“Hi, honey.” Cautiously his mother asked, “How are you?”
Picking up the eight ball, Darius yelled, “Broke! What have you done?! Why did you withdraw four hundred ninety-five Gs from my accounts? Zeroed out my money market? And closed my C.D.?” Darius squeezed the solid glass black ball so hard his hand ached.
“Wellington says you can have back all the money after you get a job.”
“He’s not my daddy! Why do you keep listening to him? I bet he wouldn’t treat his little precious Wellington the Second that way. Fuck him!” Trading the eight ball for number one, the place Darius used to hold in his mother’s heart, Darius hurled the ball—Smash!—shattering the plasma television.
“Darius, you can have any attitude you damn well please! Like it or not, Wellington is my husband and he’s been a real good stepfather to you! For twenty years he was the only father you knew—”
“And whose fault is that!” Picking up another purple ball, Darius slammed it into the liquor cabinet. “My real daddy ain’t no scrub. He starred in the NBA! Remember? He’s celebrity.”
Carelessly his mother agreed, “You’re right. Then ask Darryl for some money, honey.”
“Forget you!” The remaining balls, all except the eight ball, flew one at a time, breaking stereo speakers, the glass coffee table, and expensive statues. “Be happy with your lying ways and your cheating husband who flies back to Oakland to service his clients. And unless Melanie Thompson is his client, he’s serving her his dick real good. Wellington always wanted my business. Melanie probably convinced him to take it over. He can have my business. He can have Melanie. He can have you. And you can fuck both of them again at the same time if you want!”
Moms was stuck. For a moment she didn’t say anything. When she spoke, Darius heard the disappointment in her voice. Eventually she’d find out somehow.
“Stop your lying! Darius, honey, look. You can have the money back as soon as you get a job. Any job. Stop making me miserable with your lies.”
Darius slammed the cordless on the base and the last ball, the eight ball, into a framed photo of him with his grandmother.
“Fuck!” He’d missed. He meant to destroy the picture of him with his mother, not his grandmother. Forget his mom. Darius didn’t need them. Walking around his house, Darius thought somebody’s daughter was going to have to pay for his devastation and frustrations.
Darius picked up the phone and dialed Fancy.
“Hey, Darius. What’s up?”
She seemed chipper, Darius thought, responding, “On my way to pick you up. You ready?”
“Sure, where to?”
“I can call my limo driver. I’m sure he can be at my place in a few then we can go wherever you want.”
“Sweet. I’ll be waiting.”
Closing his recreation room door, Darius phoned the limousine company and was pleased that his driver would arrive in a half hour. After waiting thirty minutes, Darius grabbed his suede jacket and headed outside. “Whew! Good.” The driver had arrived. Dressed in a black patent leather and suede-like cap, the driver was leaning against the passenger door. Hopefully his fifteen-hundred-dollar charge would clear Darius’s account, but if not, by the time Luxury Limousines discovered he was broke, Darius’s dick would be satisfied and his date would be over.
“Hello, Mr. Jones,” the driver greeted him, gripping the door handle.
Darius didn’t respond. When the door opened, Darius settled into the backseat and poured a glass of Louis XIII. He downed it then refilled his glass, downing shots until he arrived at Fancy’s condo building. Darius retrieved the outgoing numbers from his cellular database and dialed Fancy.
“Hey, we’re downstairs. Don’t keep a brotha waiting.” By the time he arrived at Fancy’s, Darius was so horny he could fuck anything with a pussy, including a cow. Darius wasn’t toasted but he felt good. Aroused. Upbeat. When the driver opened the door, Darius’s bottom jaw hung.
Shaking his head, Darius thought this sistah was incredible. But damn, look at her now. “You look exquisite.”
Darius was feelin’ that short silver satin dress that clung to Fancy’s protruding nipples and flared around her hips, outlining her curvaceous ass. Darius reached for the brown mink coat draping Fancy’s arm then held her hand until she was inside.
“Thanks. I’m so excited tonight. I passed all of my Real Estate Finance quizzes and I take the brokers’ exam in eight months.”
“That’s cool. Maybe I’ll buy a home from you.”
“No doubt,” Fancy said seductively, smiling.
