Page 11 of Captivated By Danger

“Boy, if—”

“Pop, chill.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything disrespectful. I was just going to say if I found a young woman that looked like her.”

“Uh-huh.”

The doors to the elevator opened after I pushed the button. Stepping on the elevator, I swiped my card to take us to the top floor. My dad and I were getting ready to go over his taxes. Just like most of my clients, he’d waited until the last minute to want to go over everything. When I wasn’t being the chief financial officer for DHQ I was an accountant for my family and also many other rich folks that used me to get the most tax write-offs that they could get. A plus was that I was great with numbers and hardly ever made mistakes in that category. My dad touted my two degrees from MIT like they were a badge of honor. It was a big deal, but not really. It’s not like I had to work that hard, numbers came to me in my sleep. My degrees were a piece of cake.

I kicked my shoes off after walking in my office. While I got set up, my dad took a phone call.

“Danger,” he answered.

He listened for a few moments before chuckling. “You know I can make that happen, but if I make that happen, what are you going to do for me?”

Listening to my dad still trying to mack at his age made me shake my head. The women ate that shit up. Though my dad introduced me to that life, our reasons were completely different. He loved to control women because he could, no other reason. For me, I loved to see women come out of their shells. It’s why I normally went for the timid women. The women who were unsure of who they were in that moment or even in life. It felt good to instill confidence in them since I couldn’t give them a relationship. Most women came to me broken and left fulfilled. My mother said both me and my father had God complexes. Now, I wouldn’t say that’s what it was, but I wouldn’t say it wasn’t that either. The stats didn’t lie. And by stats, I mean, every now and then I come across women that I used to deal with, and they looked happier, brighter. Some even had husbands and children. The women who weren’t prideful, they’d even thanked me for changing their lives. See. Stats don’t lie.

My dad was caked up on the phone for at least twenty minutes before he ended the call. He sat back in the seat, staring at the ceiling.

“So, what’s it looking like?”

I looked at him and then back at the papers spread across my desk. “I’m looking at a few of your business expenses and what is this business expense in Grand Turk?”

“Well, you know…” He shrugged his shoulders. “It was Kandi’s birthday and that’s where she wanted to go.”

Kandi was the same girl that he’d been messing with for at least twenty years. At this point, everybody knew about her, including my mother. She was an open secret; everyone knew, but never talked about it. Kandi was a kept woman and if I was her, I wouldn’t work either. My dad was lucky because she never wanted to be a mother. She was fine with her rich, sexy aunt and godmother titles. However, she was still young enough to change her mind if she wanted.

“Aight, I guess. I can move a few things around and make it look like it was a business trip for real.”

He shrugged. “If it helps, I actually did take a few phone meetings while I was over there.”

I shook my head before scribbling a few notes to myself next to the charge. My relationship with my dad was still the same as it was; I was his right-hand man and favorite son. Several years ago, after his sex scandal, a lot of his friends couldn’t fool with him public because the block was hot. After everything blew over, they tried to come back, but he left everyone who didn’t stand by him on the do not disturb list. That’s when we grew closer. We were always close but being close to your dad as a man was different than being close to your dad as a boy.

“What’s your plans for the weekend? You want to go grab some cigars?”

“Cuba don’t really sound too bad. As of this morning, my schedule is clear.”

“Of course, if it’s okay with your mother. I’m in the doghouse.”

“Again? What did you do between the three days ago I last saw you and today?”

“Fucking off. You know me. Missed my curfew.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I told her that I was at your house, and she threw me deeper into the doghouse. ‘That means nothing to me’,you know how your mother is.”

“I already know.”

My mother didn’t trust me or my dad. She had every right not to because she knew I covered for my dad most of the time. Fuck. All the time. Financially and physically, I covered for him. I still paid shit for him, and his female companions and he repaid me. My mother figured that shit out when I was about twenty-one years old, and I’d been doing it for years by then. She told me that I was despicable, and she couldn’t believe me. Her feelings were hurt, and I felt a little bad. What little relationship we had left, diminished after I told her she could have left anytime she got ready. He kept cheating because she put up with it. I told her; I’d rather help preserve her feelings than flat out tell her just for her to stay anyways. Because of that, our relationship wasn’t the greatest, but it wasn’t the worst either. She told me that I wouldn’t understand until I was married or really loved someone who didn’t love me back. That would never happen because there wasn’t a woman who I would love that wouldn’t love me back, nor was marriage in the cards for me.

Did I want a lifelong partner? Sure, but if that lifelong partner didn’t understand my lifestyle, then they simply wouldn’t be a part of my life. That was another major difference between me and my dad’s life. I didn’t care about being alone or having for sure pussy. I preferred coming home to peace and quiet, especially after a long day of work. I never felt the need to have to answer to someone. That wasn’t the calling on my life. My partner would have to understand that there wouldn’t be a marriage, maybe one child, and I’d do what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it with no questions asked. My only promise would be that I wouldn’t embarrass them, nor would I have a ‘Kandi’ in my life. I got bored fast, so I’d keep a woman around for at least a month, maybe even two.

My vibrating phone got my attention.

I answered and put it on speaker. “Dymon. What’s up?”

“Not shit. Ready to get back to my wife and daughter. You wanna ride?”

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