Date Cute Marry Rich

by Alexis Nicole

  “Ma, what time do you have to be at the airport?” I asked. It wasn’t until the question was out of my mouth that I realized how it sounded.

  “What? You can’t wait to get rid of me?” She didn’t sound mad, though. Just sounded like she accepted it all—this was just how she and I got down. “Don’t worry. After I see your shop, it’ll be time for me to take a cab back to JFK. I don’t wanna take any chances in New York.” She paused. “You still gonna let me see your shop, right?”

  “Oh, yeah, Ma!” I said, now feeling bad for what I’d said. “It’s too early for anyone to be there, but I think you’ll like it.”

  Usually, I walked the nine blocks to work, but because my mother was here, I was going to catch a cab. But Juanita wasn’t having it. She wanted to hang with me.

  So, we walked the streets of Brooklyn as if she were a New Yorker. It took me longer than normal, but I have to admit, it was kinda good to have my mother next to me, even if we didn’t say much of anything.

  Finally at the shop, I unlocked the security gates and the door, clicked on the lights, and right away my mother gasped. “Oh, my,” she said as she held her hand against her chest.

  I hoped that was a good thing.

  Slowly, she walked through the shop, examining every station, every picture on the wall, checking out the shampoo room. I stayed up front until she came back, and I was shocked at the way I shifted from one foot to the other. Why was I nervous? I mean, I had stopped trying to get my mother’s approval a long time ago.

  When she came back to the front, her head was down and my heart dropped. She was disappointed? Oh, no! Why? I guessed I cared more than I thought.

  But then she looked up. And she smiled. “You done good, son,” she said. “This place is wonderful.”

  I grinned like a kid on Christmas. “Thanks, Ma!”

  She sat in one of the reception chairs by the window. “So, the shop is doing well?”

  “Yeah!”

  “You just came up here and did your thing, huh?”

  I nodded. “I’m living my dream, Ma.”

  “Does that include having someone special in your life?”

  For a moment, I froze. Never in my entire life had my mother asked me that.

  “Uh . . . yeah . . . actually . . . yeah . . .”

  “Why you stuttering, boy? Just get it out. You seeing someone?”

  “Yes,” I said before I sat down next to her. I had to sit. My legs were too weak for me to keep standing. “Yes, Ma. I’m seeing somebody.”

  My mother nodded a little. “You like this . . . guy?”

  It was my turn to nod. “Yeah, I do.”

  She paused for a moment. “Well, don’t keep me waiting. Tell me about him. What’s his name?”

  “Antonio!” I said. And then I went on to tell my mother everything about the man I fell in love with, from the art show to the dinner we had last night. I told my mother everything.

  She sat there, listening, nodding, and sometimes even smiling. It was the most time I’d spent talking to my mother since she’d helped me with my fourth grade science project.

  Once I finished, I had to sit back and take a deep breath. I had never used so many words at one time, and that was saying a lot since I loved to talk.

  For a long time, my mother didn’t say anything. And then, “Well, that’s all nice, dear.”

  That’s it? That’s all she had for me?

  “Okay,” she said as she stood up. “How am I going to get a cab to take me back to the airport? Do I have to call one?”

  “No.” I shook my head, still a little stunned that that was all she had for me. “We can just go right outside, and one will pass by. It’ll take a little longer than being in the city, but we’ll be all right.”

  I helped my mother gather her things, then helped her step through the door. Once again, I had that feeling of being sad and happy at the same time. I was so happy that my mom had finally asked something about me, something meaningful. But sad because it didn’t seem to affect her. She didn’t have a word to say about it.

  God was on my side with this, though, because we weren’t outside for five minutes before I hailed a cab.

  “Take her to JFK,” I told the driver as I gave him a fifty-dollar bill.

  “You don’t have to do that,” my mother said.

  “I know, but I want to.”

  My mother and I stood there for more silent seconds as the traffic on Atlantic Avenue began to thicken with the morning rush hour. Finally, my mom reached up and hugged me.

  “Thank you for coming,” was all that I could think of to say.

  She nodded and pulled away. She turned toward the cab, but then, a second later, came back to me. “I’m really happy for you, Devin. Really so very happy. And proud.” She kissed my cheek before she slid into the car. And just as the driver pulled away from the curb, she said, “Tell Antonio I said hello and I can’t wait to meet him.”

  She waved and I did the same. But I just stayed there, right in that spot for a minute, because I had to stay still so that I could figure out if that had all really happened or if it was just a dream.

  Finally I smiled. I couldn’t wait to call Antonio and tell him that my mother wanted to meet him!

  Chapter 22

  Chyanne

  Work had turned into a sport. I was doing more ducking and dodging than handling my cases. It was working, though. A week had passed, and Malcolm hadn’t been able to corner me . . . not that he hadn’t tried. But my assistant had been put on high alert, to let me know whenever Malcolm was near, so that by the time he got to my office, I was already pretending to be on a very important call.

