Authors: Cas Sigers
Chocolate Dove (3 page)
Chapter 2
The following morning at nine, Basra was buzzed upstairs to the penthouse suite of 155 Riverside Drive. She was immediately greeted by Hollis Perrigo, owner of Choice.
“Basra, my love. How are you doing this Thursday morning?” Hollis greeted Basra with a tight embrace. “A glass of wine?” she offered.
Basra shook her head with confusion. “It's early for wine, right?”
“Jesus served wine at every meal, and if it's good enough for His people, it's good enough for you,” Hollis said with a giggle. “Have a seat and tell me how the date went.”
Basra walked over the plush white leather couches and sat. She looked out of the ceiling-to-floor windows and gazed at the smog whisking across the Hudson. She daydreamed about the thousands of cubicle sitters who worked eight to ten-hour days just to bring home a fraction of what she'd made last night. Was she wrong to complain?
“My date went well,” she mentioned.
“Lawson is a pussycat. He's been with us for a while, has a thing for brown skin. God bless him with his pale self.”
Basra burst into loud laughter.
“I know I have no right to talk about him. I'm as pale as snow myself but at least I get a good tan once a year. Those red-headed Aussies repel sun rays.”
Basra continued to laugh at Hollis, who often said just what was on her mind whether it was appropriate or not.
“You know we don't have many ladies of color; in fact, there are only two: you and Jasmin. She's American. So you are going to be one hot commodity as the only African. Many of my clients will pay top dollar to have an African princess.”
“You're not telling them I'm a princess, are you?”
“I'm in the business of selling fantasies.”
“Yeah, but what if they look it up? There are real princesses in my country and I am not one of them. I don't think lying is good.”
“You could be an indentured servant, they wouldn't care. In their minds you are a queen, and who doesn't want to make love to a queen?”
“Yeah, about that part. I'm not going to be able to have sex with these men.”
Hollis paused and peered straight into the eyes of Basra. Her eyes held such a serious look of disdain that Basra quickly feared for her life. She didn't know Hollis that well, but had heard from Lucia that she had the temper of a scorned Greek goddess. Basra looked away for fear she was being cursed.
“I mean no disrespect to you or your company, I just don't feel comfortable sleeping with these strangers for money.”
“But you feel comfortable enough to take their money, correct?”
Basra's mouth moved but no words formed. She was speechless, but Hollis filled in the blanks.
“If you want these men to pay thousands of dollars for your time and conversation, you must have one hell of a vocabulary. The audacity ...”
“Really, I thought that I could but I can't.”
“There are no rules saying you must do this or that. I'm not your pimp and I'm not making you open your legs for any of these men. However, there is an unspoken code. Our clients spend millions to have a good time, and that good time includes whatever they request.”
“Maybe there are men who would pay less just for my company?”
“You overestimate your beauty.”
Basra lowered her head.
“So, hold up. Did you have sex with Lawson last night?” asked Hollis.
“No, ma'am, I couldn't.”
“Dammit! Lucia said you weren't going to be a problem. If you cost me a good client, you will not get a penny of your money.”
Hollis walked into the kitchen and snatched her cell from the counter. She rushed over to her desk, pulled up her contacts, and dialed Lawson's number. She got no answer.
“I'm holding your check until I speak with him.”
“I'm sorry,” apologized Basra.
“I have a few clients who are into bondage, S&M, things of that nature. But, normally, they require you to do things far more out of sorts than sex. I just don't understand how you think your company alone warrants that type of money. Sex should at least be on the menu.”
“It's just not an option for me.”
“Then guess what, pretty eyes, I'm afraid you're not an option for me.” Hollis rose and motioned Basra toward the door. “We'll talk after I speak to Lawson.”
Basra took the cold ride back down twenty-seven floors and exited the building.
Normally, she loved to stroll along on the Upper West Side and glide in and out of the shops, but Hollis had taken the wind from her sail. She had plans for that $4,000 and the thought of not receiving it was making her ill. Thus, with her head hanging low, Basra left the building, turned right down Eighty-eighth Street, and walked aimlessly until she reached Broadway. She continued down Broadway until she came upon Columbus Circle. She paused and glanced at the Time Warner building, where she'd met Lawson.
“Why couldn't I just sleep with him?” she murmured. “I at least thought I'd get my money.”
Frustrated, Basra kept walking down Broadway with no destination in mind. She crossed over to Seventh Avenue and, before she realized it, she was passing through the Garment District. Though she had several errands to run, Basra continued down Seventh until she reached Twenty-third Street, took a left, and walked two blocks down to Twenty-first Street, where she and Lucia lived.
Standing right outside of the Echelon, Basra looked behind her and took a long sigh and whispered, “I can't believe I walked from Riverside to Chelsea.” She shook her head and went inside the luxury apartment building.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Sadiq,” said the concierge.
Basra smiled politely and waved as she continued toward the elevator. Once in her place, she removed her shoes, walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a cup of yogurt. She strolled onto the terrace and sat down. From her view on the tenth floor, she could see a small corner of the Fashion Institute, the school her younger sister, Amina, desperately wanted to attend. Though the morning had been unpleasant, Basra began to smile thinking about her baby sister who started putting on fashion shows for the family at the age of ten. She would find anything that she could cut and stitch and turn into a work of art. Amina had dreamed of becoming a designer for as long as she could remember and Basra was determined to turn that notion into a reality. Right now, it was important for Amina to simply go to school, but she desperately wanted to help with her dream. As the oldest, she felt it was her responsibility. This is why she began modeling in the first place.