Darius’s hand eased up Fancy’s bare thigh. Fancy grabbed his wrist, applying excruciating pressure to his inside vein with the ball of her thumb, and said, “Please don’t do that.”
Snatching his arm away, concealing his pain, Darius half smiled then replied, “Damn! What’s wrong with you? Your legs are so sexy and soft I had to feel them this time.” Darius massaged his wrist.
“Not without my permission. Please.”
Shaking his arm, Darius asked, “Then may I?”
“Maybe some other time. Tonight I want to enjoy my success and get to know Darius Jones a little more. Like, what’s life like for you? This intuitive woman advised me that I’m going to become a millionaire this year, so I’d like to know from a millionaire does having all that money make you happy? I want to know how you feel about women. About me. About relationships. What’s your middle name?”
Darius reflected upon the homeless woman’s words to him then said, “Damn, can’t we just enjoy the moment?”
Fancy frowned, saying, “Pardon me. I thought we were.”
Darius exhaled. Fancy was fucking up his high and adding to his stress but Darius was with her now. Regardless, he still had to pay the driver so he deserved to feel more than legs.
“Okay, being a millionaire is the only life I’ve lived so I don’t have a comparative basis. I don’t have a middle name. I’m not in a relationship. I think relationships are a waste of time. I—”
“Slow down,” Fancy said, stroking his hand.
Darius rubbed his hand from her fingers past her elbow up to her bicep then touched the side of her breast. Fancy pulled away.
“Oh, so you can touch me but I can’t touch you. What’s up with this sudden attitude? You weren’t acting like this the last time we went out.”
Letting go of Darius’s other hand, Fancy nodded. “You’re right. I respect that. I won’t touch you again without asking. I’ve been through a lot since our last date, and, well, I don’t want to talk about it. But why do you think relationships are a waste of time?”
This trickster was trippin’. Darius would have to bang Fancy’s skull hard against the headboard just for the hell of it, to knock some sense into her. “Because women these days are fake, they’re phony.” Darius scanned Fancy’s makeup, eyebrows, and lips. Damn, her lips sparkled like candy. He continued, “You don’t know if it’s their real hair, lips, ass, eyelashes, alias, or what.” Checking out Fancy’s body, Darius said, “I don’t have time to fan through all the smoke screens of Barbie-doll leeches who feel just because they have big titties, a small waist, nice ass, and track-star legs that if they fuck you you’re obligated to take care of them.”
Smoke made Darius think about saving Ashlee from the fire. How was Ashlee? Had her face healed from the burns? At first Darius had wanted Ashlee pregnant with his child but now, after what that homeless woman said, he didn’t. Darius prayed none of those kids were his. What was he thinking about? That self-proclaimed telepathic psycho didn’t know him. What intuitive woman had Fancy met?
“You’re right, Darius.”
“Huh.” Fancy’s breasts solicited his attention so he responded to them.
“I’m up here. Look at me, Darius. I’ll be honest with you. I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve only dated millionaires or guys who’ve sponsored all of my expenses. Fair exchange is no robbery and if a woman doesn’t know her worth a man sure as hell won’
t. But I’m tired. Tired of pretending to be interested when I’m not. Tired of faking orgasms in bed. Tired of accommodating horny-ass men with phone sex. Whatever, you name it, I’m tired. Right now I’m in a different space.”
Oh, great. Darius had caught a born-again virgin in the midst of her holy transformation. What a joke. Once a trickster, always a trickster.
“I’d like to have another friend to replace my only male friend who recently moved to Georgia. And I’m hoping that person is you. I want to get to know the real Darius. The one that bleeds when he’s cut, cries when he’s sad, and struts when he knows his shit is on point. I love your arrogance, but like me I know you have a vulnerable side. That’s the side I want to know. The child inside of you and the powerful intelligent man that owns and operates Somebody’s Gotta Be On Top Enterprises. I’m not interested in having sex with you. If we grow closer and decide that’s what we want, fine. If not, that’s okay. At least I’ll have you as my friend.”
Fine was right. Fancy smelled edible. What had she said? Her erect nipples distracted Slugger. Darius would convince her to take off those panties later—Fancy was probably wearing a thong or nothing at all—when they got to his place.