  Even in the meetings he called to discuss my cases, I made sure that we were never alone. Someone was in the room with me at all times, and when Malcolm asked for me to stay afterward, I always told him that I had somewhere else to be. Then, with a glare, I dared him to pull rank. Because if he would have in any way demanded that I stay behind and talk to him, I would’ve blown up his spot.

  I had to give it to Malcolm—he kept trying to get at me. He was still calling me at home, still trying to corner me in the office. But I was smarter than he was—at least when it came to hiding from him. When it came to lying, he was still the champion.

  But while I seemed to have my interactions with Malcolm under control, the rest of my life was still in complete chaos. I didn’t have any idea what I was going to do—not that I could afford to take my time making a decision. If I was going to have an abortion, I needed to do it now. But I kept using the excuse of this case I was working on: I couldn’t afford to take any more time off, couldn’t afford any more distractions. This case was in a month, and I had at least that much time to decide if I was really going to go through with an abortion, since I would still be in my first trimester.

  Skye kept telling me that I shouldn’t wait, that I had to make the decision, that I couldn’t keep putting it off. But she just didn’t understand that this decision was not one that could be made in a vacuum. There were so many other parts, like did I want to tell Malcolm first? And if I told him, was I prepared for his reaction? Whatever it was? What about the firm? Did I want to keep working here now that I knew Malcolm was married? How many times would I have to see him and his wife together?

  There were just too many questions—that was why I wanted to push them all aside.

  And that was why this trademark dispute was a good case for me right now. Because the larger team and the more complicated case kept me busy and away from my thoughts—and away from Malcolm.

  The papers were piled high on my desk, even though one of my team members, Lacy, had already sorted through the cases. These were just the ones that she wanted me to be familiar with when our case began.

  I was so engrossed in the paperwork that I didn’t even hear my office door open, then close. But a second later I felt him, and my heart began to beat faster even before I looked up.

  I knew it was Malcolm . .
. and I was right.

  I didn’t know how he got past my assistant, but whichever way he did it, she was going to be so fired.

  “She’s not at her desk,” Malcolm said, as if he read my mind. “I guess she went to lunch.”

  Well, if that was what she’d done, I was going to make sure that she never had a lunch break again!

  Malcolm stayed way on the other side of my office, still by the door—as if he was scared to come any closer. Good! He was afraid. He needed to be.

  “I just want to know . . .” Malcolm’s voice was so soft, I had to lean forward to hear him better. Not that I really wanted to hear the lies that I was sure were going to come out of his mouth. “I just want to know,” he began again, “why you haven’t answered or returned any of my calls?”

  Was he kidding me? Did he want me to talk to him? About what?

  Well, I didn’t want to talk all those times he called, and I certainly didn’t want to talk now. So, I said nothing and just stared him down. Which seemed to make Malcolm uncomfortable, because he shifted from one leg to the other.

  Good! He needed to be uncomfortable. He needed to be so uncomfortable that he marched his behind right out of my office. But for some reason he stayed, like he was determined to have his say.

  I sighed. Maybe I needed to just let him talk so that we could once and for all get this over with.

  He said, “I know I should have told you about my wife.”

  I leaned back in my chair and laughed because that was the funniest thing I’d heard all year. “You think?”

  “And I want to thank you.” I frowned when he said that. He kept on. “Thank you for not saying anything to her at the gala.”

  The little bit of a smile that I had went away, and all I wanted to do was to jump over my desk and wrap my hands around his neck! With everything I’d had to deal with—the humiliation of meeting his wife in a public forum, not to mention carrying his baby, which he knew nothing about—those were the first words he had for me?

  I shook my head. Now I was mad, but it was my own damn fault. This was the man I’d fallen in love with.

  “So, you want to thank me?” I said, finally standing up. “After the way you humiliated me, you want to thank me?”

  “Chyanne,” he said, coming a step closer. “You never let me explain. You’ve got to listen to me.”

  I didn’t know if it was because a week had passed or if it was because he was already in my office, but I decided that it was time to hear something. So, I motioned with my hands for him to speak.

  Malcolm released a breath, as if he was relieved. “When I met you,” he began, “my wife and I were separated, headed for divorce. I had already moved out. That’s the condo that you’ve been to.”

  “Well, something must’ve changed,” I said in a tone that was meant to let him know that I was not impressed with what he’d said so far.

  Malcolm said, “But my wife pleaded with me to come back. And she wore me down, and wore me down.” He paused as if the next words were hard to say. “Finally, I went back home so that we could work it out.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “About four months ago.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “And, you never felt the need to tell me any of this?” I asked incredulously.

  “I wanted to. Believe me, I did. I didn’t want anything but the truth between us. But I was always afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of losing you. I never had the courage because my feelings for you were so real. I didn’t have enough inside of me to tell you, but I didn’t have enough inside of me to let you go.”

  His words, his tone, were so earnest, I began to melt. But then I caught myself and remembered the truth of what was going on here. Malcolm—the man who stood in front of me, the man whom I’d called my boyfriend for a year—was married! There were no excuses for that, not in my world. I wasn’t raised this way, and I wasn’t going to go out this way. I wasn’t going to be anyone’s mistress.

