What We Won't do for Love (Love, Lies & Lust Series)

by Mz. Robinson

  In less than sixty seconds, she had completely twisted my words around. I decided Elena was a straight-up bitch. “I’m not relying on the fact that I’m a sistah,” I said with attitude, professionalism out the door at this point.

  “So maybe it’s your looks you plan to use,” she said, looking from my head down to my open-toed pumps. “I’ve seen your kind time and time again. The skirts that always seem to ease up during meetings and those low-cut shirts that accidentally fall open like some Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction.” Crossing her arms across her saggy breasts, she sucked on her teeth. “We don’t need nor will we allow that here at G&L.”

  I had chosen to wear my two-piece Calvin Klein suit because it hugged my body in all the right places, and the above-the-knee skirt accentuated my runway model legs. I looked good and like every other normal woman in the world, I felt good when I looked good. It was never my intent to use my body, my face, or my skin tone to land that internship with G&L. However, the ugly face of disapproval Elena was giving me told me she had taken my appearance out of context. “Ms. Toney, I don’t have to use my body or my face to get ahead,” I said. “Those are just added bonuses I was blessed with.”

  Her thick, unkempt eyebrows shot up in an arch.

  “I am intelligent, educated, and I can do this job better than any of those tight-ass applicants waiting to speak with you. If you’re not gonna give me a real chance to prove myself just because of my looks, then I suggest that you step your own appearance and your game up.” I crossed my legs, causing my skirt to inch up my thighs. “It’s obvious to me that my credentials are not the problem, but my sex appeal is.” “Don’t let your smart mouth screw up a good opportunity!” My mother’s words suddenly echoed in my head, but it was too late. I knew before I closed my mouth that I had fucked up with Elena. I watched as she took the application package with my name on it and tossed it to the corner of her desk like yesterday’s garbage.

  “Miss Turner, we wish you the best in your endeavors, however, your time here is up,” she said coldly.

  I sat still for a moment, debating as to whether or not to try and redeem myself.

  “Goodbye!” she snapped, staring at me.

  I decided attempting to kiss the woman’s fat ass was not an option. I was halfway out the door, when she called my name.

  “Oh and Asia…” she said dryly.

  “Yes?” I asked calmly.

  “Don’t bother with applying here again,” she said firmly.

  I slammed the door closed behind me. Hating-ass bitch! I thought to myself as I walked through the crowded hallway to the elevator.

  As I stood waiting for the elevator, a tall, distinguished gentleman walked up and stood beside me. He was slightly older than me, with skin the color of lightly toasted almonds and low-cut hair that was embedded with waves. He was attractive, but at that moment I gave two shits about his looks; I was still fuming about my run-in with Elena.

  “Hi. How you doin’?” he spoke as we both watched the numbers on the top of the elevator light up.

  “Not good!” I said with attitude.

  “What’s the problem?” he asked as the elevator doors dinged open.

  “Nothing you can do anything about,” I snapped, remembering all the extra preparation and time I put in just to work for G&L.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Miss…”

  “Turner,” I said flatly

  “Miss Turner,” he continued, “I’m somewhat of a problem-solver here at G&L. Excuse me for being rude,” he said, extending his hand to me. “My name is Parker Bryant.”

  The mention of his name caught me totally off guard. I had done enough research on G&L to know that Parker Bryant was the CEO. The elevator was almost to the first floor, and I knew I had to act fast if I wanted to get my foot in the door. “Mr. Bryant, please forgive my not-so-pleasant attitude. I was just denied a chance to be a part of this prestigious firm because of my looks,” I spat, discreetly telling on Elena.

  “You were denied a chance to work for us because of your looks?” he repeated with a puzzled look on his face.

  Seeing that I had his attention, I laid it on thick. “Yes. None of my credentials or references were even considered. I have worked hard for this position. I so much wanted to be a part of G &L,” I said softly as my eyes watered.

  “There has to be an explanation,” he said. “I assure you we have a strict policy on discrimination. It’s not tolerated here in any way, shape, or form.”

