Mr. Wright & Mr. Wrong: A BWWM Romance

by Camilla Stevens

“Never find another job,” she mused.

  “Totally ostracized.”

  “Lose all of his friends.”

  “Have little old ladies on the street hit him over the head with their handbags.”

  London laughed and joined in. “Attacked by clowns.”

  “End up with two lemon Starbursts in those little fun-sized packs.”

  “Whoa, whoa, let’s not get totally sadistic,” she said.

  “Yeah, I think that does kind of cross the line.”

  “How about we talk about something else? I’ve kind of had my fill of Clayton Moore,” she said.

  “Sounds good to me,” he responded. “So what are we going to talk about then?”

  “How about, how I’m going to repay you for this weekend,” she responded.

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “Since you came up to see me, maybe I can come see you tonight.”

  There was a pause as he took in the implications of that. “Are you sure? Not worried about the Davis Campaign, now that they’ve just taken you back?”

  “Not even a little bit,” she said bitterly. “If they have a problem with it, they can take it up with me.”

  “And your dad?”

  “He’ll get used to it,” she sighed. “I don’t think he’s particularly fond of your father, but I’m sure you’ll win him over.”

  “Well it helps that we have one thing in common,” he laughed. “As long as you’re okay with it, I look forward to it. We can finally put an end to this sneaking around in hotels.”

  “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That was kind of fun.”

  “Hmm, yeah it was. But for tonight, I guess this means I have to hide my collection of My Little Ponies.”

  She laughed. “So, I’ll see you at 8?”

  “It’s a date,” he said.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  For once London was glad Cleveland was late as usual to the Monday morning Strategy Session with their dad.

  Right now Frank was looking at the latest New York Post's witty headline. It was about Richard Wright. These days, it was often about Richard Wright, who at this point might as well have his foot permanently attached to the inside of his mouth.

  “’Wright People Problems’” he repeated to her for the third time, struggling to keep his laughter under control. London had read the article and had a small chuckle over it. It was about Richard Wright’s inability to connect with the “common folk” having just lately suggested that perhaps corporations should be allowed to vote in elections, seeing as how “they are people, after all.”

  "At this rate, we won't even have to work to get Dion Davis elected. Wright is doing all the work for us."

  A sobering thought. But it was as good a segue as any.

  "Speaking of the Wrights, Daddy," she began.

  "Yes, yes, I know Brooklyn is still dating that Alex," he sighed. "I can't say I'm thrilled. Let's hope he's nothing like his father.”

  "He seems nice enough." London really didn't have much to go on to make such a claim, but putting him in a good light could only bode well for bringing up Michael.

  Frank gave his daughter a doubtful look, then sighed. "Ah well, she always was one to....date out."

  "She's dated black men before and you know it." London chided.

  "Yet, here she is with a Wright."

  "What is your problem with the Wrights?" she asked, now truly curious.

  “Let’s start with the main one, Richard Wright. He is the antithesis of everything I stand for. Do you think a black man, like me, could get away with having, not one, but 4 different wives? And all as a result of him not being able to keep it in his pants!

  "And these ridiculous, ludicrous comments he makes in public. Sometimes I wonder if he's just pulling the wool over all of us.

  “Reputation is everything for people like us”—he saw the look she gave him—“and yes, by people like us I mean black people. Sure, some folks can get away with it, like those rappers and whatnot. But we have to hold ourselves to a higher standard.”

  "So you have nothing against his sons then?" she prodded, deciding to get back on track.

  "Well, I don't know them personally, do I?" he responded matter-of-factly. He gave her a piercing look. "What exactly are you getting at here, London?"

  No time like the present.

  "I'm dating Michael Wright," she spat out. She almost cringed, waiting for his reaction, before she remembered she had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. She straightened up in her chair, and looked him head on.

  She was surprised to find him looking at her with perfect frankness. He finally sighed. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

  Which was surprising to London.

