“I ordered for you since I was hungry and you were an hour late,” he said as he put the glass to his head.
“Since you’re so hungry, why don’t you have both meals? I’m sure that I wouldn’t enjoy what you ordered anyways.”
She turned to walk away but he stood up and grabbed her arm, letting her know that he still needed her company. She looked down at her wrist, then looked back at him, indicating that he needed to release her hand. He quickly obliged, raising both his hands for a truce. Keisha stepped away from the table, turned off by his attitude.
“Wait a minute.”
She stopped and turned to face him.
“I like that you have some fire in you. Let’s start over. Since this is a five-star restaurant you can order anything you want on the menu. It’s my treat.”
“Is that supposed to make me smile from ear-to-ear as if I’m not acquainted with fine dining?”
David made a few huge sales in real estate and now he thought he was Donald Trump or God’s gift to women. In fact he was a small fry in comparison to some of the men she was dating. Yes, you heard right, some of the men. Keisha took a deep breath and exhaled aloud. As she walked back to the table her blood was boiling. She couldn’t stand a man who was on his high horse thinking he was God’s gift to woman.
Their table was close to the kitchen and she could hear the ruckus that was going on back there. It was like an episode of Hell’s Kitchen. She pulled out the chair and sat down and her eyes begin to wander from table to table. Keisha frequently dined at this restaurant but never was it full to capacity like tonight. As she continued scanning the room, tuning out whatever David was yapping about, her eyes locked on to the Jamaican Olympic track star Usain Bolt dining with a few reggae artists.
The ringing of David’s phone caused her to bring her attention to him. “Hello,” he answered with a smile. He was instructing someone to meet him at the restaurant and Keisha was about to spit fire. “See you in a few.” David ended his conversation.
“What was that about?”
“I’m having an old friend of mine dining with us, that’s all.”
This motherfucker must be crazy. How the hell is he going to invite someone on our date? On second thought his friend is probably more my type anyway. I could just slip him my number and see what he has to offer.
Keisha was enjoying her steak more than she was enjoying David’s company. He was blabbing about his new Ferrari.
“Is your friend in real estate too?” Keisha cut him off in midsentence.
“No,” he replied and tried to carry on his conversation, praising his car. She didn’t want to hear about how expensive the car was, nor was she fascinated by his description of the posh leather interior. He was admiring his car more than he was admiring her and she was right there in his presence. Who wouldn’t want to compliment me or beg for my attention? David was in love with his new car and she was jealous.
“So, is he a childhood friend?” Keisha inquired, but her attention shifted while he replied to her question. She was incoherent of his words because of the woman walking toward their table, strutting her stuff in a dress by Dolce & Gabbana: the same dress she planed on ordering when she saw it in a magazine. There was no denying that the woman was stunning. The knee-length pink spaghetti-strap dress hugged the woman’s figure. Her ample bosom, which looked to be a thirty-eight C, sat perfectly on her chest. They were surely bought and paid for. Keisha brought her attention back to her plate, not wanting to stare at the woman any longer because the green-eyed monster would start to show. Not many women could size up to Keisha but tonight she saw her competition.
“What were you saying about your friend?” she said, raising her glass to her lips, which were heavily moistened with lip gloss. The outline of her lips remained on the rim with a slight tinge of pink when she set the glass back on the table.
“She is right here.”
“She?” Keisha asked with a quick turn of her head. She was under the assumption that David’s friend would be a male.
David got up from his seat and greeted the woman with a tight embrace. Keisha quickly took another sip of her wine to wash the filet mignon down so she wouldn’t choke.
“Keisha, this is my old friend Lisa I was telling you about.” David introduced the woman with pride. She was the same woman wearing the designer dress that Keisha was just admiring.
Oh hell no. The date was already going sour but now the presence of this woman joining them put a bitter taste in her mouth. Keisha had lost her appetite. She wanted to toss her drink in his face and couldn’t have cared less if she ruined the bitch’s expensive dress. The woman was all over David as if he was a long-lost lover or she was a bitch for hire who he paid well.
The waiter brought an extra chair and David fixed it at the table, then made sure that Lisa was properly seated. Look at this shit. He didn’t even pull my damn chair. Now I definitely have to get to the bottom of this shit.
“Are you two lovers or just friends?” she blurted without delay.
“I would say just friends,” the woman replied while gazing into David’s eyes. She wiped his cheek, removing her lip gloss that was placed there from her kiss.
“Is that more like friends with benefit?” Keisha suspiciously asked.
“David, I think someone is getting jealous,” Lisa sang in an annoying voice.
Bitch, please, I might be pissed about the fact that you are wearing the dress I wanted but certainly not jealous of you and him. All I want is to get close to his pocket, not him.
The waiter returned to refill their glasses but Keisha opted for something stronger because she wanted to calm her nerves. She wanted to explode on them but she held her composure and remained classy.
“Cîroc pineapple,” Keisha ordered with a smile on her face.
David took the extra plate that wasn’t touched and placed it in front of Lisa. “Oh, salmon is my favorite.” Without hesitation, she picked up the fork and indulged.