  “That may be your policy, Mr. Bryant,” I sniffled, “but it was not Ms. Toney’s.”

  “Elena Toney?” He frowned.

  “Yes. She interviewed me,” I whispered sadly. Damn right I snitched on her ass! “I am so devastated right now,” I said, squeezing a tear from my eye as the elevator doors opened.

  “Miss Turner, I have to go. I apologize, but I’m already late for a very important meeting,” he said, reaching inside his jacket pocket. “However, I want you to give me a call tomorrow so we can fix this problem.” He handed me his business card and hurried out the building front doors into a waiting black and silver Maybach.

  Chapter 2

  “Girl, I ‘bout reached across the desk and slapped the hell out of that ho!” I said as I rolled my eyes while I told my best friend, Tracy Jenkins, about my interview from hell. I paused as she navigated her brand new BMW Z-8 out into the heavy rush hour traffic. I didn’t want to disrupt her concentration, but no sooner had she made the hairpin turn at one of the busiest intersections in the city than I resumed my story.

  Tracy and I had been best friends since our freshman year at Howard. We had both spent extensive hours studying and researching the marketing industry, but after the first year of relentless schooling, Tracy had quit and taken up real estate. That move had changed her life dramatically because within a few years, she had managed to secure the two biggest licenses of her life. One was her real estate license, and the other was a marriage license. As luck would have it, Tracy ended up hooking Harold Jenkins, one of the biggest real estate brokers in the city. Following a very brief engagement and subsequent marriage, Tracy happily discovered that she didn’t have to sell one single house for her big payday; her husband supplied her every need.

  “Oh no she didn’t!” Tracey laughed as she pulled her Chanel shades over her eyes. “You’re telling me that bitch tried to get grand on my girl, the diva?” Tracy smiled.

  “Hell yeah she did!” I exclaimed. “Hating on me because her ass is jacked up.”

  “She didn’t get the memo, A,” Tracey said, sucking on her teeth. “We were born beautiful. I know it ain’t, fair but it’s real. The world will be a much better place as soon as these broads learn and memorize that shit.”

  It wasn’t that my best friend was cocky; she was just confident, and with good reason. At five-six, Tracey had a brown complexion and slanted dark brown eyes. Both of her parents were Black, but considering her eyes, thin lips, and narrow nose, Tracey looked like she could have been of Japanese descent. Much like myself, she had run into her share of haters based solely upon her good looks.

  After twenty more minutes of discussing my ordeal at G&L, I changed the subject just as we were pulling up into my apartment complex.

  As always, Tracy groaned wearily “Girl, you need to hurry up and get up out of this bullshit. Your ass way too classy to be living like this,” Tracy grunted as she weaved her way around several gigantic potholes in the street. “Tearin’ my damn car up.”

  Slightly embarrassed, I casually made light of my situation. “I’ll be out of here in due time.”

  “You’re way past due, if you ask me.” Tracy studied me like I was a question on a college prep exam. “I don’t like to see you living like this. There is a great big world out there, and here you are stuck up in this hellhole like some—”

  “Crack-head ho?”

  “You said it,” Tracy reminded me. “I didn’t.”

  “Girl, I got to get that job at G&L. That’s
my damn ticket up outta here.”

  “Well, the sooner you cash in on that ticket the better,” Tracey said, shaking her head. “Hell, if Harold didn’t have his house rules, you could come stay with us until you get on your feet.”

  Tracey had told me about Harold’s house rules before. He had a strict policy that the only people allowed to sleep under his roof were his kids and the woman he was fucking. This meant he and Tracey would forever have their home to themselves, one because Tracey refused to get pregnant, and two because she was not the type to share her man or his bed.

  “It’s all good,” I said sincerely. “Shit, you got to keep your man happy. Hell, if you don’t—”

  “The next bitch will,” Tracey said, finishing my sentence.

  “You know it.” I nodded my head in agreement. “You wanna come in for a sec?” I asked politely, secretly hoping she would refuse. I was stressed about my situation and wasn’t feeling like girl talk at the moment, but at the same time, I was always willing to make time for my best friend.

