by Vera Roberts
“So who are your favorite bands?” I ask to change the mood from horny to conversational.
“Gosh, so many.” Savior shakes his head. “Marvin Gaye, O’Jays, Commodores, Temptations, and Chaka Khan and Rufus. Those are in my 70’s playlist. Then I have bands in the 80’s like New Edition and the Force MD’s. And then we move onto the 90’s where I have Jodeci, Boyz II Men, Keith Sweat, and many others.” He rattles off a few more bands and I have to say, I’m quite impressed by his tastes. His collection is a lot more expansive than mine. I have mostly trap music in my collection with a few oldies courtesy of my daddy. A lot of these bands Savior is naming, I can honestly say I have faintly heard of.
“What about you?” He asks me. “What do you like? I know you like Chris Brown and Dave East. Any others?”
“I’ve heard a few of the bands you’ve mentioned but I listen to a lot of current stuff.” Though, my current stuff is pretty wack compared to what Savior listens to. No wonder everyone complains about mumble rappers and trap music. You could actually understand what someone talked about back in the day. “Migos, Future, Cardi B., to name a few.”
Savior nods. “They’re pretty good. Not my cup of tea but I don’t knock anyone’s tastes in music. I listen to some crazy stuff myself.”
“What’s crazy about LSG?” I chuckle. “Other than you listen to it.”
“Well, that’s not all. I love Hozier and John Mayer. I can dig some Ed Sheeran.” He smiles. “They’re great to research cases to.”
“There you go,” I chuckle.
Savior grabs my hand and places a soft kiss on it. “Have you heard anything from Andrea about last night?”
“I haven’t heard from her nor do I expect to. I did find out I’m all over the blogs.” Which is not a surprise. Witnesses from last night’s kerfuffle gossiped about what they saw. Everyone said the same thing – Andrea mouthed off to me, I was crying, she forcibly grabbed my face, and I gladly punched hers in.
It’s not something I’m proud of. If anything, I’m quite ashamed of what transpired last night. I never thought Andrea and I would get into a physical fight nor did I think she would say those horrible things to me.
Our relationship is irrevocably broken and I doubt I would ever hear from her again. I took the liberty of deleting all of my social media pages so nobody has to wonder what I’m doing or why I’m acting brand-new. If there’s not a reason to gossip, people won’t pay attention.
That wasn’t the only reason why I deleted all of my pages. When people found out where the fight took place, Savior’s name naturally came up. No one made the connection he was my boyfriend but the whispers already started. Eyewitnesses confirmed they saw us together.
Savior and his family may not care about what black gossip blogs say about them, but I’m pretty sure they care about what the society pages think of them. It’s one thing to be black famous; it’s an entirely different ball game when you’re legit famous.
“Do you really want to risk your reputation just to be with me?” I ask. “People have started to make the connection between us.”
“So.” he replies.
I incredulously look at him. “So? Savior, you may not care about how it looks but I do. I know how people gossip in high society. Sure, they act like they don’t care but then they won’t give you any clients. They won’t send any cleaning ladies to your home.”
Savior chuckles and I feel that deep rumble down to my punani again. We just had sex and I want him again. “Gorgeous, if any of that was true, no one would have clean homes and no one would be rich.”
“But you have to care about your family’s reputation?” I push. “Everyone knows the contribution your parents made to the Civil Rights Movement. Gossip bloggers already said how your family went from classy to ashy based on that fight.”
Savior’s face looks amused. I don’t know why he’s so amused by any of this. I’m horrified and he’s acting like it’s another day in his life. What in the Caucasian hell?
“Keisha…” he turns a corner, “what did my mother tell you about her marriage to my father?”
The mistresses. The Little League game. The constant reference to Thomas as her ex, though there was no record of a divorce. “He wasn’t a good husband and not really a good father.”
