AFRICAN AMERICAN ROMANCE: A Thug to Remember (Hood Alpha Male Pregnancy Romance) (African American Urban Contemporary Short Stories) (44 page)

It didn’t take long for Tonya to penetrate the layers of bureaucracy on the first floor of Carl’s building.  She knew being a poor person she couldn’t just storm the place; but if she was a “hired contractor” there to fix his computers, that seemed as good a cover as any other.

It took at least one secretary and one project manager to realize there was no “Kate Johnson” and before they could stop her it was too late.

The two women ran into Carl’s office fearing the worst.  But all they found was just Carl calmly sitting at his desk and smiling, while Tonya shook her head back and forth.

“You can’t be in here!” one said.

“Let her be,” Carl demanded.  “It was your fault she passed security.  But now that you’ve let her in, we might as well hear what she has to say.”

“You bastard,” Tonya said with an angry smile.  “You put five thousand dollars in my account?”

“You wanted American money, correct?”

“Yes but I asked just for what you took.  Not five thousand dollars!”

“What’s the problem?”

“It’s charity,” she said strongly.  “I don’t believe in charity.  I believe in paying my own way.”

“Well you are paying your own way.”

“What?”

“Changing my tire cost you at least five hundred dollars worth of your time, or at least that’s what I would have charged for such an efficient performance.  And taking you out to dinner tonight in Bellevue at the Ritz Diner, well that’s going to easily run you a thousand dollars, especially if you order the best wine in the cellar.  Then the limo ride, then going down to Galveston for a beachside dinner.  You are paying your own way…because I’m thoroughly convinced you’re going to say yes.”

“Say yes to what?!”

“To…well, obviously.  Going out with me.”

All three women made quirky faces and looked around the room, shocked.  Only Tonya stayed behind; the others scurried out of the room, still trying to understand what had just happened.

“You mean…like, you’re asking me out?”

“Well…that would seem to be the consensus.”

“But…you’re…”

“What?  Rich?  Is that not politically correct anymore?”

“I…I don’t even know your first name.”

“Carl.  Now you know.”

“Huh…Carl.  Cool.  I guess I have no problem with it.  But…”

She folded her arms and stared at him.  “We’re going to a nice place around here.  Something for like twenty bucks, with soda pop or tea.  I don’t want to be owing you five thousand dollars.  Deal?”

“Hmmm.  You drive a hard bargain, Tonya.”

“That’s what they tell me,” she said with a smile.

The night was charming.  Not over the top swanky as Carl Gillispy was used to, given the big oil parties his family often hosted, and his last date—a New Yorker, of course—she wanted the works.  But Tonya was a refreshing delight.  She stubbornly insisted on paying her own way.  She even insisted that Carl be a gentleman and take off his Stetson hat when he sat down.  Carl always liked to buck the establishment and remind folks that a billionaire was in the house.  But he found her old fashioned sensibilities charming. 

“How’s your meal?”

“Good,” she said coldly.

“I have to admit, it’s a charming place.  Not what I’m used to.  But good nonetheless.”

“Look, you’re sweet.  All right?”

“Well…that’s something I don’t hear too often.  Not in my line of work.”

“I just don’t think this is going to work.”

“Oh.  Well, just one date.  Not too much damage done.”

“Yeah…look. I gotta go.  I’ll see ya around.  Just…let me leave my share of the bill, okay?”  Tonya frantically searched her purse for two twenties and then dropped them on the table.

“Oh…well…all right.  I guess if that’s what you want.”

Carl watched a panicky Tonya get up from the restaurant, her uncharacteristically blue and formal dress swirling away as she quickly made her exit. 

Something felt strange about it.  Tonya was all smiles the first time they met and this time, under the lights and in a beautiful dress that brought out the wonderful glow of her cocoa skin, it should have been something a little bit closer to magic.  If not a happily ever after sort of thing, then at least a good business dinner, if nothing else.

