Scandal: Crossing Boundaries (Scandal Series #1 INTERRACIAL ROMANCE)

by St. Claire, Jean

  "What's this?"

  She quickly picked it up and unfolded it, her heart pounding in her chest. She dreaded what was inside, almost positive it was going to be a racist ass note from one of those white kids.

  She had a group of boys in her fourth period class that she often overheard saying offensive stuff. Keisha would not put it past them to pull a racist prank on her.

  I knew I shouldn't have let down my guard, she thought angrily.

  But to her surprise, there was nothing racist on the page at all all.

  You're beautiful. -Your secret admirer.

  Staring at the note, she could only wonder who had written it. There were a lot of boys in her seven classes, and some of them even looked at her like she was a piece of meat, but she had paid it no mind.

  While she was kind of flattered, the idea that one of the school boys had a crush on her was disturbing.

  It was totally inappropriate on top of all the other detracting things that were wrong with it. For one, she was married. For two, she did not like little, undeveloped boys. And lastly, white had never really been her thing.

  The bell rang right then. She swiftly folded the note back up and stuck it within her desk drawer, deciding she would throw the thing away later.

  The class began quickly filling up. Keisha greeted each of her students with a gracious smile as they flowed into the room. When it seemed like everyone that was going to show up was in the class room, Keisha rose to her feet and crossed over to the door.

  Before she could shut it, Zack Palmer rushed through the doorway, slamming into Keisha and knocking her onto the floor.

  "Oh my God," she heard him say as the class gasped with shock. "I'm so sorry."

  She hadn't been on the floor but for a second when she felt strong arms lifting her to her feet. For a moment, she was pressed against a hard stomach with Zack's blue eyes gazing into her face.

  There was something there, but she did not know what.

  Embarrassed, she pulled away and brushed at the dirt that had gotten on her dress. "It's okay Zack," she told the handsome boy. "At least you were in a rush to get to class to learn and not ditching."

  But Zack stood there like a statue, still looking horrified. "I'm really, really sorry."

  "It's fine," Keisha chuckled, brushing it off, though her thigh did kind of hurt a bit.

  "Did I hurt you?" Zack asked, looking as if he would cry.

  Damn boy, you act as if I broke a leg.

  "I am fine Zack," Keisha said more firmly. Precious class time was ticking away. "Now please go sit down, before I have to hurt you."

  The classroom burst out into giggles.

  Looking like a hurt puppy, the boy turned and walked over to his desk.

  When he had settled in his seat, Keisha went back over to shut the door and then clapped her hands together, saying, "Okay class. You know the drill."

  She began taking roll call, while at the same time peering into each and every boy's face of whose name she had called, wondering if he could be the one who wrote the note.

  When she got around to Anthony Lilly, their eyes met and the pale-faced boy gave her a mischievous nod filled with lust. The muscle-bound boy looked like he wanted to jump on her right then and there.

  Lord, have mercy, Keisha thought. Please tell me this midget is not the one who wrote that note.

  While Anthony was in shape, he was short and stubby and not very attractive at all. Not that Keisha would have cared if he was, but it definitely made her feel uneasy to have such an ugly-looking creature lusting after her.

  She really hoped he wasn't the one that wrote the note.

  She continued on, looking for a sign from any of the other boys that would give them away. But she was unable to find anything other than a few polite smiles.

  Honestly, it could have been anyone.

  Now this shit is going to bother me until I find out who it is.

  She half wanted to show the note to the class and demand who had wrote it, but logic dictated if it was serious, whoever it was would never admit to it. Then after she showed it to each of her seven classes, and no one admitted to it, rumors would probably start flying about and she would wind up with a bigger problem on her hands.

  Better to let it go, and hope it's just a onetime thing.

  "Okay class, it's time for your daily assignment," Keisha announced when she was done.

  She grabbed the math guide book off her desk along with Mrs. Witherby's notes and went over to the chalk board to start writing out examples. She did not exactly agree with the old woman's style, but had been forced to see her outline through to its completion since she had come in with half a school year left.

  As she began writing out problems, she was suddenly aware of how tight her dress felt around her bottom area.

  My ass needs to stop eating at Wendy's, she thought with disgust. I'll be as big as a house in a hot minute, forced to wear baby doll dresses to hide my big ass.

  The board was fast becoming filled with equations and Keisha was nearly out of room for the last problem. Moving over to the far side and standing on her tip-toes, Keisha began writing out the final equation, but the balance of the heavy book on her arm was upset and the weighty tome plunged to the floor with a loud slam.

  Holding in a curse, she bent over to pick it up, half turning her body in the process. On her way back to her feet, her eyes fell upon Zack Palmer. He looked very uncomfortable...like he wanted to bolt from the class room.

  The poor thing might be still upset about knocking me on the floor.

  Touched by his concern, she resisted on calling out if he was alright and finished on with the last equation.

  When she was done, she lectured the class on the assignment, making sure they all understood what they should be doing.

  "Alright class," she told them all after she had explained everything, scanning over the young faces in the room. "If you need any help, you know where to find me."