Savior confirms his mother’s report. “It’s an open secret about my father’s affairs. He was on the road a lot, traveling and fighting for equality and freedom for everyone. When people hear about the Civil Rights Movement, they naturally think of the 1960s. What they don’t think about how it’s still active today. Redlining, not being hired because of your ethnic name, being paid less simply because of your race and gender, loan sharks in the form of payday and online loan scammers that specifically target minorities. We may not be singing We Shall Overcome, but there’s a lot of work that needs to be done. That’s where my father comes in.
“Whenever there’s a police shooting, he gets the call first. Whenever there’s discrimination, he’s the first one that knows about it. My father will find all of this out before there’s even a press conference, before there’s a viral video. He doesn’t seek it. People tell him what’s going on and he uses his discretion on whether it’s something he wants to pursue.
“While my father was everyone’s champion, he was never home. He used to be gone for days at a time. Then it became weeks. Soon, it was months. Then, we only saw him on major holidays. A marriage can’t survive on that. My mother was also gone a lot fighting for women’s rights and she still travels quite a bit. The difference between the two was my mother was never gone more than a weekend.
“My mother isn’t innocent, neither. She’s had her fair share of lovers and I’ve met quite a few of them. Some even helped me with homework and took me out for ice cream.” He gives a sad smile. “That’s when I knew how dysfunctional their relationship was and how I would never want to have one like it.
“My parents never officially divorced but they’ve been separated for quite some time. They announced the separation about 10 years ago and neither of them have actually filed for divorce, nor do I think they ever will. They still live on the same property, just in different wings of the home. Their home is big enough where they can be there every day of the year and still not bother each other at any given time.”
He pulls into a parking garage and parks the car. He unbuckles his seat belt and turns to me. “So, while you’re concerned about my association with you, trust me, with my family history, you’re actually small potatoes.”
Seventeen
After a day of shopping with Savior, I finally make my way back to Inglewood. He wanted me to spend the night with him, and the offer was tempting, but I told him I need to go home and check on everything. While Junie and Tasha went home by themselves, they also had to potentially fend off any nosy whispers and gossip.
I know Junie wouldn’t indulge but Tasha…I never can tell. I don’t think she’ll sell me out to the highest bidder but I also know if she needs some new hair, she wouldn’t hesitate to let the Shade Room know what my sleeping position is at night.
I park my car and head inside. I left all of my purchases at Savior’s home because I couldn’t see the point of bringing an expensive gown with me, only to transport it back to Bel-Air.
Arriving in Inglewood, it’s already a noticeable difference. Bel-Air is quiet, like no neighbor wants to disturb the other. Everyone is so closed in, you could barely hear the cars going down the shared streets. There’s no snooping or peeping into someone’s home, because everyone’s home is gated with ten-foot tall walls.
In Inglewood, one can hear loud music, loud talking, and laughter almost on every other corner. Of course, the opposite is also true – loud fighting, the gunshots, and screeching tires.
It’s a weird, indescribable feeling – I felt free in Bel-Air but I felt at home in Inglewood. But I know I can’t have both, nor would I want both. I have to make a choice. Savior might come to spend the night with
me occasionally in Inglewood, but he’s made it clear he won’t live here when he has his own home.
I’m dying to leave Inglewood, but I’m afraid of showing up as a regular resident of Bel-Air. How long will it be before someone mistakes me for someone or something else, and the police are called on me? How long will it be before I’m followed until they realize I live there?
How long will it be before I’m quietly forced out because they do not want me there no matter who my boyfriend is?
I can’t worry about any of that. I’m exhausted and I need a nap. As I make my way back to my room, I dream of Savior and crave his touch on me again. It’ll be a long 24 hours not seeing him, but I know it’ll be worth it. I miss him already.
~~~~~
It’s already nighttime when I finally wake up. I slept until eight and I’m wide awake now. I stretch my arms and try to gather my bearings as I figure out what I’m going to eat for dinner and maybe check out a Netflix movie to kill the time.
