BWWM Romance: Crossing The Line: Interracial Romance / Wealthy Love Interest

by Aisha M. Taylor

  “Hey, I’m going to look out for you, ‘kay?”

  “Deal.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Postponing the dinner looked better on paper than it did in execution, but Rodger was so excited to show them the new house he bought with a dead uncle's inheritance that he easily ignored the cattiness amongst the women. He even reached out to Shawna to bring Mikki for Rob's sake.

  Mikki had offered to meet them there, but in the spirit of playing nice, Virgil volunteered to drive. Mikki hopped into the back of the beast and whistled. "What are you trying to compensate for with this much truck?" she asked before her filter could be fit into place. Shawna shot her a dirty look from over the seat, but Virgil just laughed.

  "Not a goddamn thing. I just don't like trying to see over other people's shit," he said, pulling out of the lot. The crisp evening had a summertime atmosphere even though they were settling into autumn. The leaves swayed in the light breeze, their dramatic colors lining the streets. Shawna cracked her window to feel the air on her face as the silence in the vehicle grew as thick as smog.

  "I just have to ask," Virgil said. "Are you spying on me for my mother?"

  "Who? What? Oh god, no," Mikki said as if that was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. "Your mother ain't even thinking about you. No offense. But she hasn't even mentioned you since you've moved out. She didn't talk about you while you lived there. She’s all about herself, that one. She reminds me of my mom."

  Mikki folded her arms and stared out the window at the traffic passing in the opposite direction. Virgil raised his eyebrows and fell quiet. Most people pitied him when they found out that his mother was a drunk, moody sociopath. Finding someone who had the same issues was a rarity. A twinge of guilt struck him in the gut as he thought back to the stories Shawna told him about her and Mikki's modest beginnings. Although, due to his rocky relationship with Mikki, Shawna hadn't spoken about her much, Shawna did always mention Mikki as part of her childhood. The two girls came from the same background, but now that he thought about it, Mikki needed Shawna and her family far more than Shawna needed Mikki. As Shawna told it, Mikki was always there. Sleeping, eating, hanging onto Shawna, walking her to and from school. They were inseparable and one might wonder if it was more than just friendship. Virgil at least had had status. Status didn't tuck him in at night, kiss him, or tell him it loved him, but it bought him those things. It was an empty victory.

  "My friend is head over heels for you, you know," Virgil said, changing the subject. "Rob doesn't talk about anything else."

  "He seems nice . . ." Mikki said warily. "I don't date clients."

  "He's not a client."

  "As soon as you all agreed to do that benefit concert, you became my clients."

  Virgil cocked an eyebrow as they turned the corner. "What benefits does that come with?"

  "Depends on if you're going to start paying me. For now, it's just exposure to those execs. If they ask me questions, I will answer them the same way I would for any other client."

  "That's really nice of you," Shawna said. "It's not going to get you off that boy's mind, though."

  "He'll live."

  "Can you be nice to him tonight?" Shawna asked.

  "No," Mikki said, looking at Shawna through the reflection in the windshield. "I don't want to give him the wrong idea. I don't believe in leading people on."

  They pulled into the driveway in front of the large house. A car honked at them, and Erika waved from the driver's seat of a monster, older-model pink Cadillac.

  "Oh my god, Mikki, I think she's driving a Mary Kay car."

  "I wonder if she won it," Mikki asked, waving back at Erika.

  "She's not old enough to have won that one."

  "What's a Mary Kay car?" Virgil asked. Both women giggled and said it was a girl thing before jumping out of the parked truck to go investigate further.

  As the women chattered, their voices were drowned out by a motorcycle engine. Rob roared up the driveway and pulled in next to Erika's car. He slid off the bike wearing tight, black leather pants and a heavy biker's jacket. He put his helmet on the back of the motorcycle and shook out his brown hair, brushing it back from his face with his fingers. His eyes landed on Mikki and he smiled.

  "Good evening, ladies," he said, wrapping his arms around Shawna and Mikki's waists. "What a beautiful night, huh?" He looked deep into Mikki's eyes and said, "I am absolutely famished."