“Let’s go to Scott’s in Oakland. Jack London Square,” Darius instructed the driver although they were already in San Francisco. Darius refused to pay top price for filet mignon and caviar if Fancy was serious about not giving up the pussy.
CHAPTER 10
Darius had proven himself Fancy’s greatest challenge. His sexual interest and advances were flattering but Fancy was determined to reveal the best intangible assets Darius had to offer. Dining at Scott’s was nice but clearly, once again, Darius had expectations of fucking and that wasn’t happening. Why couldn’t he appreciate her desire to get to know him better? And if Darius thought rides in plush limousines to a few three and four-star restaurants would convince Fancy to give up the pussy, he was wrong.
Hell, Fancy didn’t eat much food and although she didn’t have a lot of money, she could afford to feed herself. Thirty dollars at Berkeley Bowl bought more than enough fresh fruits and vegetables for three meals a day for an entire week. Berkeley Bowl’s liquid echinacea, One-A-Day Vitamins for Women, eight ounces of aloe vera juice mixed with equal parts of cranberry juice, and CKLS from the Black Muslim Bakery on San Pablo Avenue kept Fancy so healthy she couldn’t remember the last time she was sick.
Strutting into Nellie’s Soul Food for breakfast, Fancy was pleasantly surprised to see her best friend SaVoy Edmonds sitting alone at a table for four near the register. Breakfast was Fancy’s biggest meal of the day. Fancy didn’t understand people who ate a light breakfast, a moderate lunch, and their heaviest meal of the day at dinner, shortly before going to bed knowing all those metabolizing calories were sure to convert into fat cells primarily around their waists.
The restaurant was filled with blue-collar truckers in blue jeans, businessmen, and what seemed to be neighborhood patrons talking loud. As she passed their tables, Fancy smiled, quickly diverting her attention to SaVoy before any of the men garnished the courage to approach her. Nellie’s, located on the corner of Third and Adeline—a few blocks away from Caroline’s house on Seventh Street near Market—was the only place Fancy ate at once a week. The white lace curtains were the fanciest of the restaurant’s bland décor, but the food Fancy selected from the menu was healthy. Especially the collard greens seasoned with smoked turkey. Nellie never used pork and Fancy liked that because she didn’t have to worry about any part of the pig, accidentally or intentionally, ending up on her plate.
SaVoy’s smile radiated across the room brighter than her canary turtleneck sweater. The banana-colored corduroys were nice but, glancing at SaVoy’s feet, those chocolate-colored Timberland boots were seriously clashing and too masculine for her outfit.
“Hey girl, how are you?!” Extending her arms, Fancy embraced SaVoy then continued, “Where’ve you been hiding? You’re looking good.” SaVoy would look better if she’d worn a pair of jazzy calf-high three-inch-heel boots. Men enjoyed admiring a woman who dressed like a lady. With so many females in the East Bay dressing like guys these days, Fancy easily turned heads everywhere she went.
SaVoy’s pale, almost white complexion, firm cheekbones, and long straight hair were attributes from her Caucasian mother, whom SaVoy had only met once about a year ago. Fancy was glad she wasn’t the only one who’d never heard her mother say “I love you.” Although SaVoy never spoke about her mother, SaVoy and Fancy shared the same pain. At least SaVoy had a father who adored her more than any man ever could, including Tyronne.
“You look good yourself. I was going to ask you the same thing. Although you stopped returning my calls, you know I pray for you all the time, Fancy. Girl, you must’ve gotten a job at a clothing store dressed up so early in that micro-mini business suit and thigh-high boots.”
Pinching the edge of her aqua-colored skirt, Fancy smiled. Bright colors any time of the year were magnetic. The vibrancy cheered Fancy, and Fancy’s constant smiles made people around her happy, too.
Pulling out a wooden chair, Fancy replied, “Thanks. You know me. Actually I just stopped in to get a bite to eat before heading to the gym. Never know who I might meet in transit. But I should have a real job by the end of the day.” Grabbing a napkin, Fancy brushed a crumb from the seat then sat facing SaVoy. “I’m claiming a much better life this year. And for starters I’m placing my salesperson’s license with a real estate company today and I’m taking classes for my broker’s license. So when you and Tyronne get ready to purchase your home”—Fancy slid her business card across the table—“buy it from me.”
