by Tiana Laveen
“You can lose the attitude. I haven’t done shit to you, baby, but open your legs and horizons. You should be thanking me.” He blew out some smoke and tapped his hand against the steering wheel to the beat of Kiana Ledé’s ‘Chocolate,’ ft. Ari Lennox. She offered nothing but a stiff upper lip and a cold disposition. The sooner this damn lunch date was over, the better.
Shortly thereafter they arrived at the Blackbird Restaurant on Randolph Street. She bristled in her seat, fighting a smile, but tried to show little emotion. He thrives on reactions. I never told him this is one of my favorite spots. I’m going to pretend I don’t care. It would be difficult, for she absolutely loved the place. In fact, she and her friends enjoyed this place from time to time for lunch or dinner. The food was fantastic, the ambience relaxed but top-notch. She found it rather off-putting that he’d taken her, as if he’d been reading her mind, figuring out her likes and dislikes. First the soap, now this! They exited the car, which was driven away by a valet.
The man rested his hand along her lower back, sending tremors down her spine at his slightest touch. It worried her so. Ushering her inside the restaurant with a gentle nudge, he held the door open as she walked through. She waited as he communicated with the host. As she watched, she was hit by a feeling that agreeing to meet with the monster would turn out to be one of the worst mistakes of her life…
CHAPTER FIVE
An Offer You Can’t Refuse
“Good afternoon.” Nixon’s voice was low, gravelly, sexy, so much so that the mere sound drew people’s attention. “I made a reservation for two. Last name, Rossellini.”
“Ahhh, yes, here you are, Mr. Rossellini. Thanks for dining with us again. Your table will be ready in just a moment.”
Nixon nodded and tapped his fingertips against the host’s podium. They waited in silence, the awkwardness thick and sticky like a glob of slime. She took note of his well-made black briefcase.
He took it out of the car. Maybe he has important work stuff inside. But why bring it with him for lunch? Odd.
Once at their table, they picked up their menus. She hid behind hers as she perused the selections, though she practically knew them by heart.
“I’m going to order the most expensive thing on this menu, you son of a bitch. Twice.” She fought a smirk. He burst out laughing at that, then shrugged as if he didn’t give a damn. “I have a question.”
“Yeah. What is it?” He continued to scan his menu.
“I didn’t call you. I didn’t send for you.”
“Yeah, we’ve established that.”
“You gave me your card at,” she looked around and whispered, “The Cage.’”
“Why are you whispering?” he asked with a tilted grin. “Nobody knows what the hell you’re talking about. It could be Tweety Bird’s fuckin’ cage for all they know. I thought, I thought, I taw a puddy tat!” He cackled. “I did, I did!”
“Lower your voice!” She sucked her teeth. “This isn’t funny!” He leaned back in his seat, a big ass shit-eating grin on his face. “You have to tell me, I’m curious. Why did you decide to contact me after two months, Nixon? And I want the truth.”
“Why did you say, ‘And I want the truth’? What was the fuckin’ point of adding that?”
“Because you are a con-man. A charlatan.”
He sucked his teeth and looked away as if she was boring him to death.
“I’m as real as they come. Look, I have no problem giving you the truth, Yasmine, but the truth is sometimes vile. It can be dirty and rotten. The question you asked doesn’t require anything complex though,” he placed his menu down. “but just know this: you’re in no position to know everything about me. You haven’t earned that privilege yet.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just answer the damn question.”