But this woman wasn’t having it.  She didn’t smile, didn’t tease.  Just fled in what seemed to be…revulsion.  Was she really that colorblind?

Carl finished his meal and waited for desert to come, as usual.  While waiting and looking around the room he noticed a well dressed Black man staring at him.

Carl nodded at him.  Wasn’t right to assume just any Black man had to know who Tonya was.  But there was something peculiar about the way this man was pointing and chuckling.

Carl felt it appropriate to walk over and see what the ruckus was about. 

“Hi there.”

“Wassup, G?  I’m Leon.”

“I uh…”

“I couldn’t help but notice,” Leon said in his funniest mock “formal” voice, “that you were dining in this fine establishment with Tonya Abrams.  Do you know who Tonya is or is she pulling the wool over your eyes too?”

“Well…she said she was a rancher.”

“A rancher!” Leon laughed hard and yukked it up with his two buddies at the table.  “A rancher now.  No, no.  What you have here is the classic case of a chronic liar.  Tonya A is as big a hoe as you will ever meet.”

“Well…why would you say that?  Do you know her…?”

“Hey now, don’t assume that I know her just cuz’ you think we all look alike.”  He laughed again.  “Nah, I’m just teasing you, man.  Seriously though.  I ain’t saying Tonya is a hoe.  She’s not ‘professional’ in any sense of the word.  But I ain’t never seen a gold digger as committed as her dependent ass.  Tell you what, G.  Look her up on RosyBrides.com.  See what you find.  Then…you make your own choices.  K?”

Carl nodded uncomfortably.  Whether or not this guy was fibbing or not, all it was, was just a source.  A tip.  It was up to Carl to find out the truth, if there was any.

Carl looked up the website and searched for her name: nothing.  Then he searched for a few variations; Tawnyee, Tanner, Tonta and Tony.  Only Tonye came up with a search.

“My God.”

It was true.  There was Tonya Abrams’ face—her beautiful, proud face mugging for the camera, a bit more shy and submissive than her hard exterior had appeared to him.  She was offering herself to a “wealthy man preferably overseas who knows how to treat a lady.  Asian and African are OK!”

He was in disbelief, to say the least.  To think that he felt bad about harassing her for being in debt…only to find out she was someone else’s destined mail order bride.  The nerve of the woman.  He had right a mind to call her up…or…

No, no, his deep southern conscience seemed to prick at him.  No good sense in kicking a woman while she was down. 

He couldn’t resist however, doing the one forbidden thing—sending her a message on the mail order bride site and letting her know, there’s no pulling a fast one over Carl Gillipsy’s eyes.

Thank you for a lovely night, Tonye. I regret that things didn’t turn out better than they did.  But I’m glad I got to see the softer side of you.  I hope you find the Asian fellow of your dreams.

-G

To say that Tonya received the message was an understatement.  She actually wrote back some twenty messages, all of them saying pretty much the same thing—“How the fuck did you…” and “Who the fuck gave you…” but Carl didn’t bother reading them past the subject line.

He just figured it was in his nature not to let her get away with any shit.  The man certainly didn’t double his daddy’s fortune by just letting people sucker him.

Tonya tried to call him but there was no good reason to talk things over.  He knew and she knew what went down.  Not that he was resentful.  Poor kid was probably too embarrassed to tell him who she really was.  Yeah, why not put up a strong front and pretend to be some bad ass if it makes people respect you.  That’s some southern logic for you, and worth repeating.

Finally, Tonya tempted fate and came to his office, this time asking permission to enter, but being held back by his two assistants.

“Something going on?” Carl asked through the intercom.  “What’s all that racket about?”

“I’m sorry, Sir.  It’s that same Black woman.  She keeps trying to break in here.  Don’t worry, we’ll get rid of her.”

Carl sighed.  “Christ, Stacy.  She’s just a woman.  And if she’s that determined to talk to me the polite thing to do is let her inside and talk.”

“But…but…”

“Come on now.  We didn’t make our family name great by being rude to prospective customers, now did we?”

