was Sean.
“What does he want now?” I asked myself, while rolling my eyes. “Helloo.”
“How is everything?” he asked again, as he did earlier when he called.
“Everything is fine, Sean.” I replied before yawning.
“Ah, okay. You said that like I’m bugging you or something.”
That’s because you are! “No, you’re not bugging me. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
I don’t know why he felt the need to call and check up on me like I was sixteen. I mean, after all, I was his son’s teacher for goodness sake. I know how to take care of kids.
“What y’all do today?”
“Played catch. Roman is taking a nap right now.”
“Oh, okay. Sounds good. Ah, listen…my brothers are coming over this afternoon. Just let them in for me, okay? I told them that you were there.”
Great. Now I have to deal with more characters. I heard his brothers were just as bad as he was when it came to females, but they weren’t rich.
“Okay. I can do that.”
“Ah’ight. Later,” he said, and there I sat listening to the dial tone again. Rude bastard.
Ignoring Sean’s idiotic no-cooking policy, I began cooking dinner anyway. And since he had family coming over, it would be perfect timing to offer them something to eat. So, I whipped up some fried chicken, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and macaroni.
As soon as I took the macaroni out of the oven, the doorbell rang. I ran to the door, opened it, and was shocked when I saw two men standing there looking almost identical to Sean. They had two little boys with them.
One of them reached out to shake my hand. “Hi, I’m Warren. This is my brother Derrick.”
Derrick spoke up next. “And these are my two boys, Dallas and Damarion.”
I remained mute, not knowing what to say to them. All I kept thinking was how much they both looked like Sean.
“By the look on your face, I take it Sean didn’t tell you that he was a triplet, huh?” Derrick said, smiling.
I noticed right away that they had some of the same mannerisms. The pitch of their voices was about the same and they had those same prominent green eyes. They must have worked out, too, but they weren’t as buff as Sean was. They weren’t identical either, though Warren looked more like Sean than Derrick did.
“Ah, no, he didn’t mention he was a triplet. Wow. This is crazy. You both look like him especially you, Warren.” I was at a loss for words and just stood there in a daze for a moment. “Excuse my manners. Come on in, guys.”
Once inside, they sat on the couch, while I sat in a recliner across from them and just stared.
“Where’s Roman?” Derrick asked me, breaking the silence.
“Oh, he’s taking a nap. Can I get you guys something to eat or drink? I made dinner. Why don’t you come in the kitchen and I’ll make a plate for you.”
They followed me in the kitchen and sat at the table while I searched the cabinets for bigger plates. Once I made their plates, Derrick and Warren sat and ate like they haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time. Dallas and Damarion went in the family room to eat the macaroni that I put on their plates.
“This is really good,” mumbled Warren after he bit into a piece of chicken.
“Yeah, this is off the hook. Sean is always ordering food,” said Derri
ck. “He doesn’t like for anyone to cook.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m just defying his authority,” I replied casually.
“So I hear you’re a teacher,” Warren said.
So Sean must have been talking about me. Wonder what else he told them about me.
“Yeah. Well I was a teacher…don’t know if I’m going back next year. I’m actually planning on changing careers.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I was thinking I could do something in photography.”
Just then, Roman came downstairs rubbing his eyes.
“Hey, honey. Are you okay?” He had a look on his face as if he didn’t get enough sleep.
“Yesss.”
“Do you want something to eat?”
“Uh huh.” Roman was still rubbing his eyes to a proper focus. “Hey, Uncle Warren. Hey, Uncle Derrick,” Roman said.
“Roman, Dallas and Damarion are in the family room,” Derrick told him after I handed Roman a plate of macaroni.
“Okay.”
Sean was home about twenty minutes later. When he walked in the kitchen and opened the door, a frown grew in his forehead.
“Did you cook this?” he asked, pointing to the food.
“Yeah, I cooked that. Would you like…”
“I thought I told you not to cook!”
Did I miss something here? Since when does cooking make someone go psycho? By his reaction, you would think I set the house on fire.
“You mean to tell me that you’re angry at me because I cooked?”
He was heated and came walking up to me like he needed to be in my face for me to hear him. “This is my house, Monica. There’s a certain way I do things around here.”
He stood there huffing and puffing like a five-year-old that just got spanked. The whole scene was just ridiculous.
“You need to back up out of my face, Sean. What on earth is wrong with you?” I couldn’t believe how he just stood there in front of me like a tyrant, like he wanted to start an argument over nothing. After all, it was just dinner, and it wasn’t necessary for him to get angry because of my nice gesture. If anything, he should’ve been thanking me.