As I make my way out of the bedroom, I see the living room lights are on. Clearly, Tasha and Junie are home. I head to the bathroom and once I’m finished with my business, I go out into the living room. I’m floored to see dozens upon dozens of roses everywhere. My heart warms because Savior is unbelievably romantic. Each time I think he’ll do one thing, he tops it again.
I love me some him.
Love? Okay. Maybe not love. It’s too soon for love. I can admit I like ol’ dude. I can admit I’m falling for him. But love him? Nah. You don’t fall in love with someone after a week. It just doesn’t happen.
“Hey,” Tasha blows out a plume of smoke and offers me a hit. I respectfully decline. I don’t know how this girl stays high and functioning all of the time. Getting high must be an Olympic sport. “Those came in for you.”
“Really?” I look around for a card and don’t see one. “Was there a card?”
“Oh yeah,” Tasha grabs it from the couch where she’s sitting, “here you go.”
I snatch the card away from her and shake my head. Leave it to Tasha to get herself involved in some shit that really has nothing to do with her. I need to get that bitch a hobby or something. “You’re so damn messy.”
“You love me anyway.” She blows a kiss.
“Sometimes.” I open the card and my eyes are trying so hard not to roll back. Savior didn’t send me any of these roses; Jalen did.
A fuckboy who told me he wasn’t going to settle down, and that I’m in his Top Five (of women, not music or anything else important), and how he said some pretty awful things about my association with Savior, just sent me about four dozen roses. I miss you, baby, the card reads.
I would call up Jalen and tell him how I really feel but I conveniently erased his phone number. Whoopsie. “Why did this Negro do this?”
“He heard about the fight with Andrea.” Junie chimes in. “The whole neighborhood has been talking about it for the past day. People wish there was video.”
I’m so confused and Tasha’s explanation doesn’t help. “So, he sent me flowers because…?”
“Word around the street was Jalen is the one who sold King J the drugs. King J is still locked up but word is he’s singing like a canary. If he rats out Jalen, it’s game over for him.”
“So, he’s hoping if he starts showing me affection again, I’ll somehow protect him because of my daddy?” Men are so damn transparent, it’s ridiculous. “No, thank you. He has a harem of women he can go to.”
“But you got that juice,” SoundCloud nods. “You’re the one that can help him.”
“Which is the reason why he got with me to begin with.” The sad realization has always been there. Nothing like the feeling of discovering a nigga used me because of who my father is. Jalen never has and never will care about me the same way I did for him. I wonder if Savior felt the same with his dates.
The anger is starting to bubble a little and I blow out a harsh breath. Things can only get worse before they get better. “What else is new?”
“You’re the trending topic. Andrea’s been on a roll, calling you every name she can on social media. I think you inadvertently gave her a storyline for next season.” Tasha reveals with a frown. “A lot of people have been defending you, though. Many people said Andrea deserved to get her ass whupped.”
“Well, I’m not proud of that.” I shake my head. I never thought in a million years I would get into a fight with my mother and here I am, trending topic amongst the Love and Hip-Hop crowd. Some people would love to be in my position and I actually loathe it.
“Gloria’s been asking about your whereabouts. We told her we didn’t know where you were. She wants to speak to you as well.” Tasha replies.
There’s another reason why Gloria and I don’t have a good relationship. She’s always liked Andrea and they’re still close to this day. Whatever ill feelings Gloria has, I don’t doubt have come indirectly from Andrea. “Of course she does. She likes Andrea.” I shrug. I’m starting to feel a little heat on me and I know this weekend will not turn out as I planned if I stay here. “I’m going to head out. Just get away for a few days.”
“Going to Savior’s?” SoundCloud asks.
“I don’t know yet. Not sure how badly he wants me there as an overnight guest for several days.” I take out my Android with the cracked screen and text Savior, asking him if the offer to spend the night with him was still on the table.
I get an instant reply: You can stay anytime you want, gorgeous. See you soon.