Tonya entered the room, fuming, not really at Carl but at life in general.

“Have a seat,” he said, always in awe of this woman who was surely full of surprises.

“Look…I think I figured out who told you.”

“Well, that’s neither here nor there.  I think you did owe me an explanation for storming out of the restaurant when all I’ve done is try to be a good Christian.”

“I know.  And I meant to apologize but dammit…”  She sighed and pouted.  “This is a side of me I just don’t want people to know.”

“What’s there to be ashamed of?  You want to get married like anybody.  No sin against feminism as far as I know.”

“No.  You don’t understand.  I’ve been this way.  For a long time.  I’ve been in debt for so many years.  When my friend told me to apply at this website I just thought it would be a laugh.  But now I’m thousands of dollars in debt.  And I’m getting the feeling that if some cute Asian man were to ask me nicely I’d have no choice but to accept his generosity.”

“You’d move to Asia?”

“Yeah, I guess.  I mean, it’s not that I don’t love the country.  I grew up here.  But my sisters have moved on.  I’m the last one left.  And I can’t make it on my own.  That’s what people don’t understand.  They all say, oh things are going to get better.  People are going to help you up.  But they never do.  Everyone just says I’ll pray for you…but they don’t do shit.  Meanwhile, I’m going to be homeless.  I’m starving.  That’s reality for you.  Not that you know anything about that, Mister Gillipsy. ”

“Well, I can’t lie and pretend that I do.”

He stared in deep thought until Tonya left his gaze and looked down feeling shame. 

But Gillispy frowned.  He had grown fond of the proud woman and didn’t like this side of her at all.  “I was born into wealth.  Doubled my fortune just doing a few dog and pony tricks.  But if there’s one thing I am it’s a man who is grateful for all that he has.  So maybe I could help you out a little bit.”

“You?  Help me?”

“Well, sure.  You could always pay me back the money I give you.  So you could earn it legally.  But in the meantime, there’s no good sense in sending you half way across the world just because you need a second chance.”

“Well…I…I am fond of this land.  I’ve lived here all my life.  What would the agreement be?”

“Well you know the usual.”

“Like what, I’d work for you?”

“Well, sure.  Help out around the house.”

“Like a maid?  Like a slave?” she said, her voice raising.

“Like my wife.  I’d buy your profile, Tonya.”

Tonya’s jaw dropped and she shifted back in her chair, shocked and stuttering—a strange sight for the usually confident woman.

“But…but…you…would buy me?”

“Well you’re already selling yourself to an international husband.  Why not one in your own backyard?”

“You’re single?  I thought for sure you had a wife and a mistress…and a couple of other mistresses.”

“Well nothing serious.  Business, you know, doesn’t really make my schedule easy.”

“But I can’t marry you.”

“Oh?”

“Because then we’d…you know…have to have…”

“Well I’m not so certain on that point, for sure.  But I think it works this way.  I say something sweet and charming.  Then we hug.  Then we kiss.  Then we see what happens under the covers.  I think it works that way.”

Tonya laughed against her will and then squinted her eyes.  “But to be married there has to be some attraction.  That’s all I’m saying.”

“I see.  So you’re saying you’re not attracted to me?  Well, horseshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what?  I’m tired of you.  I’m tired of people like you.”

“Say what?”

“I’ve been nothing but kind to you.  No matter how many stupid rich White man clichés you throw at me.  You complain about not getting help but you spurn people that try to help you.  You try to guilt society into helping you but demand that they only help you according to your own strict rules.  Well fuck that.  I may have been born into wealth and yeah that sucks for you.  But I was smart enough to know when to keep my mouth shut and accept the kindness and hospitality of strangers.”

Tonya eyed him in wonder and shuddered inside.  Indeed, Gillipsy had a temper.  Not the screaming in rage kind of temper but the harsh words—the nightmarish churl of a wealthy man losing all empathy for humanity.