  "After Clayton…it makes sense that you would go that route."

  Which ruffled her feathers a bit.

  "What do you mean by 'go that route’?” she asked, her jaw tightening.

  "Try something a bit different? Sow the oats you never got a chance to in college? Get it out of your system?"

  "This isn't some experimental phase, Daddy," she retorted. "I really like him—love him actually! And I’m sure he feels the same way. We work well together. In the few weeks that we’ve been dating”—she ignored his look of perturbed surprise—“he’s made me feel more special than Clayton did in ten years of dating.”

  He took a moment to look at her. “And this potential scandal with his father? That doesn’t at all concern you? It could be far worse than we even imagine. Like I said, London we have a reputation to uphold.”

  She looked him dead in the eye. “Michael didn’t flinch, not once, when we were being dragged through the mud. He stood right by my side and was there for me 100%. Whatever his father is up to, I’ll be there for him 100% as well.”

  She decided to go one step further. “Did you know he had every opportunity to tell his dad about our little scandal before it came out? But he didn’t.”

  “He knew about it? How?” Her father saw her face and sighed. “Never mind, I guess I don’t want to know.

  “I suppose I learned my lesson with Brooklyn,” he said with resignation. “It would do me no use to push back on this.”

  “I just don’t understand why you would in the first place,” she argued. “I’ve finally found a good man, a perfect man. So what if he’s white? So what if he’s a Wright? You should be happy for me.”

  He gave her a soft smile. “You’re right baby girl,” he conceded. “From what you tell me so far he seems…satisfactory. More importantly, I trust your judgement.”

  “I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get from you right now, isn’t it?” she said with a wry smile.

  “Like I said, I don’t know the man yet,” he countered.

  “So…” she pondered out loud, “maybe your anniversary party is a good way to introduce him?”

  He gave her a look of consternation. “Now I didn’t say all that—

  “I’m allowed to bring a date right?”

  “It’s a family function—

  “It’s 100 people! Half of whom you only invited to network with!”

  “Exactly! And you want to bring a Wright!”

  “One of the good ones.”

  “A Wright.”

  “The best one.”

  He pressed his lips together and frowned at his daughter. She just gave him a placating smile in return. Finally he shook his head and sighed, knowing he’d been beat.

  His eyes lit up with a new thought. “Just in case you get any ideas, we are not changing the name of this firm to Jefferson, Jefferson, and White!”

  “White?” London replied, with a puzzled look.

  “Wright,” he said, realizing his slip. “Wright. White. Either way…It’s three Jeffersons.”

  “Okay, daddy,” she said with a placating smile. She certainly hadn’t been thinking that far ahead. She’d cross that bridge when she came to it. Mrs. Wright. Mrs. London Wright.

  It sounded
so very wright. Or right. Either way…it sounded perfect.

  Epilogue

  “You didn’t have to come you know,” Brooklyn said.

  Alex took her hand as they made their way up the steps to the banquet hall. There was no witty comeback as usual. He just looked at her and smiled, “No, but I wanted to.”

  Brooklyn smiled back at him and squeezed his hand. He looked particularly dapper in a dark gray, slim-fitting, suit and tie for once. One could almost mistake him for a gentleman.

  She was wearing a long black, floor-length dress made of black chiffon that cinched at the waist and had a high neckline that tied together with a thin bow in back. She had somehow managed to gather her thick mass of natural curls into a side bun at the nape of her neck. Two long, gold chandelier earrings hung from her ears.

  They were a very attractive couple.

  “Are you nervous?” London asked, looking over at Michael in the taxi cab.

  He was wearing a well-tailored, black suit and a dark purple tie to somewhat match the colors of the Anniversary Party, which she thought was a particularly sweet touch. It didn’t hurt that he wore it so well.

  She was wearing a simple black strapless dress that had a knee-length pencil skirt. Her hair was in the usual chignon she put it in for formal occasions. Michael loved it since it exposed her lovely neck.

