Page 53 of Simply Complicated
“Ocean introduced you as Savior’s girlfriend,” Bailey continues, “unless he was wrong with that assumption?”
How did a question asking her if she had fun become an interrogation? This night is becoming increasingly worse by the hour. I’m about to drag the soul out of her anorexic body. “You’re biracial, but you look light enough where no one will mistake you for being half-black unless you tell them. So, since you like to pass as white, I’ll treat you as such.” I clear my throat. “It must be tiring to be white. You spend every day hating, thinking of ways to hate, being mediocre, aging like an avocado, while pretending to live a great life and not care. You’re the first to turn Black Girls Rock to All Girls Rock. I bet you made racist jokes so your white sorority sisters didn’t have to. You were probably taught all of your life that if you acted in a certain way, you’ll get the man you wanted, even if you have to deny who you really are.
“So, when you see someone who has no care in the world, you get angry because your insecurities come out. You can’t understand how my baldheaded and thick ass came with the grand prize of them all and you’re curious about it. Not curious as in you’re genuinely happy but curious as in, you want to see what I did so you can swoop right in and get him.
“To answer your question if I’m dating Savior, here’s an unforgettable answer for you,” I walk up to Bailey and smile. “It’s none of your goddamn business.”
Bailey’s mouth curves into a frown and her eyes are hot with fire. She knows if she says or does anything, not only will she be kicked out of the gala but also out of the expensive ho job she calls escorting. “Thank you.” She then leaves the bathroom.
I stare at the door and wonder what the hell that was about but I shrug it off. I touch up my lipstick and make my way out of the bathroom. As I approach the ballroom again, I see Bailey and the hashtag twins talking amongst themselves.
Now it all makes sense. The women are from the same escort agency and they’re all working together to get in with the family. It explains Soul’s attitude from earlier and how he doesn’t take women seriously unless he’s doing business with them.
Why did I think I was so naïve?
I walk back to the table and sit down, feeling dejected. I can’t believe I was even a little excited about this gala until realizing how competitive and fake other women are. Even the sista who had a little bit of melanin within her thought I was her competition. So much for POC solidarity, huh?
I thought getting out of the ‘hood meant I would be around better quality people but I honestly think the people I’m around now are worst. If someone is fake in Inglewood, they get dealt with pretty quickly on the streets. If someone is fake here, it’s too obvious they want something from you.
I don’t know why I even entertained the idea I wanted something better. Maybe Andrea is right; I am a hood bitch, I was born a hood bitch, and I’ll always be a hood bitch. Maybe Jalen was right, Savior is only with me to get his rocks off until he rides into the sunset with Becky.
I’m just here to keep his dick wet until he proves otherwise.
“You don’t seem impressed to be here.”
I turn to Savior and gasp at his face. Savior Thomas Ellison is just a breathtakingly beautiful man with the deepest brown eyes I’d ever seen. His voice was calm and impassive, but that sultry look returned to his eyes.
My heart is delighted to see him, and my body is so attuned to his. He’s like a drug I refuse to go to rehab for and that’s so incredibly bad. He’s my heroin, my cocaine, my mushrooms, and I want more.
My brain, however, realizes how bad Savior is for me and wants me to quit cold turkey. It already seems like a dangerous love affair with no good ending in sight. Still, as angry I am with him, I just can’t quit him quite yet.
“It’s been an interesting night to say the least.” I don’t even bother to hide my scowl.
Savior leans closer to me and I get another inhale of his delicious cologne. My heart was pounding out of my chest and my mouth felt cottony. He buries his nose into my neck and softly kisses it, causing a hum of pleasure underneath my skin. “How can I make this better?”
The warmth of Savior’s touch instantly made this night better. He was on his p’s and q’s for most of the night and barely held my hand. Now he’s kissing my neck – touching one of my spots – in public. If that’s not him claiming me, I don’t know what is.
“Gorgeous,” his lips curve against my earlobe, “I asked you a question. How can I make this better?”
Oh, I know a few ways he could make it better but I don’t believe I can say any of what I’m thinking. “I don’t know.” I breathe.
Savior suddenly pulls away and my body mourns the loss. He stands up and motions me to stand with him. He holds the small of my back as he leads me to the dance floor. A few heads begin to turn and I already feel the weight of the room upon my shoulders. This will not end well.
“This music is so unbelievably wack,” Savior motions over to the DJ, who quickly puts on another record.
I was expecting another WASPy tune like Coldplay, HAIM, or even Lana Del Rey. She’s safe enough, right? The music here has been a snooze fest but it’s supposed to be. Rich, white people and their fat pockets are paying to come here to listen to Cardi B.
I hear that familiar whispery voice of Total. Savior actually requested…LL Cool J?
“Loungin’” fills up the ballroom and I’m stuck on the dance floor with Savior. Considering the guest list, it’s not an appropriate venue to start twerking and freak dancing. Not sure what the protocol is here.
Did he just set me up?
“Follow my lead,” he whispers and he holds the small of my back. We walk along the rhythm of the song and I feel every set of eyes on us. Ooh, these white people ain’t gon’ like this…
Savior surprises me by doing ballroom dancing-like moves against a hip-hop beat. As the thumping bass line plays overhead, Savior twirls and spins me in perfect rhythm of the song. His hands roam all over my body, yet he was never disrespectful. We dance alongside each other, against each other, and it’s never obscene.
It’s poetry.