  Virgil rescued Shawna from Rob's grasp as Rodger opened the door and called out to them to come inside. Rodger's house was nothing short of a McMansion, something a group of novice contractors threw together from a box with instructions. With its sharp lines and modern architecture, it made Virgil's parents' estate look like a Scottish relic. The soupy colors clashed with the furniture, and the labyrinth-like layout had his guests' heads spinning.

  "You gave someone money for this?" Rob asked, tugging on Rodger's black ponytail. Rodger's clean face looked strikingly different without the heavy makeup he wore for performances. His round, clean-shaven face looked sweet and innocent, as if he were a boy scout who never grew up. He brushed off Rob and snagged Shawna and Mikki under each arm.

  "You ladies like it, right?"

  "We haven't really seen it," Shawna said, looking up at the towering ceilings and the winding staircase that led to the second level. A birdcage of an elevator sat nestled against the wall. Overstuffed, shabby chic French benches lined the hallway and random landscape paintings in distressed bronze and wooden frames hung every few feet. The poor attempt to mix old school, rustic charm with the modern architecture gave the mansion a tacky, trying-too-hard look. She didn't know Rodger well enough to joke with him, but Shawna really wanted to ask him if he had robbed an imports store.

  "I have the number for the man who decorated my house," Mikki said, taking out her phone and showing pictures to Rodger. "I think we had the same architect."

  "Wow. Huh . . . Yeah, I think I'll take that number." Rodger winked at Mikki and led the party through the long entry way and into the foyer. The dining room was down another hall, past the kitchen. The more Shawna looked around, the more right she thought Mikki was. Rodger's house had almost the exact same layout. A little elbow grease and it could look less like an antique store nightmare.

  The dining room had more thought put into the design. It held family photos and while the table was large, it wasn't gaudy. The white marble fireplace was clean and modern. It was the warmest of the rooms they had been in.

  "Wait . . ." Rodger said as they started finding their seats. "I don't think I did this right. I think we're supposed to chill in the drawing room before coming in here. Right?" He turned to Virgil. Virgil shrugged.

  "Do I look like Emily Post to you?"

  "Your parents didn't do hoity-toity, fancy dinners?"

  "Dude, I don't even know what that means."

  Erika plopped down in her seat and the others followed suit. Rob pulled Mikki's chair out for her and Virgil trapped her by pulling out the chair next to it for Shawna. Mikki glared as she settled down in the seat, but offered Rob a kind nod and a thank you. He gave her wrist a gentle squeeze and offered to get her something to drink.

  "Aren't we missing someone?" Erika asked.

  "Yeah, Glen and Janet both said they were coming."

  The atmosphere in the dining room iced over with the anticipation of an uncomfortable conversation. For the past several weeks the subject of Glen and Janet had been a minefield, which the band had tiptoed around directly discussing. They tried their best to talk about them only as separate people.

  "Sooooo, are those two an item or what?" Mikki said, addressing the elephant in the room.

  "I hope not," Rob said. "That woman is bad news."

  "They are," Erika chimed in. "They definitely are. They're always together and hanging on each other. Sneaking off together like the four other people they're with won't notice."

  "Jealous?" Rodger asked, trying desperately to lighten the mo
od. The topic was bound to come up eventually, but Rodger had hoped that everyone would be on time and there wouldn't have been room for gossip. He had expected a different reaction from the band―one of anger―but they all seemed concerned for Glen's wellbeing and Janet's sobriety. Virgil had begun to shred a paper napkin and Shawna actively stayed out of the conversation. Rob stood to help himself to the kitchen.

  "No, not jealous," Erika said. "Come on. You guys are like brothers to me. I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to any of you."

  "Thanks, poppet," Rob said, opening a bottle of sparkling apple cider. Virgil had his drinking under control and could take a glass of wine or champagne, even a beer, but out of respect for the process, Rodger had no alcohol in the house.

  "You'd think he'd know better," Mikki said, taking the glass Rob offered. "You don't shit where you eat. By the way, Virgil, your mother keeps a very dedicated record of all of your associates."

  "Oh, yeah. We know all about the vault," Rodger said. "What do you do for his mother?"