I guess he ordered it for your ass because I definitely don’t like salmon.
“So, did David tell you about his new Ferrari?” she asked while still chewing.
“Yes, but a Bentley is more on my level.”
“Where did you find this one? She has expensive taste.”
“Where did he find me?” Keisha raised her voice, turning a few heads.
“Calm down.” David tried to defuse her. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”
The waiter returned with Keisha’s order of Cîroc pineapple. It couldn’t have been better timing. She took a big gulp, almost finishing her drink in one shot.
David sat with his arms folded on his chest, intently viewing both women. He was feeling like a king. He was getting satisfaction from having two beautiful women wanting him.
Lisa and David caught up on old times as if Keisha weren’t even at the table. The woman gave him goggle eyes as she laughed at his jokes that weren’t even funny. Why the hell am I still here? It’s obvious that three is a crowd. Keisha wiped her mouth with the white napkin, staining it with her pink lip gloss. She reached for her Louis V. purse in her lap, finding her lip gloss to reapply. A little freshening up before she made her exit.
“So, ladies, what’s for dessert?” David rubbed his hands together.
“I don’t think she will go for it,” Lisa added as they both stared at Keisha.
“Let me handle it,” David said with confidence. He went into his pocket and took out a stack of money and placed it in front of Keisha.
She looked at him questioningly with her brow frowned. “What the hell is that for?”
David got up from his chair and walked behind Keisha, resting his hands on both of her shoulders, massaging them gently. “That’s my way of apologize for my attitude earlier and hoping that after dinner you will join us at the hotel for dessert. So what will it be?”
Keisha stood up from her chair, enraged. “Do I look like a fucking whore? Take your money and shove it up her
ass. How about eating that for dessert?” Keisha took the remainder of her drink and tossed it into Lisa’s lap.
“You bitch!” Lisa yelled, causing people to stare.
“No, honey, that’s you.” Keisha walked out of the restaurant like a model on a runway, holding her head high, refraining from bringing out the ghetto in her. She didn’t want to be stereotyped as the ghetto black girl in a fancy restaurant. Besides, a few high rollers had their eyes on her. And she wanted to remain a lady.
The continuous ringing of the doorbell played an awful tune. She tried to ignore it but the person wouldn’t go away, which resulted in her ending her shower. She grabbed her robe and covered herself, then hastily walked to the door like a madwoman. There was a woman she didn’t recognize standing at her door.
“May I help you?”
“Where is he? I know he’s in there!” the angry woman yelled as she tried to see past her by tipping up on her toes, swaying from side to side.
If it was any other morning Keisha would have enjoyed putting her in her place, but not this morning. She didn’t know this woman and she didn’t care to know who she was or what she was being accused of. After viewing her from head to toe, Keisha shook her head and slammed the door in her face. It wasn’t unusual for a wife to come knocking at her door whenever her husband didn’t come home at night. Keisha would always feel the wrath of the sanctimonious bitches whether or not she was guilty of the crime.
“Charles, I know you are in there!” the woman shouted as she banged on the door. The boisterous woman had her neighbors’ curiosity running wild. You could see them peeping out their windows to see what was going on.
This was a quiet and quaint neighborhood located in Bridgeport, Connecticut, an hour away from New York. The neighbors’ lawns were always well manicured, with luxurious cars in each driveway showing off their wealth; but that was also a cover-up to hide their miserable and unhappy lives. You would see wives running errands with their fancy designer handbags occasionally waving to their neighbors and giving a phony smile. They all feared Keisha because their husbands secretly lusted after her and she had a reputation for crossing boundaries to get whatever she wanted. Keisha didn’t care much for the people who lived in the neighborhood but she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her leave.
Keisha moved to the neighborhood when Martin uprooted her from the Bronx. Her apartment, off White Plains Road at 228th and Carpenter, was her paradise until she met Martin one day when she went shopping in the city.
She accidentally walked into Martin because she was gazing at a Chanel pocketbook that she couldn’t afford. “I’m so sorry.” She tried to get by him on the busy sidewalk.
“All is forgiven if you let me purchase that pocketbook for you.”
Keisha slowed her steps and looked over her shoulder to view him. She was tempted by his offer. But she decided to keep walking.
He caught up with her and kept up with her pace. “I mean no harm. I just hate to see a beautiful woman not getting what she wants.”
Keisha noticed his expensive suit and immediately knew she wanted to spend some of his money.
“How about if we go to lunch in a public place so you can get to know me better?”
Keisha thought about the Chanel pocketbook and how badly she wanted it, but decided to play it safe. “No, thank you.”
Martin nodded his head in approval. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his business card. “Well, here is my card. You can call me anytime.”
Keisha took his card and walked away, disappearing in the Manhattan rush-hour crowd.