“I’m going to enjoy breaking you.” He smirked and blew her a kiss, while she averted his gaze for a moment, needing to breathe. “All right. Answer time. Here we go… Why I contacted you… First, I will preface this by saying that this is a meeting. I brought you here to conduct some business, to put everything out on the table. To answer your question, Yasmine, let me set the scene. Every morning, I work out inside of my home.” He plucked his glass of water from the table, took a sip, and set it down. “I have a routine. It gives me time to meditate, to think. I also read quite a bit. Got that from my mother. She always had a bunch of books ‘nd shit lying around. Anyway, after that, I shower. I listen to music… I love music, especially the kind that gives a good vibe, relaxes you, or makes you wanna fuck.” His eyes narrowed on her and she grew hot in an instant. “I smoke a little, all before starting my work day. Back to the reading, though.” He scratched the side of his nose and leaned slightly forward. “I read a daily affirmation each and every morning.” So do I sometimes, but I am not telling him that. “I write them myself, the year prior, then pull them from a big vase I keep in my closet. It gives me insight into how to handle my day, if you will.”
“You write your own affirmations?”
“Yeah. Who better to do it but me?”
“Isn’t that kind of… I don’t know, strange to you?”
“No. Why would it be? I know myself better than anyone else and besides, what I get each day is a surprise. So I write them way in advance, like I said, and pull them randomly. I believe I will get the message I am supposed to have each morning, and things will happen throughout the day to maybe confirm it. Either way, I find it helpful. It takes discipline, too.”
“Why don’t you just pray?”
“Who said I don’t?”
He frowned, as if slightly annoyed by her assumption.
“You don’t strike me as a spiritual person.”
“I’m alive. That makes me spiritual. But this has little to do with spirituality, Yasmine. It’s about practicality and making the most of my time and energy. That includes finding a suitable mate for myself.” Her stomach flipped. “I’m not a time waster. That’s something we can never get back once it’s gone. I’ve wasted two months already, waiting for you to make a move. You seemed interested in more, asked what to do in case you wanted to see me again so I told you. I even went further than that. That was a mistake on my part.” She looked at him quizzically. “I should have never put the ball in your court in the first fucking place. The man should always take the lead.” He toyed with the rim of his water glass, running his long finger around it. He looked deep in thought.
“You have plenty of female attention, I’m sure.”
“Are you every female?” He gave her a dirty look, mean even. “You’re basically saying I can get anyone else I want, so why focus on you – not realizing that those words are an insult to yourself. You must think you’re like everyone else, or all women who may have similar physical attributes as you would be my only requirement. I’m picky as fuck, even for just sex, and I find it kinda sickening that you would sell yourself so fuckin’ short.” The room seemed to grow instantly colder. “I demand the best of the best. I just hope you don’t disappoint me.”
He’s a mind fucker. He’s trying to confuse me. Therefore, she remained quiet, refusing to add fuel to the situation. This was no ordinary man. He was a fucking piranha.
“Back to what I was saying though… the whole ‘Why you?’ question you’ve laid on the table. Since the moment I met you, I knew I liked you. More than for just a fuck buddy.”
“Why? I am going to keep asking ‘why’ until I’m satisfied.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I really don’t care how many times you ask, Yasmine. Questions don’t intimidate me.”
“What intimidates you?”
“You never reaching your full potential. Because then, that would make me a failure. And when it comes to pussy and potential, I take each quite seriously.” She ignored the tightening in her chest at his words and focused on his eyes that grew impossibly darker. “Anyway, I see great aptitude in you. You make me want to go deeper with you. I know why you’re acting this
way. Defensive… irritated. That’s why I can handle your behavior. It makes sense. It’s logical. I wouldn’t expect you to behave in any other way than you are right now. You’re an intelligent, beautiful, successful woman who did something out of the ordinary one night, and it scares you how good it made you feel. A part of you wants to forget it. Another part of you doesn’t. The real issue though is that you want something you can depend on, something reliable you can hold in your hands.”
“I never told you what I wanted. Why do you—”
“I don’t mind questions. Questions are essential. But this isn’t a fuckin’ court case. I am not on the witness stand so can you be quiet for like, I don’t know,” he dramatically threw up his hands, “five fuckin’ seconds without interrupting me? Then ask everything you want when I am finished. I can’t even get the fuckin’ answer out, explain what you wanted to know, because you keep hopping in like this is jump rope.”
His expression of irritation irked her.
I don’t like this motherfucker! I don’t like him one bit!
