“Why don’t you like her?”
“She’s not the right woman for you.”
It never mattered how good I made Becky sound. Mom always compared her to Gabby, and she paled in comparison in her eyes.
“Baby, help me understand something. I just don’t get it,” Mom said.
I sighed. I knew where this was going. “Mama—”
“I raised you and Simone to value black families.”
“Mama—”
“Don’t ‘Mama’ me. Let me speak. When parents are raising their children, they envision their kids will find prospective mates that will resemble them. As a parent, you picture who your son brings home as a reflection of yourself, but that isn’t the case with you and Simone. Both of you are sleeping with white people, people who don’t resemble your father or me, and it just ... feels like rejection. It makes me feel that, as black parents, we weren’t good enough, strong enough, or smart enough for either of you, so it caused the two of you to look outside of your race.”
“Mama, that’s not true,” I said. “You’re the strongest woman I know. I love you and admire you more than anyone.”
“Then why are you with Rebecca? You have a strong black woman in Gabby. She’s beautiful. She’s smart, she’s successful—she’s everything that your white woman isn’t. How could you pass up on having a strong partner for a weak one?”
“Mama, you and Dad taught me to see the person and not the skin,” I said. “You raised me to know that people shouldn’t be judged by their skin color, but for their hearts and actions. Gabby is more successful than Becky, but Becky has a lot of similarities with you.”
Mom sulked. “Yeah, right. I highly doubt I have anything in common with that ... that woman.”
“You’re both determined to try to prove everyone wrong, even when the world is against you.”
Mama tried to hide a slight grin.
“You’re both confident that when you apply yourself, you can achieve anything.”
“What else?”
“Behind all of your strengths, you’re both sensitive, loving, and nurturing. I watch how you take care of Dad—even when he doesn’t ask you for anything, you like to take care of him.”
“Your father gives me the world,” Mom said. “It’s only natural I’d enjoy taking care of my king.”
“Becky has that same mind-set, Mom. I know she can be a little naive and seem spoiled, but she’s a great person who gives me the same love you show Dad.”
Mom nodded.
“You’d see that if you would just give her a chance. I know you love Gabby. She’ll always be my friend, but that’s where my relationship with her ends. I love Becky, and I need you to give her the same love and respect that you give Gabby.”
“I’ll try, Ben, but it does bother me that she’s white.”
Chapter 20
Becky
Damaged
“What’s got you acting all pissy?” Simone asked.
Simone and I were hanging out in my living room. She was flipping through channels while I groaned at what I just read after checking the mail.
“I got another rejection letter from a publisher. I’m getting these daily at this point.”
“What do those pretentious dickheads know anyway? People love your column in Cosmo. Just ask your dad to pull some strings with his contacts and get published already. Once your book is out, I’m sure it’ll be a bestseller.”
I crumpled up the letter and threw it in the garbage can. It had been a month since I submitted my latest rewritten manuscript to this particular publisher. In my eyes, it was perfect, and there was nothing I could add that would improve the story any more than it was, but I guessed wrong. Each rejection crushed me, but no matter how much I wanted to just give up and say, “fuck it,” I couldn’t. This book meant too much to me. I wanted this book to show the world how special and beautiful my relationship with Ben was. I wanted to prove to everyone that I could do this on my own and become a successful bestselling author without anyone’s help. Most importantly, I needed to prove it to myself. I opened my laptop that was sitting on the coffee table and tinkered with my manuscript.
“Look, I don’t want to see you stressed out all night,” Simone said. “Ben’s gonna come home and be lost in his annoying case all night. Why don’t you call Brooke, and the three of us go clubbing? We can dance and get shitfaced drunk. Besides, we’re way overdue for a girls’ night out.”
I laughed. “I hate going clubbing with you two. You guys always end up abandoning me to go home with guys you met at the end of the night.”
“Thanks for making us sound like hoes. Come on. It’ll be fun.”
I closed my laptop and texted Ben to let him know I was heading out with Simone. I needed a night to clear my head.
“Cool, let’s go,” I said.
* * *
We went to the B66 Club in Brooklyn. For the most part, Simone wasn’t as flirty as she usually was, but she was still getting a lot of attention from white men. She was sitting at the bar talking with a cute guy in a light gray suit. Brooke was jealous.
“I just don’t get why every guy here is all over her,” she pouted.
“Guys have been hitting on you all night too. Relax.”
“Yeah, the ugly ones. It’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair?” I asked.
“How easy she has it because she’s black.”
I didn’t like her answer. She sounded like my dad.
“Trust me, her life is far from easy,” I said.
“She’s an unemployed college dropout that’s babied by her rich aunt and uncle. Sounds pretty easy to me. Sure, you and I have trust funds, and our parents do a lot for us, but we also work and make our own money. You’re even working on publishing a book—what is she doing with her life? It’s just not fair that the pretty black girl gets all the attention while pretty white girls like me, who deserve to be with these rich white men, get shafted.”
“I think your drinks are speaking for you tonight.”
Brooke took a long sip of her mojito. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just tired of her only getting fucked by these guys when they could be my potential husband.”