  “Girl, I would come in, but I got to meet Harold out at the mall for lunch. Call me tonight.”

  “Okay. I will, and thanks for the ride,” I said, relieved that she had declined.

  I had almost made it to my front door when I saw Quick Rick approaching me. Rick was a tall, slim brother who closely resembled Chris Rock. He was also the neighborhood dope thief and booster extraordinaire. “What’s up, sexy?” Quick Rick asked, stopping beside me.

  I continued to approach my door, ignoring him. I had seen Rick several times around my apartment complex, and from what my neighbors told me, Quick Rick could steal the stank out of shit and the diaper off a baby quicker than you could blink. They didn’t call him Quick Rick for nothing! Granted, I’m sure their description of him was a bit exaggerated, and I didn’t have anything on me of value for him to take, but I wasn’t about to take any chances.

  “Damn. You can’t speak to a brotha?” he asked from behind me. “Stuck-up ass!”

  Ignoring him, I slid my key in the lock. Opening the door to the small apartment made my stomach turn. Although I kept my place clean, the one thing I couldn’t do anything about was that a roach or two would always greet me just as soon as I stepped into the living room. This time was no exception. I quickly dashed to the kitchen to retrieve one of many cans of Raid I kept under the cabinet. It was then that I noticed the faucet was leaking. “Son of a bitch!” I wailed to myself. If it wasn’t roaches and rodents, it was leaky-ass faucets. The building was a shit-hole, and the pot-bellied, toupee-wearing Danny Devito lookalike that passed himself off as my landlord was nothing more than a slumlord. In a fit of anger, I threw a plastic bowl underneath the cabinet to catch the dripping water. Then I made my way back into the living room to battle the roaches.

  After taking care of my unwanted guests, I did feel a wee bit better but still decided I needed a more effective stress reliever. I tried to delude myself into believing that getting high was the right solution, but the major problem with that was that it had taken every dime I had to buy the suit for that damn useless interview. And on top of that, I wasn’t due to receive any more money from my family for another seven days.

  Running out of options just that quickly, I decided to break down and call Steve, a shady brother I had met when I first moved to Georgia. Although Steve wasn’t my type, he was cute, with dark skin, a baby face, and a slim physique. He also didn’t mind spending his money, which made him a suitable ghetto version of my knight in shining armor whenever I was either stressed out, distressed, or broke.

  I held my breath as I dialed his number. The last time the two of us had kicked it, Steve had taken me out to eat and then to the movies. It was cool getting out, but the night did not end well. I loved the fact that Steve had no problem spending his money on me. It was what always came next that pissed my ass off. It didn’t matter if the brother had only paid for a burger and a milkshake, he always felt he was automatically entitled to a shot of pussy, but I wasn’t feeling Steve that way. I knew he dug me and wanted to fuck me, but I wouldn’t think of putting my precious pussy under the care of a muthafucka who wouldn’t know how to treat it. Sadly enough, though, I was just about to run out of those patented female lies women invent to keep a man off the booty. I wanted to avoid making Steve mad since I didn’t know when I would need him again, so I had to get my shit organized. I decided that if he came to my rescue this time, I would repeat one of my favorite fake-out games, but then I recalled that I had used the lie about being on my period the night we had gone to the movies. As I reflected upon my performance and decided it was an Oscar-worthy performance.

  “Oh,” I had said, grabbing my stomach dramatically.

  “What’s wrong, Ma?” Steve had looked genuinely concerned as we pulled out of the parking lot of the theater.

  “Damn cramps,” I had groaned. “I think my period just came down.”

  Steve had looked like he either wanted to curse my ass out or to slit my throat. “How you know?” he had asked. “You ain’t even checked.”

  “I’m a woman. I just know.”

  “Bullshit!” Steve had angrily growled. “I bet it’s just something you ate. I’m gonna stop and get you something to coat your stomach.”