  "I keep her trouble out of the public eye, connect her with the right people inside of my network, and I'm trying to get her to take a serious look at getting sober. Look at what rehab did for that mayor in Canada. They raced to the polls to re-elect him."

  "Neat," Rob said. "You're right, though. Glen should know better. We should've said something when he suggested bringing Janet back to manage us. He was so insistent upon it."

  "I asked him if he was seeing her," Rodger said. "He kept telling me she wasn't his type. Well . . . we see how well that held up."

  "She isn't his type," Virgil said quietly. He ran out of napkin to shred and so he had to use his voice to express himself. "Janet is a spider. She doesn't do it on purpose―at least, I don't think she does―but she lures people into her lonely web and then manipulates them to her liking. She finds their weaknesses and exploits them, makes people depend on her. Then she uses those weaknesses as an excuse for her to self-medicate with the other person. She needs help."

  Virgil didn't lift his eyes from the table to meet the sympathetic, almost shocked gazes of the others sitting around the table. The silence stretched on for what seemed like forever. Shawna squeezed Virgil's thigh under the table where the others couldn't see and he looked up to meet her kind eyes. She gave him a smile and rocked to bounce her shoulder off of his. A a quiet nervous laugh escaped Virgil's lips and the room relaxed.

  "Ugh, you two are like some weird cuteness overload," Rob said. He turned to Mikki. "You wanna be a cuteness overload, darling?"

  "You don't give up, do you?"

  "This is true. My mouth just keeps going and going," he said suggestively. Mikki rolled her eyes, but gave his cheek a gentle pinch. Rob’s crassness and English accent were beginning to grow on her.

  "Ew," Erika said, laughing.

  "Did you lads and ladies know that our friend Rodger here is an absolute sexual deviant?" Rob asked. He beamed with pride as the women gawked, open-mouthed. Erika nearly spit out her cider while Virgil simply nodded.

  "Really, Rob?" Rodger said, pretending to pout. "Just going to throw it out like that? Well, I guess I have to show you all my play room now."

  Rodger stood and his guests followed him out the dining room and up the stairs. The second level of the house had more thought put into it than the entrance. The large photographs lining the hallway were neat and orderly. Photos of the band together. Blown up covers of their first two albums. Photos of their old studio. Shawna stopped and touched the frame of one photo. A filtered black and white photo in a black frame showed a younger version of the band. Virgil screamed into a microphone while Rodger and Glen strummed at their bass and guitar. Rob banged on the keys of an electric piano and Janet, with wild hair and wilder eyes, beat the living daylights out of the drums, her arms just a blur.

  "Who took this?" Shawna asked.

  "Glen's sister did," Rodger said. "She took a lot of these. She's a big photojournalist now, but we can still get her to come take our picture. Did our first album cover, too."

  "They're really good. Where's your copy?" she asked Virgil.

  "In storage with 60 percent of the other stuff I was too lazy to get moved into the condo."

  The group moved further down the hallway. Several of the rooms were guest bedrooms. There was a large home office and at the very end of the hall sat the master bedroom. The black accent wall held a painting of a pagan god. Below it sat a small table with half burned purple and white candles and an incense burner.

  "Sorry, Christians, please ignore," Rodger said, quickly ushering them across the room. On one side sat a master bathroom and on the other was what had been a large walk-in closet. "I did do a little redesigning and construction," Rodger said, turning on a light.

  Mikki took out her phone and snapped a picture. A large leather sex swing hung from a set of thick, shining silver chains. The walls were lined with racks holding masks, whips and toys. There was a large candy jar full of colorful, flavored condoms and a shelf of various types of lube. There was a motorized machine with a dildo attached, and a rocking chair with a hole in the seat. Mikki took a few more pictures and was the first to enter the room after Rodger.

  "It's so . . . clean," she said.

  "Of course it's clean. I'm not trying to catch anything."

  Rob crossed his arms and watched Mikki flit around the room taking pictures and touching the various mechanisms. She took a seat in the rocking chair and giggled. Shawna gingerly entered the room and eyed the swing. Virgil came behind her and kissed her cheek. "We can get one installed by the weekend," he whispered. Turning her around, he guided her into the seat.