“Every time we hang out, you leave with a guy too.”
“I get the consolation prizes while the quality guys look at her as some easy ho they can fuck ... just like her mother.”
“What’s wrong with you tonight?”
Brooke kept glaring at Simone. “It doesn’t make you mad that we work hard, yet this unemployed bum has a better wardrobe than us?”
“She’s our friend,” I said. “We shop together at the same stores. You could buy the same clothes she has. Our dads paid for ours. Her uncle paid for hers. What does it matter?”
“Why do you always defend her?”
“Because she’s our friend, and you sound really fucking racist right now.”
“And what if I am?” Brooke said. “Just because you’re fucking one, don’t act all high and mighty.”
“Wow, Brooke. The truth finally comes out.”
Simone looked at Brooke and me, cutting her conversation short. Then she walked over to us.
“What are you guys arguing about over here?” she asked.
“Nothing of importance,” I said.
Simone kept tugging down on the back of her grey skirt because her thick thighs and ass kept making the back rise.
“Hey, beautiful, come back over here and keep me company,” the guy she’d been talking to said after observing her wardrobe troubles.
Brooke was still sulking.
“Nah, I’m going to keep my friend here company, but my girl Brooke would love to talk to you.”
Brooke’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t want your fucking sloppy seconds. I can find a man on my own.”
The guy tossed up his hands and walked away.
“Ouch. What’s wrong with you?” Simone asked.
“You’re what’s wrong with me. Why can’t you just
stick with your own kind?” Brooke yelled.
“I didn’t know who I dated bothered you—”
“I’m just tired of you acting like you’re white.”
Simone looked taken aback and hurt by Brooke’s comment. “I know I’m not white. How would you like me to act, Brooke? Should I talk loudly and only speak in slang? Should I drink grape soda and eat fried chicken every day? I know you hate me. I figured in time after being around me and getting to know me, you would accept me, but you only see my skin color.”
That said, Simone walked away toward the exit.
“Wait for me,” I said.
We stood in front of the club. Simone wrapped her arms around herself. “People have been telling me I talk and act ‘white’ since I was a little girl. I fucking hate hearing that. What am I supposed to sound like?”
“People are ignorant. Don’t let it bother you,” I said.
“It shouldn’t, but it does. I didn’t want to get involved with that guy tonight because I’m trying to change things about myself. I don’t want to be standoffish to black guys anymore, and I sure as hell don’t want to be a statistic to another white guy with a black-girl fetish.” She shook her head.
“I used to close my eyes and pretend others didn’t see my skin color. I used to act like racial problems didn’t exist, but Brooke’s outburst proved that people only see me as a black girl trying to be white.”
I’d seen Ben frustrated about these same problems, and I felt her pain. I didn’t know what I could say or do to console her.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s not your fault.”
Brooke walked out of the club and met up with us.
“Seriously, you need to apologize to Simone,” I told Brooke.
“Sorry,” she said, staring at the ground.
“Whatever,” Simone said. “I thought I was more than your token black friend. You think I don’t hear the shit you say? Whenever we converse, you talk through me, not to me. It’s like I’m nothing, and I don’t matter. I usually don’t speak up because I don’t want to come across as ‘the angry black girl causing problems,’ but I’m tired of it.”
“Honestly, I’ve been a real bitch lately, and I’ve taken it out on you,” Brooke said. “Let’s just drop it and get over it—”
“It must be nice to be white and have the luxury to tell me to just ‘get over it’ when you don’t walk around in a society where people are always following you in stores and treating you like shit based on the stereotypes regardless of how I conduct myself. You never have to deal with stupid, petty bullshit like white women clutching their purses for dear life when you sit next to them at a public place. Everything you said took me back to feelings of insecurity I had since I was a little kid. If I talk ‘hood,’ I’m a typical hood rat, but if I engage you in civilized conversation and behavior, then I’m acting ‘white.’ What’s up with all the shit you said?”
“I didn’t mean it,” Brooke said. “I was just acting stupid because I’m scared I’ll never get married. When I see all these guys crowded around you, I get jealous. Can we pretend this didn’t happen?”
“I can’t. I forgive you, but I can’t forget that. It’s better this way, because at least, I know where I stand with you.”
We walked back inside the club and tried to patch up our damaged night.
Chapter 21
Gabby
Scab
Everywhere I turned, I saw brothas dating white women. It was eight p.m. on a Friday night, and my single ass was listening to music, searching for potential black men on eHarmony. Although there were lots of men I could be compatible with, most of them wanted fucking white girls. I was having terrible luck with men. They were either ugly as hell, gay, only looking for white women, or I just didn’t feel that connection that I felt with Ben.
Honestly, I compared everyone I dated to him. My love for him was what kept me finding flaws in every guy that showed an interest in me.
Drake’s “Too Good” came on the radio, and I immediately thought about Ben. The lyrics about taking his love for granted were too fitting and reminded me that I’d created this big, life-altering mess that brought him and Becky together.