  What the hell!? I had thought to myself. No, the hell he didn’t! Granted, I had promised him I would finally let him hit it, but he was trippin’! I know it’s written somewhere in the Brothers’ Handbook that when a female says she’s bleeding, you should dip! “No, I can feel it,” I had told him. I saw I was going to have to go deep, so I had reached way down into my bag of tricks. “I think I just need to go home and lie down for a minute. Can you swing by Walgreens and pick me up some tampons?”

  The look on Steve’s face had been priceless. Unable to grasp the logistics of my game, he quietly surrendered, mumbled something under his breath about “bullshit”, stopped by the drugstore, and then drove me home. I barely had the door closed before Steve drove off, burning rubber, leaving me standing in the parking lot with my purse and tampons in hand. That was three weeks ago, and now I hoped Steve was a forgiving person.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey,” I said cheerfully.

  “Who dis’?”

  “Stop playing, sweetie. You know who this is. It’s me, Asia.”

  “Oh. What up?”

  “Shit, tryin’ to see if you have some green.”

  “I thought you quit,” he said, sounding like a street-corner philosopher.

  “I did, but some things didn’t work out,” I said honestly. “I need to relieve some stress.”

  “Oh yeah?” Steve’s voice went up an octave. He was interested, and in his mind had probably already reached the conclusion that today just might be his lucky day. He instantly went into silent mode, and I knew that put the ball right back into my court.

  I did as he expected. I broke the silence. “So, you got it or not?

  “I ain’t got none, but I can get it.” Steve sounded sure, but I could tell he wasn’t in the mood to get played. He quizzed me openly. “What you got on it?”

  So there it is. As always, I would be forced to confess that I was broke. I smacked my lips loudly. “I was hoping you’d have me on it,” I spoke sweetly. “My money lookn’ a lil’ funny right now.”

  I hated feeling like I was depending on a man, especially one who was always only a couple dollars away from being broke his damn self. But we all know desperate times called for desperate measures.

  “You gon’ owe for this,” Steve barked. “Right?”

  I took a second to think about it. “Alright,” I said, exhaling, “but it better be some fire.”

  “I ain’t never had no complaints,” Steve laughed.

  “I was talkin’ ‘bout the trees,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What you talking ‘bout?”

  “Never mind,” Steve chuckled happily. “I got your trifling ass. I’ll be through in a minute.”

  “Don’t get lost,” I
muttered before hanging up the phone.

  Thirty minutes later, just as the two women on The Jerry Springer Show started to throw chairs at each other, Steve was knocking at my door. “Coming!” I shouted through the door, one hand on the remote and the other reaching for the doorknob. In my mind, I was praying the boy had some good green.

  When I flung open the door, he stood there smiling from ear to ear with a bottle of Remy and a box of chicken.

  “Damn! I appreciate the special treatment, but I already ate.” I stepped to the side. “Come on in.”

  Entering my apartment, Steve made it a point to brush up against me. Strangely enough, he was bolder than ever before, and even more strange was the look of lust in his eyes, the look on his face that let me know he thought he was gonna get a piece. Granted, I was horny my damn self, but I had no intentions of fulfilling Steve’s fantasy. My mind was made up that giving up the pussy was a no-go.

  “What’s up, baby girl? You looking beautiful as ever,” Steve declared, smiling at me. “Here, roll this shit up,” he said as he handed me a small plastic bag filled with weed. “Shit so strong you can smell it through the bag,” he said proudly. “Muthafucka I got it from say it’ll set your ass on fire.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I said, staring at the dime bag Steve gave me, “but I’m a big girl.”

  I stared Steve directly in his eyes. “I can handle mine.”

  “Shit, we’ll see,” Steve said, laughing lightly. “We will see.”

  * * * * *

  Twenty minutes later, I sat spread-eagled on my couch with Steve licking my clit like an ice cream cone. Some time ago, in what seemed like a fairytale, I vaguely recalled promising myself that I wasn’t ever going to give up the pussy, but my high had my coochie throbbing and to not give it up would have seemed like a cruel joke on both of us—not just on Steve, but also on me. I am a hundred percent convinced that I wanted to fuck worse than he did. He was merely in the right place at the right time.