  The only jewelry she wore were two diamond studs in her ears. It was simple and elegant.

  He looked over at her and grinned. “Do you think my natural wit and charm will be enough, or should I have had a couple of jokes on hand.”

  She laughed. “I think you two are probably more alike than you realize. But don’t worry,” she said leaning in to kiss that slightly dented nose of his, “I’ll be there to hold your hand. All night long if you want.”

  They reached their destination and Michael got out first, reaching in to take her hand. As they walked, arm in arm, into the banquet hall, people passing by paused to stare at the two of them.

  They were a very attractive couple.

  Inside, Brooklyn and Alex ran into her mother’s sister Alnita and her husband, Ward. Alnita was wearing a cotton candy pink dress suit and Ward had on a dark purple suit. Alnita was practically a mirror image of her older sister, Brooklyn’s mother, with the same green eyes and light hair…but a complete 180 in terms of personality. Whereas Estelle was usually contemplative and frugal with her words, Alnita had no problem expressing her thoughts out loud.

  “Oh Brooklyn, don’t you look gorgeous!” she sang out, grabbing her shoulders and giving her air kisses on either side of her face, “And who’s this handsome thing next to you?” she said tapping Alex’s chest lightly.

  “This is Alex, my…” she paused, wondering how to finish that thought. This would be the first time she actually introduced him.

  “Boyfriend,” he finished for her, taking Alnita’s hand and kissing the back of it.

  “Mmmmm,” her aunt hummed, giving him a fresh look. “Aren’t you something! Brooklyn went and got herself a Clooney, Ward.”

  Ward was the calm to Alnita’s storm of a personality and he just smiled and nodded.

  “I love the outfits,” Brooklyn said, taking particular note of Ward’s purple that she had no doubt was the brainchild of her aunt.

  “You know we sisters,”—she turned to pat Ward on the chest—“and brothers, all gotta represent,” she said, waving her hands dramatically. She gave Brooklyn a scornful smirk. “Of course somebody went to a school where she couldn’t pledge.”

  “Yes,” Brooklyn sighed. “It’s something I’ve always regretted.”

  Her aunt pursed her lips, though not without humor. “Speaking of which, where is that sister of yours. At least somebody in this family believes in keeping tradition alive.”

  “I think I saw her come in behind us,” she said pointing toward the door, more than happy to pull Alex away from this rather glaring introduction to her family.

  “Ohhh, I think I see Cleve and his boys!” Alnita said, grabbing Ward by the arm. “Your auntie has some cheeks she needs to pinch!”

  With that they took off, leaving Brooklyn shaking her head in embarrassment and Alex grinning with amusement.

  “What’s with the purple suit?” he asked with a grin

  “Omega frat, AKA sorority,” she sighed. “Please don’t ask me to explain any more than that.”

  He laughed. “It actually kinda works. I liked it.”

  “Oh my god,” Brooklyn laughed. “Please don’t let my aunt hear you say that. Poor Ward has it bad enough. You should see their house.”

  “These are my cousins Raquel and Nicole,” London said, introducing Michael to Alnita and Ward’s daughters. She knew Nicole was getting her MBA and she had heard Raquel was working at some fashion magazine these days, but the name was lost on her.

  Both in their mid-twenties they fell in age right between London and Brooklyn. They had both inherited more of their mother’s genes than the two Jefferson girls had and were thus, quite stunning. London, gauged Michael’s reaction as he took one hand and then the other. She was pleased—and a wee bit ashamed of herself—to see that he reflected nothing more than polite interest.

  Her two cousins on the other hand, seemed quite smitten.

  “Are you that Michael Wright?” Nicole asked with an amused smile. “Richard Wright’s son?”

  “Guilty as charged,” he said with a wicked grin.

  “Those are some impressive shoes,” London said, trying to move the topic of discussion around to something a little less problematic. She looked down at Raquel’s, truly impressive, pair of heels.