She bit her tongue and crossed her arms in anger.
“I am trying to explain to you, Yasmine, that I do comprehend where you’re coming from because I’d have to be brain dead to not understand it. You don’t see me that way because of how we met. I frighten you.” She shook her head and looked down at the floor. “I do. And that’s okay.” His voice was so calm now. Eerily so. “Regardless, if you can overcome that, and I believe you can with the right motivation, I am determined to try this dating shit again. I hate dating. I’d sworn off it.” He flopped back in his chair. “Okay. Now, do you have any questions?”
You bastard.
“You are a real piece of work, you know that?! Why would I want to date someone so disrespectful? How we met aside?”
“I just say what’s on my mind. You want to date a liar or someone who tells it like it is?” His shoulder drooped a bit as he crossed his arms. “A lot of people wouldn’t have the nerve to say what I just did. But they’re thinking it. Sometimes I go too far I guess.” He shrugged again.
“Ya think?!”
“If I embarrassed you in some way by asking you to pipe down so I could present my case and answer your questions, then I guess I’m sorry. I told you from the get-go that you talk too much. Listening is just as important as speaking. You go overboard when you’re nervous.”
He is right. Again.
“You’re too much. Anyway, why had you sworn off dating?”
“It’s fake.”
“Dating is a way to get to know a person.”
“Yeah, so how is that effective when nobody tells the truth? They’re putting their best foot forward, putting on airs, tryna show off and be someone they are not just to get some pussy, some dick, some food, some rent money, a car, commitment, whatever. It’s a bunch of malarkey. Cockamamie bullshit.”
“You sound so negative! How can someone who reads inspirational quotes, self-written notwithstanding, say something like that?”
“Because it’s true. Let me give you an example. No one says when they first meet someone, ‘Hey, you son of a bitch, I know you find me attractive, but you should know I’m insecure as fuck. I chose you because even though I’m outta your league, you’ve got a strange blinkin’ problem that makes people uncomfortable and that makes you insecure, too so I can exploit that to my advantage. Oh, and uh, I snort coke every now and again, too. I’m sexually aroused by flatulence and I also hate my deadbeat father who lost our house due to gambling debts when I was a kid – so now anyone Black or is named Jack, I hate on sight. I lost my last job working at this one hospital for infectious diseases because I was caught watchin’ porn on the computer then punched my boss in the nose when she confronted me about it. Now I have a criminal record due to assault and battery. I’m a fuckin’ prize. Let’s go out again!’” She stifled a laugh, refusing to let the bastard know she was heavily amused. “When have you seen a dating profile like that, huh? A truthful one? Down to the final, nitty gritty detail.”
“Like that? Never.”
“Right, Yasmine, because that’s the truth, and no one likes the truth. It would save a lot of sorting and vetting time, too. People always say, ‘Tell me the truth! Tell me the truth! Most really don’t want it though. It makes them feel bad, it makes them uncomfortable. Many people can’t handle the truth, and that’s bullshit. Traditional dating in our American culture is bullshit because it’s built on lies. Boy meets girl, they fall in love, get married, fuck, have kids, live happily ever after. Fuck all of that. What about all that shit in between? Don’t give me just the bread; I want the whole sandwich. That’s not real life. That’s not how this shit works.”
He makes a decent point…
“I want to see the dirt, Yasmine. The grime and grit of a woman I am trying to tame and claim. I want to see and feel the draining slobber pooling out of her mouth as she chokes on my dick and my mind.” She sat straighter in her seat, convinced the man was insane by how he was able to seamlessly turn a discussion from serious, to comical, to sexual in a nano-second. “…The mental vomit of the purge. The disgusting beauty of completing and compelling someone to not put their best foot forward, but walk in their truth. To truly be in love, you have to know about their filth… the underbelly of their thoughts. I need to see her crawl and grovel before she walks up to me…” She swallowed, hating how turned on she felt as he said the horrid words and bore into her soul with those haunting eyes. “I want to feel the tears of desire and agony falling on my chest as I give indescribable pleasure to you, as you ride me, honey, in every which way possible… Yeah, that’s sweet surrender. That’s truth. A suicide of your false bravado, the crumbling of the shell you once were. I know you want that too. Sex, real sex, is never just about sex, Yasmine. Do you agree with that?”