  Back at her desk, she began grading papers while her students immersed themselves in the assignment. When she got to several of Zack's papers she had to double check them twice, her mouth opening wide with shock. Nearly eighty-percent of his answers were wrong.

  It was her understanding that Zack was a math whiz, so this kind of gross negligence disturbed her.

  He must be having problems at home, she thought. That's why he must be looking like that.

  She glanced over at the boy, and sure enough, he was looking very uncomfortable, like something was wrong. His worry probably had little to do with knocking her over into the floor and everything to do with his bad performance.

  When the bell rung, she waited until most of the kids had vacated the classroom, calling Zack over to her desk before he could walk out the door. He glanced over at her, hesitating for a moment, before obeying her command.

  "Is something wrong at home Zack?" Keisha asked the boy when he stood over her desk, looking like he wanted to run from her presence.

  He shook his head, avoiding her eyes. "No."

  Keisha was unconvinced. "Well something is going on. You did very poor on your last exam and all your recent assignments have done just as poorly. It's so bad that your GPA is about to drop a percent."

  Zack shrugged, awkwardly looking down at his pants. "I don't know what to say."

  Had this been one of those ornery black boys back at Hawthorne, Keisha may have just let him off easy, knowing it was a lost cause to get into it with someone who did not want to learn, but since it was someone who was obviously intelligent and showed so much promise, Keisha loathed to just give up.

  "It has to be something," she pressed, glancing at the time. It would only be a few seconds before the classroom would be filled with students for her next class. "Talk to me Mister Palmer."

  Zack let out a heavy sigh. "The truth is Mrs. Johnson, is that I suck at math. My friend Clay Aikman always helps me, practically doing my assignments for me, showing me how to do well on all my stuff.
Well, he recently got a girlfriend and doesn't want to help me anymore, so now I'm finding it hard to put out competent work."

  Keisha sat back in her seat, not sure how to take the news. She knew of Clay Aikman, one of the brightest students in the school in all academic areas. What disturbed her was that Zack was alluding to cheating.

  But she still did not understand how he could have done so well on his tests previously, since they were all different from one another and given out only at the time of the exam, making it nearly impossible to cheat. Something did not add up.

  Whatever the case was, she had little time to question Zack about it to find out what course of action she should take.

  "I need a tutor," Zack suddenly blurted.

  Keisha chuckled at his awkward behavior, lost in her thoughts. "If you want help, I'm here for an hour after school, every day. You can come by anytime during that time and I'll be more than happy to help."

  Students from her next period began to stroll into the room, chattering excitedly. If Zack did not get moving soon, he'd be late for his next period.

  "I don't work well in the school environment," Zack said with an odd look on his face. "It's too stuffy for me."

  "Well I don't know what to tell you," Keisha told him. "I'm here after class every day. If you want my help...you know where to find me." She nodded to the door as she rose to her feet. "Now get going to your next class before you are late."

  Not to mention the trouble you might be in if I go to the principal with how you claim to have been cheating all this time.

  Zack turned as if he was going to leave, then turned back saying, "I'll pay you."

  Keisha froze, shocked that he would even suggest such a thing. "Boy," she said curtly when she could regain her ability to speak, "I'm not about to do something like that."

  She was not sure about the protocols, but common sense told her that she could get in a lot of trouble offering herself as a tutor to one of her own students.

  As far as she knew, it was fine if she tutored someone outside of the school on her own time, though. She was sure somewhere under her contract with the school board there were guidelines concerning such actions.

  "But my dad has loads of money," Zack protested, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked so hopeful that Keisha almost felt sorry for him.

  The classroom was almost filled.

  "I already told you what you could do if you wanted my help," Keisha said sternly, pointing at the door. "Now get on to your next class. I have a class to teach."

  He looked like he wanted to say more, but then he set his strong jaw, turned, and walked from the room.

  Keisha sighed when the studly boy was gone.

  She did not know if she totally believed him about someone else carrying him through math. Homework, she could see cheating on, but not the exams. As her classroom became completely filled, she decided she would have to question him about it later.

  Now it's time to repeat this boring shit all over again...six more times.

  Placing her hands on her hips and facing her students, she said with a fake smile, "Good morning class."

  Chapter 14

  Davonte groaned, grabbing at his head in distress. He was busy pouring over the Johnson's bills at the kitchen table while his kids played on their Playstation in the background.

  He had just got done paying the monthly mortgage and car loans, discovering that they had very little left to cover the rest of their expenses.

  It was a chilly Wednesday. His wife was at work, earning a paycheck. His was deposited just a few days ago and it was sobering to see that it was half the amount that he usually made.

  He needed to find a temporary source of income fast. He'd already pawned a few pieces of his expensive jewelry to help out with the mounting bills and debt. But it was just a short term fix.

  Maybe I can get rid of my car and downgrade, he thought. That would be a good four-hundred back into our pockets.

  Davonte's car, a black Acura TSX, was only half-way paid off, but the note was quite steeply. Cutting that from the budget would cover a lot of the minor expenses.