~~~~~~
After Savior texted me his address and gate code, I headed towards his way. I packed an overnight bag full of clothing and a toothbrush. I also packed a razor and shaving cream because I doubt I would have time to see Charlene to get my head shaved so I’ll have to do it myself and hope I don’t cut my head.
As Chloe and Halle serenaded me, I wonder if everything going on is a sign that maybe it’s time for me to move out of Inglewood. It seems there’s more drama each time I go back home and if I’m trying to do better for myself, I’m going have to leave some people behind.
Not that I’m anxious to go live with Savior. For one, it’s too soon for us to be living together and even I’m side-eyeing us spending the night so often so soon. It’s not that I feel uncomfortable in Bel-Air but I’m not quite sure if I feel right on home, neither. I do know wherever I end up, there won’t be a question as to if I fit in.
The thought of leaving L.A. has become louder with each passing day. There’s still a lot I can do here but I want to explore the world and see what happens. Maybe I might find my home in Italy or maybe even Atlanta. Maybe I’ll realize L.A. was always where I was supposed to be.
I can only find out.
As I pull up to the cobblestone driveway, Savior walks out to greet me. I park the SUV and he opens the driver’s door. “There’s my gorgeous,” he greets me with a sensual kiss. “How was the drive, baby?”
“Better now that I’m here.” I unbuckle and Savior takes out my overnight bag before he leads me inside. “I brought over enough clothing for the weekend, if that’s okay?”
“That’s perfect,” he leads us upstairs to his bedroom and sets the bag down on a chaise lounge. Savior’s bedroom looks so amazing at night. The dulce de leche walls illuminate with sconces and I see the illuminated indigo pool right outside the sliding door. The four-poster California King bed is prominent.
“Are you hungry, baby?” He asks.
“Yeah, didn’t eat much.” I reply. The drama back in Inglewood forced me not to eat. At least I know Andrea would be happy. The thought of having a daughter who was heavier than her is the worse thing.
“Follow me,” he leads me out of the bedroom and we walk down to the kitchen. Savior’s kitchen is roughly the size of my living room, dining room, and kitchen. All of the cabinetry is white and custom-made, with an added refrigerator just for wines.
All of the gadgets look expensive and state of the art, and I’m sure a few of them are in the fo
ur figures. There’s a massive skylight in the ceiling that shines down on Savior in the kitchen, giving him a sent by God feel.
There are two ovens in addition to the two islands. The leather seats have an adjustable height so I don’t feel so short looking at him as he prepares dinner. He seems a bit of an expert in the kitchen, opening and closing various cabinets with such ease, as if he knows where everything is. I’ve heard of some rich people having so much excess, they didn’t know how their refrigerator operated.
“Vegan fajitas?” He asks. “We’ll probably have steak for dinner tomorrow at the gala.”
“Sure.” I’ve had a little vegan food and it was pretty good, I have to admit. Whenever I got sick, Tasha made sure all I ate was vegan and vegetarian so I didn’t clog up my system with even more crap. I have to give her high ass some credit; I felt better within days.
Savior whips up the dish in record time and we’re eating vegan fajitas in quiet calmness. We don’t talk about anything; we just enjoy our food. Afterward, Savior takes our plates and cleans up, while I go out into the balcony and look up at the stars.
I think about everything that has transpired within the last week and I wonder about many things. Andrea. My daddy. My home. Savior. Over a week ago, I never dreamed I would be at some rich dude’s home and looking up at the stars. Now I’m standing in a home worth millions, with the same rich dude who’s now my boyfriend, and my life can only go up from here.
I need to start looking at colleges and applying. Hopefully, the late admission fee won’t kick my ass too much. As much as I would love to say I wanted to get the hell out of L.A., every university I’m looking at is here: USC, Loyola Marymount, and UC Riverside.
A weird sadness placates across my chest as I think about the future. Savior probably won’t be in it. For one, I don’t see him waiting for me like he promised. Two, after I graduate from college and maybe go to law school, we won’t see each other. I’ll be too busy studying and he’ll be too busy with cases to care. It just wouldn’t work.