Growing up, she despised her long, lanky figured that was often the cause of ridicule and neighborhood fights, but as she became a teenager, she realized it would be her ticket to freedom. Therefore, she studied models and read every article on modeling that she could find. She had a friend back home help her with a portfolio. He wasn't much of a professional photographer, but he was handy with a camera. Basra's family had a few friends from home already living in New York, and they helped finance her first visits to Manhattan. Basra was very fortunate; it only took two visits and five interviews to procure an agent and get steady work. Her first year was very consistent with catalogue ads and some high-end fashion magazines, but though she made decent money modeling, New York was more costly than she'd assumed. She knew going to school and modeling wouldn't allow her to save enough for Amina. Just when she was considering taking an extra job, Lucia mentioned Choice. At first, she thought it was crazy that someone would pay that kind of money for a date, but after Lucia showed her a bank statement, and told her about Choice's clientele, she figured one or two dates couldn't hurt. It wasn't ideal but definitely an option. Basra's plan was to work at Choice for a few months and save enough to bring Amina to the States and pay for her degree at FIT. Basra knew all along she had no intention of sleeping with the dates but didn't say anything. She figured she could stall the men and the agency long enough to get a few thousand saved and then quit. But Basra had no idea of the underworld territory she'd crossed into.
She gazed back toward the corner of Seventh Avenue, and then reminisced about her family back home until Lucia walked up and interrupted her daydream.
“What's up, chica? I see you survived.”
“Ha ha,” Basra replied while slowly turning to acknowledge Lucia's presence.
“I was hoping to be here last night when you got back. How was âAwesome' Lawson?”
“He's an interesting man,” Basra replied.
With anxious eyes, Lucia took a seat beside Basra to get more details. “So, tell me how it went.”
“I didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're asking. But we went to dinner, had a few drinks, and went back to his place.”
“His place? You went to his place? What did you do?”
“Nothing. We talked.”
Lucia leaned back in her seat and took a long look at Basra.
“Stop looking at me. We didn't have sex. I promise.”
“Was he mad?”
“He wasn't happy,” Basra said with a very jaded expression. Lucia was silent. Basra turned her focus back toward the skyline and continued to talk. “I went to see Hollis and she's holding my money until she speaks with him.”
“You what?” Lucia yelled. “You shouldn't have gone to see her without me. I swear you better not mess things up.” Lucia hastened off the terrace while whipping out her cell phone.
Basra followed while quickly spilling out an explanation. “She knows you have nothing to do with my decision not to have sex.”
Lucia held up her hand to silence Basra when Hollis answered the cell phone line. “Hi, Hollis, this Lucia. Let me first apologize for Basra's behavior.”
“You shouldn't be apologizing for me!” Basra chimed in.
Lucia quickly walked into her bedroom and shut the door in Basra's face. Basra propped her back against the door and waited. Less than a minute later, Lucia opened her bedroom door, nearly causing Basra to fall on the floor.
“She wants to speak with you,” Lucia said while handing Basra the phone.
Basra took the phone and walked back onto the terrace. Lucia followed with anxiety.
Hollis had a peculiar excitement in her voice when she began and Basra didn't know how to anticipate the pending conversation. “So, I spoke with Lawson,” she started. The five-second pause before the next sentence seemed to last five minutes. The rhythms of Basra's heartbeat grew. “He absolutely adores you. Said you were his innocent, doe-eyed angel. He loved the fact that you made him chase you, and said it felt like a real date. So you can have your money. However, I'm very leery about sending you back out. Other clients will not have this same reaction. I need some time to think about this. I'll be in touch.”
“Okay,” Basra simply replied and then hung up.
Lucia was aflutter as she stood over Basra with intense eyes. Basra looked at her but kept quiet for longer than Lucia could stand.
“What did she say!”
“I can have my money. Lawson loved me.”
Lucia stood in disbelief as Basra exhaled and released a small snicker. Lucia began her nervous sidestep shuffle that she often did when she was perplexed about a situation. It was a peculiar idiosyncrasy that resembled the beginning of a Broadway dance move.
“How did she sound, excited or crabbed?”
“She sounded normal like she always talks, very business, straightforward.”
“Well ...”
“Well, what? Aren't you happy?” asked Basra.
Lucia gave a slight shoulder shrug, and walked back into the condo. Basra could see the obvious traces of jealousy and she refused to let it ride. She knew this was a victory and demanded that Lucia admit it.
“Think about it,” she yelled, walking into the living room, closely following Lucia. “This could set a new precedent. She said he liked the chase, and wants to go out again.”
Lucia walked to the freezer and removed an ice cream sandwich. She said nothing as Basra went on her anti-sexual tirade.
“If more women held out then I can see there being an entire group of escorts like me. There will be those who do and those who don't. And the ones who don't have sex can be calledâ”
“Broke,” Lucia finally interrupted by placing her frozen treat close in front of Basra's face. “You are delusional. This is a very old profession and there are rules whether you like them or not. You want to play like you're innocent, but you're no better than the rest of us.”
Lucia took a large bite of her ice cream, stared into Basra's eyes for a few seconds, then marched around her and went into the bedroom, where she remained for the rest of the afternoon.
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