  "I can't get rid of my baby," he muttered to himself after a moment, shaking his head. "Ain't no way."

  See that's the problem, he thought to himself in irritation. Niggas would rather drive a nice car than fix some of our problems. Our priorities ain't ever straight.

  But even knowing that fact, Davonte wasn't about to part with his car. He had sacrificed and worked too hard to get where he was at. He'd be damned if he gave up one of the few things he had to show for it.

  The sound of his boys arguing over a match in their game brought his attention on their wrestling forms. The little niggas didn't know what real problems was, sitting there arguing over some fantasy shit. But Davonte believed that's how it should be. No child should have to know how stressful it was being an adult until they were of age to understand.

  For a moment, his eyes lingered on the boys' Playstation. If he took that in to the shop he could probably get one-hundred bucks.

  Man, get your act together.

  It sure wasn't worth taking his children's only entertainment, pawning it like some crackhead. Besides, that measly hundred bucks would not fix a damn thing.

  He sighed.

  He needed to relieve some stress bad.

  Closing down his laptop screen, he dug out his cell out of his back pocket and quickly speed-dialed a number.

  "Hello?" answered a soft-spoken voice. Davonte could hear the sound of children in the background.

  Davonte smiled mischievously, staring straight ahead. "The black snake said he wants to play."

  There was a pause. "Does this 'black snake' got some play money?"

  His smile evaporated.

  "Hello?" Maria asked. "You got the money ready? I'll be over there shortly, as usual, if so.

  Pulling the cell away from his ear, the last thing he heard before the line went dead was, "Cheap ass, black bastard."

  He tossed the cell onto the table top, placing his head into his hands for the second time.

  "What the hell am I doing?" he asked himself.

  His sex life was in shambles. He was lying to his wife...and it was only a matter of time before he would be forced to reveal their dire situation to Keisha. The bad thing about the whole thing was that the financial problems had started long before Davonte's work hours had gotten cut back.

  He needed to somehow let Keisha know everything without it resulting in their divorce. The problem was; he did not know any way he could reveal the fact that he'd been cheating on her as well as squabbling away their finances, without alienating her.

  Above all else, he wanted help.

  He did not want to split from his wife. She deserved much better than how he'd been acting. Maybe if he had paid more attention to her wants and needs, maybe she would not have gotten so sick of the sex.

  A sharp cry from one his boys brought his attention back to their wrestling forms.

  "You little niggas cut it out!" he shouted at them, causing them to freeze like rats in a cheese trap. Then he lowered his voice and softened his tone. "Daddy don't wanna see y'all hurt each other. It ain't worth hurting your brother over no damn video game."

  The boys jumped off each other and went back to playing their game with a quickness.

  After a while of sitting there, Davonte decided that he would have to relieve his stress in another way. He hadn't been in a while and it would do him some good. Getting up from the table, he went upstairs to get into a change of clothes.

  Thirty minutes later, he was at the local gym several blocks from his house, running on a treadmill in some sweats and a t-shirt. His boys were beside him on adjacent machine, their little feet keeping up with the much slower track.

  He wasn't on the machine long before an attractive blonde woman showed up and began using the machine to his left. She was wearing tight, spandex pants that was showing major camel toe with a cut-off tube top tha
t showed off her firm midsection and large breasts.

  She smiled at Davonte as she stepped on the machine, clearly attracted to the handsome light-skinned man and his green eyes.

  "Hey," she said, her light perfume that she probably used to conceal the smell of her sweat hitting Davonte's nostrils.

  Nigga don't even look.

  "Hey," Davonte replied, keeping his eyes level with the woman's face.

  "Are you from around here?" the woman asked.

  Davonte nodded. "Live in Mayberry, several blocks from here."

  She nodded at his boys with a bright smile. "Your kids are adorable...and look just like you."

  "Thanks," Davonte said.

  Bitch will you just go on about your business.

  The woman continued to make conversation with him, all but asking him for his phone number. But it's when she started the machine and began running that Davonte had a problem.

  Though he was looking forward, her large tits bounced in his peripheral vision, bringing with it images of he and Maria having sex. It wasn't long before Davonte felt his internal heat building and his eyes straying to the white woman's tight ass.

  Damn.

  After about a minute of this, he abruptly jumped off his machine and grabbed his boys. The woman asked where he was going, clearly disappointed, and Davonte responded with he was going to lift weights.

  He didn't give her a chance to respond, taking his kids to the bean bags in front of the gym's wall-long mirror. After he made sure they were going to stay put, he went over to the weight-lifting area and began bench pressing.

  Then he lifted weights for the next twenty minutes, exercising the temptation out of his veins. By the time he was done, he was covered in sweat from head to toe and felt much better.

  That's when Davonte's cell went off in his pocket.

  Wiping the sweat from his brow, he quickly pulled it out, thinking it was Maria calling to say she was at the house waiting to get that ass waxed.

  Instead, it was just an automated reminder he had set to show up at the same time every year. After staring at the message for a moment, he set the cell back into his pocket.