My relationship with Ben was like a scab that I kept picking at. My actions were what kept it from healing. The conversations I had with him, our inside jokes, our history together—I’d never had that type of connection with anyone else, past or present. Our connection was real and extremely hard to find, which was why I refused to ignore it and let it go. I refused to stop picking at this scab.
When we were kids, I didn’t give him the time of day. I figured he was so sprung on me that he’d always be around, but after our night of intimacy, I realized that pushing him away was a mistake. When Ben took me out on that date to Frames Bowling Lounge, what he didn’t know was that I spotted Ty there with a white girl. I had a great time with Ben, and the sex was good, but my mind and my heart were on Ty. I questioned why he left me for that white girl and wondered what she had that I didn’t.
When I left Ben’s place that night, I did a lot of self-inventory. It finally dawned on me that I’d never find another guy who loved me unconditionally the way Ben did. While my aggressiveness scared most brothas away, Ben was never intimidated by me. I went to his apartment to patch things up and work on a relationship with him, but I was too late. Playing too hard to get made him turn to Becky, and she didn’t deserve him. Seeing Ben with a white girl after spotting Ty with one pissed me the fuck off.
I wasn’t going to lose my best friend—and, in my heart, future husband—to Becky, so I’d been patient. I’d stayed close to him because I needed him in my life. Ben understood me, he listened to me, and, unlike most men, he wanted to do more than just fuck me.
An insult to injury was having to watch Ben and Becky’s relationship blossom in front of my face. Seeing him not jump up to please me whenever I called and showing her so much love and attention made me realize that she had replaced my spot in his heart. Jealousy swirled in the pit of my stomach whenever I saw them acting all lovey-dovey.
I was scrolling through the profiles of my matches on the dating site when I came across Terrence’s profile. I called him.
“Bitch face? Is that you?” he asked.
I assumed my number showed up on his phone. “Shut up, punk. Why do you have a profile on eHarmony?”
“You wouldn’t know that unless you had one too. The question is, why do you have one?”
“I’m keeping an open mind. What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Why? You want some company?”
“Come through.”
The truth was Terrence and I had been fucking recreationally for the past four years. Shit, I needed some dick, and he was an excellent maintenance man. At first, it happened as a mistake. One night I invited Terrence over to get drunk with me at my place after Ben canceled plans with me to be with Becky. Things got hot and heavy, and I blamed the first time on the alcohol. I had no excuse for the hundreds of times afterward.
I enjoyed his company, and he was a great fuck, but Ben still had my heart. Terrence and I promised we wouldn’t tell Ben about our romps because I’d always felt that, in time, he’d drop Becky, and he and I would start something real. Terrence was a good guy—smart, had a swagger to him, and he was handsome, but he didn’t seem like he was ever going to want to settle down, which was why seeing his profile on eHarmony surprised me. What we had was safe and comfortable because we knew where we both stood. He’d never wanted anything more with me, and he knew that when things ended with Ben and Becky, our fling was over.
* * *
My doorbell rang.
I answered the door, wearing only my robe, and Terrence was dressed in a dark blue suit.
“Nice suit, but where’s your tie?”
“I’m too fly to wear a tie. I don’t let nothing tie me down,” he said, laughing at his corniness.
“Oh my God.” I giggled
at his line, but his words reinforced in my mind that this was just for fun, while the feelings I had for Ben were real.
Terrence stepped inside and closed my door. He slid one arm around my back and the other behind my knees, scooped me up in his arms, and placed me on my bed.
He sat beside me, but I pushed him on his back, climbed into his lap, and took over the task of undressing him. Terrence lifted his ass, allowing me to pull off his pants and underwear. His cock sprang out. I wrapped my manicured hands firmly around his cock and took him in my mouth. I worked him until he writhed and cursed. I felt him swelling up, but he stopped me. At that point, he laid me on my stomach, his hands glided up and down my back, and he ate me out from behind, his lips tugging gently on my folds.
We both liked to be in control, and it was a sexy game we played to try to outdo each other. There was very little passion in our sessions. There wasn’t much kissing. Our sessions were rough, borderline impersonal, which made it easy to not catch feelings for him and fantasize that it was Ben fucking me.
Terrence ripped open the wrapper and rolled the condom on his length swiftly. He flipped me on my back, lowered himself between my spread legs, and sank deep inside me with one swift motion. I felt every stroke. He worked his hips, punishing me with his cock, and it was reminiscent of my first time with Ben. I felt my orgasm building inside me. Terrence increased his pace. I came and had to put major focus on screaming out the right name. Terrence pumped up his fist, celebrating the fact that he made me come first. I turned over and kneeled on all fours, arching my ass in the air.
“Oh damn,” Terrence said.
“Give it to me doggie,” I said.
I knew the visual of seeing my huge tits bouncing freely and throwing my ass back as he thrusted made him come quick. Terrence hammered me mercilessly from behind. His hands gripped me tightly. I felt his whole body tense up. He moaned and came inside me.
We high-fived each other as he lay next to me. Then Terrence pulled me into his chest and kissed my forehead. I knew this was just a fuck to him, but the affection felt nice.
Defining Moments Page 17