  “Chyanne . . .” I held up my hand to stop him, but he kept talking. He said, “I never meant to hurt you.”

  Yeah, right! Well, I wanted to hurt him, and I knew the exact way to do it. If I told him about this baby, his baby, he’d be worried and hurt the same way I was.

  But something held me back—I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was the lawyer’s instinct inside of me that said that I didn’t want to throw that out there without knowing what his reaction would be.

  So I kept quiet. But I crossed my arms and started tapping my feet, letting Malcolm know that I was getting bored with this conversation.

  “Is there any chance, any way . . .”

  What was he asking me? “No!” I said to whatever he was thinking.

  He stared at me for a moment, then nodded, as if he finally believed me. “I’m so sorry, Chyanne. I never meant to hurt you, and from the bottom of my heart, I do love you.”

  His words were like an arrow that hit my heart. But I wasn’t about to let him see that. So, I just stood there, with the same stance and the same face.

  Malcolm turned toward the door, and before he opened it, he glanced over his shoulder, as if he needed to get one last look at me. As if he knew this would be the last time we’d ever be together this way.

  But I didn’t move.

  It wasn’t until he walked out that I plopped down in my chair. I could feel the tears trying to press forward. But I had promised myself that I wasn’t going to shed another tear. Crying was over.

  But one thing that Malcolm’s visit did do was convince me that it was time to move into action. Maybe I didn’t want to wait until after this case. Maybe Skye was right, and it was time to come up with a definitive plan . . . now!

  Chapter 23

  Skye

  It had been four days of anticipation. Four days of wondering if I’d done the right thing by making that call. Four days of wondering what was going to happen with Trent and four days of wondering what had happened with Noah.

  Even though I was trying to move on, I couldn’t get Noah out of my mind. I couldn’t figure out where I’d gone wrong or what had gone wrong. No one would have been able to convince me that Noah wasn’t into me as much as I was into him. But it was clear that I had no idea what was going on. Which made me have serious doubts about Trent. With my track record, did I really want to keep doing this dating thing?

  Admittedly, I’d called Trent only because I’d been so hurt by Noah. But then he had charmed me right away when he picked up the phone.

  “Skye?”

  I frowned. “How did you know it was me?” I asked. I’d never called his number before.

  He chuckled. “I told you that you’d made an impression on me, and once I was able to track you down at work, I was able to get your cell number as well.” He paused. “I have connections, but you don’t have to worry. I’m not a stalker. I’m nothing but a complete gentleman.”

  It was only because I’d been so hurt by Noah that I even continued talking to this man. But a few minutes later I was glad that I did. He was charming and he was gentle. It had only been the day before when I told him that I was involved with someone, but even though I’d stated that fact, he didn’t ask me any questions—trying to protect my feelings, I’m sure. And, I’m glad he did, because if he had asked me anything about why I was calling or what had happened to my man, I would’ve probably burst right into tears.

  But he had kept me on the phone and, even after a few minutes, had me chuckling about how we’d met.

  “You know you bumped into me,” he joked. “You took one look at me from behind and bam! Just admit it.”

  It was only because I laughed that I agreed to keep Sunday totally free for our first date.

  “I’ll send a car for you,” he said. “Remember, keep the whole day free.”

  And that was the last time I’d spoken to him—in four days. So, as you can imagine, I was ready to see what this man was all about.

 
; I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup when my apartment intercom buzzed.

  “Ms. Davenport,” a man said, “I’m here for Trent Hamilton.”

  After telling him that I’d be right down, I grabbed my purse, took one last glance in the mirror, then hurried out the door. Just like Trent had promised, a car was waiting for me—a limousine, to be more specific. The driver tipped his hat exactly the way they did in the movies, then held the door open for me.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked the moment the car edged away from the curb.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Davenport. I’ve been instructed not to say anything, except to tell you that you will not be disappointed.”

  Okay. I couldn’t imagine what Trent had planned for the day. He’d told me to dress casually, and I knew I looked good, kind of preppy, in my jeans, T-shirt, and navy blazer, which I wore just in case we were going someplace where I needed long sleeves.

  I was still trying to stay positive about this date, but I couldn’t say that I was feeling great about it. My heart was still with Noah, and because of that, I knew I shouldn’t be going out with anyone right now. But I consoled myself by thinking that this wasn’t really a date—Trent and I would just be kicking it. So there would be no harm, no foul!

  When the car slowed down as we approached the South Street Seaport, I peeked through the window. And there was Trent, waiting for me. The extra moments that it took for the car to stop gave me a chance to check him out. I had to admit he looked great in his jeans, starched white shirt, and a sweater tied around his neck. I glanced down at my outfit. Without knowing it, we’d dressed almost exactly alike. Did that mean something?

  But all thoughts of what we were wearing went away when Trent held my hand as he helped me out of the car, hugged me, and then thanked me for joining him. He was still holding my hand as we maneuvered through the Sunday crowd and walked onto the pier. We were a few steps away from the end when I saw it, a yacht, with THE HAMILTON written across the side.

  My mouth opened wide. A yacht. I had never been this up close and personal with a yacht.