“I don’t know. On first thought, I imagine it is an individual experience, not something that can be lumped together. I’d need a moment to mull that over.”
“We don’t need to focus on the whole world to come to a reasonable answer to that conclusion; just us. Everything I did to you that night was about so much more than fucking. True connection is hard to find. Do you agree with that at least?”
She stared at him for a moment.
“Yes.”
“That’s why you responded so well to me, and I to you. It’s a vibe. A linking of the souls. That’s why you felt the connection from the moment we got behind closed doors. And then you did what cautious women do when they come across an exceptional man like me. Run. You had time to study what happened that night and twist it and overthink it. That’s the woman in you, and the lawyer, too. All of that shit aside, the way you make love is authentic. What we experienced at The Cage was real. Regardless of what you wanna think of me, what we shared was undeniable. Your body talks to mine to this day. Right now, your panties are probably wet, just like my dick is hard as I sit here looking at your beautiful ass which, unlike your mouth, never speaks too much. It says just enough. We can’t hear any of this stuff with our ears. It’s on an entirely different plane. We speak the same language and our mouths never open…”
She struggled with herself at that moment, wishing to leave, fighting to stay. His words were like lightning striking and short-circuiting her train of thought. A part of her was simply too curious to up and walk away.
“Your tongue is silver. You’re slick.” The man laughed, then reached into his pocket and removed a chrome lighter, twirling it about in his hand. “It’s forked, like a snake.”
“Will you be my Eve and fall from grace?” His eyes narrowed upon her.
“Nixon, you probably have some fetish for Black women on top of it all. I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“I do.” Her mouth dropped at his words. “What?” he said with attitude. “I told you ten damn minutes ago that I have no reason to lie to you about any of this. I accept who I am. You’re on a need to know basis, but when you need to know, you get the truth from me
. Period. I love having sex with all races of women, Yasmine. I don’t discriminate. Women around the globe are gorgeous! The best thing God ever made. I’m attracted to you all, but yeah, I love fucking Black, Indian, and Latina women a hell of a lot. It has nothing to do with behavior; it is an aesthetic. You all like to call it ‘melanin,’ and curves but if you were White or Asian and we had this same connection, I’d still go for it. You being Black is a bonus is all.” He shrugged. “People like what the hell they like and if you want to call it a fetish, fine, but some nice hips, rounded like an old country road, dark hair, long legs and smooth brown skin gets me every time and I’m not going to apologize for it.”
“You are the most untrustworthy person in this room.” He cracked up laughing at that. “You know why? Because you sound so damn believable. Convincing.”
“All good lawyers do.” He winked at her; his head cocked to the side.
“You told me I talk too fucking much when I get nervous. Do you honestly believe that?”
He placed the lighter down on the table, and took another sip of his water. “You do. You find my honesty insulting. You’re still upset about that, especially since I’ve said it twice. That means I am not the first person to tell ya such a thing. I’ve triggered an old tape in your head. Pushed ‘Play.’”
Where the hell is the waiter?! It’s crowded in here, but that is no excuse.
“What are you, a wannabe psychologist?”
“Nope. I just know people. I read them well. That’s part of the reason I am in such high demand as an attorney, and why I fuck so well, too. Relax. Talking too much doesn’t make you unsexy. It can just be annoying as hell.” He sighed. “Nobody is perfect. Anyway,” She shook her head and labored with her private thoughts, suppressing an inner desire to slap him. “I have decided to pursue you.”
“You can’t pursue someone who doesn’t want you.”
“Yeah, that’s true. But let me give you a little advice. Don’t be bitter. Be better, baby.”