  “You like?” Raquel said, bending one kneed to show off the iridescent butterfly wings jutting from the back of the black, suede heels. “Sophia Webster. So amazing,” she gushed, closing her eyes as though in prayer.

  “It is amazing,” London, mused, taking them in.

  “Well, we should probably find my parents. It’s good to see you two again,” she said, making her way to the table near the front.

  The two Jefferson women and Wright men had found each other and formed a nice little, slightly awkward foursome.

  “Alex,” Michael said, somewhat impressed to see his little brother as someone’s plus one. He’d have to rethink his opinion of Alex, it seemed.

  “Michael,” Alex said, grinning, mostly at the coincidental nature of this group. He supposed at some point he’d have to take his older brother out for a drink to thank him. If it wasn’t for him, Brooklyn wouldn’t be standing by his side right now. On the other hand, Brooklyn had laughingly told him about the mix up with her sister and Michael. So, judging by the way Michael was looking down at London, it seemed that maybe a drink was owed both ways.

  London and Brooklyn, having a slightly tighter sibling connection just smiled with amusement at one another. In the back of each of their minds, they were wondering what their father would make of this situation.

  It didn’t take long for their curiosity to be sated.

  “Well, well, well,” they heard Frank Jefferson’s booming voice ring out.

  All four turned to see Frank walking over with Estelle by his side. His face was a mixture of consternation and resignation. They all knew this moment was coming.

  “Isn’t this an auspicious little grouping,” he said, eyeing each of the Wright brothers suspiciously.

  “Daddy, this is—” both London and Brooklyn began at the same time, both wanting to introduce their beaus. They looked at each other and laughed.

  Everyone, even Estelle, joined in, with the exception of one man who didn’t see what was so amusing about the situation.

  “No need for introductions,” Frank said. “I know exactly who these two are. I must admit, I wasn’t too pleased when I learned both”—he gave London a specific look—“of my daughters were dating a Wright.”

  He took a moment to close his eyes and sigh, as if to recover from the statement he had just made. Everyone waited while they
suppressed their smiles.

  “But!” he rang out, startling them all, as he opened his eyes. “Over the past few weeks, I’ve seen a change in both my daughters for the better. So, I suppose I have both of you to thank for that.”

  Everyone looked at each other, stunned.

  “I certainly hope they continue to be as happy as they are now,” he said, looking directly at each Wright brother in turn.

  “Yes, sir,” they both said at the same time, causing everyone, even Frank, to laugh again.

  “What’s so funny and you all leave grandma out of the loop?” they all heard a voice say from a few feet away.

  Lucille was walking over toward them, Brooklyn’s purple wig (her new favorite) on display, still much to the consternation of Frank Jefferson.

  “Well, look at this,” she said, lips pursed as she eyed the two Wright-Jefferson couples. “It seems there’s been a lot going on between Church Sundays.”

  She started with Brooklyn and Alex. “I suppose this is your friend with the Town Car,” she said looking him up and down. She turned to Booklyn, “I can see why you wanted to keep him secret. Afraid grandma might steal this one from you?” she said, giving her granddaughter a wink.

  “Mama!” Frank cried.

  Brooklyn and Alex just covered their mouths trying not to break out in laughter.

  “Oh hush, son,” she said, waving a hand at him. “you know your mama doesn’t have that kind of stamina anymore.”

  “Mama!” he cried even louder.

  By this time, everyone was holding their laughter in.

  “And London,” she said, turning to her other granddaughter. “You finally saw the light…and my what a light it is.” She gave Michael the same once over. “I never liked that Clayton you know. He had small eyes. Never trust a man with small eyes.”

  London wasn’t sure what to do with that one, but she was pleased her grandmother approved.

  “Now, Frank, you and Estelle go and mingle with your guests. Grandma’s going to sit down with her granddaughters and their two gentlemen and find out what’s what.”