Holding a small tablet in her hand, the waitress interrupted, “Excuse me but can I get you ladies something to drink?”
Was she preparing to write down a drink order?
Fancy answered, “Yes, and you can take our food orders, too. I’ll have an orange juice and vegetarian omelet, no toast.”
SaVoy said, “And I’ll have an orange juice, French toast, two eggs scrambled, and Canadian bacon, with toast.”
“I’ll get your drinks right away,” the waitress said, walking to the next table still holding the pad in front of her.
Declining to comment on SaVoy’s selection of double toast, Fancy noticed SaVoy had gained a few pounds.
SaVoy looked at the card. Smiled. Then said, “Congratulations. I bet I can have Pastor Tellings let you do a seminar at our church.”
“You are so determined to get me to church, and having my own seminar will work. Let me know when. Unfortunately I have to work for someone else until I learn the business first but I’m definitely opening my own office by the end of the year.” The intuitive woman’s voice echoed in her mind: You need to get closer to God. Fancy wasn’t forcing a spiritual relationship with God or anyone else. “How’s Tyronne?” Fancy asked, not honestly caring.
The sparkles twinkling in SaVoy’s eyes must’ve blinded her common sense because like Fancy once was, Tyronne still was a user.
“Tyronne is truly wonderful. I love him so much. Every day I’m with him is heaven on earth.”
Fancy’s eyebrows reached for her hairline. “Really? Would you die for him?”
Frowning, SaVoy asked, “What kind of question is that?”
“Yes or no?”
Responding defensively, SaVoy said, “I don’t know.”
“Never mind. You don’t have to tell me because I’m taking a break from men. But I had a great date with Darius Jones the other night,” Fancy lied, name-dropping. Now SaVoy’s eyebrows reached for her hairline.
“Fancy, please don’t get involved with Darius. He ruins everyone he comes in contact with. Darius is Satan’s offspring. You’ll end up hurt like his ex-fiancée who, thanks to Darius, has—”
Fancy interjected, “And Tyronne isn’t the devil himself? You don’t know Darius. How dare you tell me how to live my life when you’re engaged to a thug?” Darius had been engaged?
Fancy would question him later.
SaVoy protested, “You don’t know my fiancé. Tyronne is not a thug. He never was. Just because he’s streetwise and up on your game, you don’t like him. And he doesn’t like you either.”
“And why might that be? Because I’m up on his game? Whateva, but you need to give me the same respect I give you. I’m not asking your sanctified opinion about Darius. He’s hot, sexy, and arrogant. I like him. A lot.”
The waitress quietly placed the food in front of them then softly said, “If I can get you ladies anything else, let me know.”
SaVoy squinted at Fancy for a moment. “You’re right. God forgive me. I apologize. But I doubt that it’s Darius you like. It’s his money, and at this point, from what I’ve heard from reliable church members who were close friends with Darius’s grandmother and still friends with his mother, you probably have more money than Darius. I was just trying to be your friend and warn you. You talk to Desmond lately?”
Picking the mushrooms out of her omelet, Fancy decided not to respond to any more of SaVoy’s comments about Darius. “Desmond called yesterday. He’s settled in his dorm. Getting acclimated to law school. But I can tell he misses me. Maybe after he gets his degree, I’ll give him a chance.”
“You are still a trip. Desmond doesn’t want you. Desmond called me yesterday and told me he decided to move in with Trina to save money.”
SaVoy hadn’t changed. She still wanted to be the one who knew every damn thing first. Or at least before Fancy. Maybe SaVoy was right about Desmond living with Trina, but Fancy didn’t care because if she wanted Desmond, she could have him at any time regardless of what woman was in Desmond’s life.
“As long as Desmond is happy I’m happy for him.” Now Fancy was just picking at her food, not eating at all. “The person I need to ask you about is Tanya. How is she?” Fancy questioned if Tanya was ever really her true friend. Tanya was more of a friend by default because she’d met Tanya and SaVoy at the same time while in high school.
Nothing Has Ever Felt Like This Page 11