Two months after dialing Mr. Martin Graham’s number, Keisha was living in Connecticut with her sugar daddy. He wanted her closer to him even though he was married and lived a few blocks down with his wife and kids. But since he was paying the bills she went along for the ride. People would whisper about their affair but she couldn’t care less. But this morning after his wife stormed into her bedroom she knew whatever was left of her reputation would be tarnished. All the neighborhood wives would now put their husbands on a tight leash knowing Keisha was a home wrecker. Martin’s wife would take Martin for all he had, leaving him with nothing; but Keisha was no fool. She had blackmailed Martin into paying off her condo, or else she would go public with the videos she made of him and his crazy fantasies. Besides, the condo was already in her name. She knew what she wanted and how to get it.
Now it would be a ritual for insecure wives to come knocking at her door, looking for their husbands. Like this crazy bitch who was still banging her door. Keisha was going to have a field day telling them how great their husbands were in bed for her cruel satisfaction, especially if she was being accused of an affair that she had nothing to do with. She was going to enjoy knocking them off their high pedestals, but this morning she didn’t have the energy or the time to deal with this bitch.
Keisha poured a bottle of water that was sitting on the counter into the kettle and turned the stove on without acknowledging the verbal attack of a gold digger gone mad outside. These wives weren’t in love with their husbands, but in love with the money, so they felt threatened whenever another woman was in the picture. The ringing of her cell phone made her rush to the bedroom. It was sitting on the nightstand playing a song by Drake. “Hey you,” she said seductively.
Her persona suddenly changed from monotonous to sensual bliss, followed by a smile from ear to ear. She massaged her leg with a Victoria’s Secret lotion and smiled at the words that tainted her mind. Keisha released a big laugh, dismissing the negative energy that had made her morning miserable. “I’ll see you then.” She ended her conversation.
Standing in front of her walk-in closet trying to decide the outfit for the day wasn’t a hard task because she had everything to her comfort. She picked out a white fitted Bebe dress pant with the price tag of $110 still on it. She put her feet in then wiggled it up her legs. The tight-fitted black tank top made her breasts seem as if she had implants. The white fitted blazer made the look complete. She viewed herself in the mirror and saw perfection. Keisha blew herself a kiss. I feel bad for the people who aren’t as beautiful as me.
She heavily applied her Mac makeup then completed the look with her black Michael K. pumps and matching purse. She took a second glance in the mirror and her beauty was undeniable. “Damn I look good.”
She exited the bedroom and sashayed her way to the door. Outside in the driveway her silver BMW awaited her. Keisha covered her eyes with her Gucci shades and turned the keys in the ignition. “She’s Royal” by Tarrus Riley started to play. Her cell phone started to ring and it was Tina calling. “Hello,” she answered as she backed out of the driveway with one hand on the steering wheel, looking behind her. “I’m on my way.”
Chapter 3
Within minutes Keisha was outside Tina’s apartment. She blew the car horn. “I knew she wouldn’t be ready.” She tapped on her horn again. Keisha viewed herself in the mirror to make sure her makeup wasn’t flawed. Tina opened the passenger side door and sat in the car. “What took you so long?”
“I had to look as good as you,” Tina replied.
Keisha gave her a once-over. “Not even close.” She drove off. “Let’s go over the plan once again because you seem to lose your head sometimes. If he’s not falling for the trap you need to come over and act as if I am a business acquaintance of yours.”
“Yes, from Hustler magazine!” Tina laughed.
“It’s not funny. I know you get nervous around these big shots but you better don’t miss my signal.”
Keisha and Tina were up to their old tricks as usual. Seeking out prey was their daily ritual. According to them their bodies would make them rich because they already had degrees in hustling suckers for their money. One of their many tactics would be to Google wealthy businessmen, then seek out their places of business. Keisha would accidentally bump into him on his way out to lunch. This was a craft that she had perfected.
They entered
the lobby of People’s Bank headquarters in downtown Bridgeport, wearing their confidence proudly.
“Hello. May I help you?” the receptionist greeted them.
They strolled past her to the elevator.
“Ladies, ladies, you have to sign in!”
They proceeded without acknowledging the receptionist. The numbers were counting down on the elevator and Keisha rushed over to the door, awaiting a victim. Five, four, three, two, one. She counted down the numbers in her head. Ding! The elevator stopped, and a man exited the elevator, and she stepped into him, dropping the folder she had in her hand, and paper scattered on the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” the man said as he gathered up the documents from the ground. He looked up at her.
“Uncle Patrick!” Keisha quickly stepped back. It had been many years since the last time she saw her uncle, and to be reunited in an awkward situation like this. He wasn’t supposed to be the one coming out of the elevator. They were both surprised.
“What are you doing here?” Keisha inquired.
“I should be asking you that question.” He quickly stood to his feet, speaking in a deep voice that would be fit for a radio personality.
“I’m here for a job interview on the third floor.”
“What position? I can put in a good word for you.”
“In the fraud department, but I have this job in the bag. My connection, Simone, is going to work her magic.”
“Do you mean Mrs. Simone Preston?”
“No, Simone Merkerson.” I can’t believe that there is a Simone working here. Well, let’s see if there is one with this last name. I really hope he doesn’t go inquiring.
Kiss Me on the Inside Page 2