  "You haven't seen the best part," Rodger said. He strolled over to a panel. When he hit a button, the swing lifted toward the ceiling until Shawna’s pussy was level with Virgil's face.

  "I love it," Virgil said. He kissed the inside of Shawna's thigh. She squealed and demanded to be let down.

  "Don't you take a picture of me!" Shawna barked at Mikki, who shrugged and put her phone down.

  "This is . . . intense," Erika said. "Yeah . . . intense. I don't think I wanted to know this much about you, Rodger."

  "It's okay, sweetheart. It's fun for all genders and sexual orientations. You can borrow it anytime."

  "Oh, god," Erika spat. "I'll stick to doing it the old-fashioned way."

  The doorbell rang and the energy dropped instantly. Rodger sighed and led the group back through the room. "I guess it's time for dinner."

  Rodger sat them all down and went to answer the door. Glen and Janet followed Rodger into the dining room and took their seats at the table. The hellos were thin and unenthusiastic, but the pair didn't seem to mind. They both wore dark sunglasses despite the sun having been gone for a good hour. Glen's hair was uncombed, sticking up in various directions. It could have been written off as rocker chic, but the group knew better.

  "What are you doing here?" Janet demanded, taking off her sunglasses so that Mikki could see the anger in her bloodshot eyes. Janet's intimidation factor was seriously diminished by the way she wobbled.

  "Um, let’s see. Oh yeah, I was invited," Mikki said. Janet rolled her eyes and sat down. Rodger made a dash for the kitchen. All casual conversation had ceased and an awkward silence took over. Erika quietly commented to Mikki about how good the food smelled, and Mikki told her about a little restaurant she might like. Virgil brushed his fingertips along Shawna's arm and kissed her cheek. With his mouth to her ear, he whispered, "I'm so sorry for whatever is about to happen."

  "I'm not worried about it," Shawna said, taking a sip from her glass.

  "I love you," he said.

  Janet leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. Her blood-red nails scratched at her cheek as she took in what she could see of Shawna's outfit. Shawna wore a simple pair of dark blue jeans and a gray button down with three-quarter sleeves. Shawna and Mikki had gotten their nails done. Shawna's were dark purple with false jewe
ls in the center of each tip. Her lipstick was sensible for her skin tone, and her eye makeup was light. She dressed for comfort more than style. When she had asked Virgil if she should wear anything special, he had looked at her as if she was nuts. Janet tilted her head. A wide mischievous smile crept to her deep red lips, and the fake mole near her nose tipped toward her dimple.

  "I knew that dress was part of a costume," she said. "There's that church girl we keep hearing about. Modest, mute, meek. It's adorable."

  Shawna cocked an eyebrow. Engaging Janet meant an escalation of a situation she wasn't sure she could deal with. Avoiding embarrassing herself and Virgil was more important than entertaining Janet's ego. Her barbs were harmless as long as Shawna stayed on her side of the fence. Honestly, Shawna didn't feel like she had a bone to pick with Janet. She had already won. Virgil sat next to her with one hand in her lap, stroking her knee and the inside of her thigh, obviously still turned on from their tour of Rodger's playroom. Janet had attempted to entice Shawna into a battle of wits. Mikki took the bait instead.

  "Yeah, some of us don't like going out in the same thing we went to bed in." Mikki looked Janet dead in the eye and dared her to say something smart. Shawna glanced over at Virgil, who hid an amused smile behind his glass.

  "I just remember Virgil enjoying women with much more . . . personality. I'm not saying you're plain, but you are really just a girl who likes to play dress-up aren't you?"

  "Back off, Janet," Virgil warned.

  "I don't answer to you," Shawna said darkly. "I'm not here for your approval."

  "Oh, the mouse has a squeak!" Janet laughed.

  "Leave her alone," Glen said. He yawned and slumped into his seat. Unimpressed with the non-alcoholic beverages, he pulled a silver flask out of his jacket and added the contents with his and Janet's glasses. He offered the flask around the table, but everyone refused.

  "You shouldn't be drinking, love," Rob said.

  "And you should get treated for your jungle fever. Take your friend with you."